Page 13 of Daughter of a Monster

Dominic turns to his side, resting his head on his hand. “I’m going to miss you.”

“I’m going to miss you too.”

It’s almost true. He’s as close to a friend as I’ve got. Thanks to my reputation, I never made friends at school and as soon as I was old enough, I left. I moved from job to job, scraping by, attending audition after audition until I finally found a company that accepted me. I thought I’d managed to hide. Obviously, I was wrong.

In the few moments of silence that pass, his eyes flick over my apartment and come to rest on the pile of unopened letters on my table. Panic rises. I want to get up and move them out of sight but that would only bring more attention.

They taunt me.

What do they say?

What excuses would he give?

Would he give any at all?

Dominic stares at the letters for a good long while. I’m certain he’s going to ask about them, ask if they’re fromhim, then his hands slap to his thighs and he gets to his feet. I watch, trepidation tingling through me as he walks the few steps over to the table and picks them up. He flicks through the envelopes as though looking to see if any of them are for him.

My heart beats wildly but I don’t stop him. I can’t. For some reason I’m frozen, stuck to my place on the sofa.

“Who are all these from?” he asks, his eyes only moving to mine briefly before resting back on the envelopes. “And who is Everly?”

“Me. I’m Everly.” The words almost get stuck in my throat, but I manage to force them out. “Everly Jane Berkley.”

“But it says Everly Jane Atterton.”

“That’s his name, not mine. Berkley was my mother’s maiden name.”

Dominic picks one of the envelopes from the pile and places the rest back on the table. He sits beside me, turning the envelope over in his hands. “Why haven’t you opened them?”

I watch the envelope turning. “Because I don’t care what they say.”

“If you didn’t care, you’d throw them out.” He smirks at me and then tears open the envelope before I can rip it out of his hands. I lunge at him, but he jumps off the sofa, holding the letter out of my reach.

“Dominic don’t!” I shout, jumping, trying to rip it out of his hand but it’s pointless. Dominic is too tall and can easily hold it out of my reach. I flop back to the sofa, pretending I don’t care.

“To my dearest Everly,” Dominic reads. “Nawh. Isn’t that sweet?”

I glare at him and fold my arms, inwardly trying to calm the swells of nausea and panic crashing over me. The thought of my father brings back muddled memories of the day everything changed. The fire. The gunshot. The feeling of utter helplessness.

Dominic starts pacing the floor. He deepens his voice, affecting an accent my father doesn’t have. “I have no idea if you’re reading this, or even if you’re receiving my letters. It’s been years now and I’m yet to get a reply. You owe me one. I am your father, even if you choose not to accept it.”

Tears start to well. I want to push them away, but I’m afraid the action will attract Dominic’s attention and I don’t want him to know how deeply I’m affected by it. I don’t want anyone to know. If they know, they will use it against me. They always do.

“Blah, blah, blah, life in prison is hard.” Dominic laughs. “What did he expect? Croutons and caviar?” Then he looks at me. “Are you crying? Oh my god, you’re crying.” He sits down. “I’m sorry, Berkley, I just…” He doesn’t say any more but continues to read the letter in silence. When he’s done he holds it out. “I think you should read it.”

I shake my head. “No.”

He throws the scrap of paper into my lap. “I think you should read it.”

“No,” I say again, this time more forcefully. Pushing away the tears slipping down my cheeks, I get to my feet, letting the letter fall to the ground. “What good would it do reading them? Would it make him any less of a monster? No. Would it change everything to magically make me unrelated to him? No.”

“But aren’t you curious about what he has to say? If he offers a sort of explanation for his behavior?”

“What explanation could he possibly give? There are none that would make things better. He can’t give those women back all the years he stole from them.”

Dominic sighs and rubs his hands over his closely shaved head. “I would read them if I were you. You should be grateful he wants to have a relationship with you. Mine barely acknowledges I exist.”

“Well, you’re not me.” I cross my arms, almost in disbelief of the words he’s saying. I just want him to leave now. I don’t know why I invited him over in the first place. I thought I was lonely. I was wrong.

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