Page 14 of Daughter of a Monster

“Nope, I’m not.” He sighs again. “So you really didn’t know? You didn’t even suspect?

“Don’t you think I would have done something if I had?”

Dominic shrugs. “He’s your father. I wouldn’t blame you if you felt the need to defend him, or at least turn a blind eye to what was going on.”

“I had no idea. None,” I reply forcefully.

“So you didn’t see any of the women? Even hear a name?”

“No.”

Dominic glances over at me apologetically and then alters his demeanor, clapping his hands to his thighs and getting to his feet. “Okay, let’s change the subject. I’ve got to go for dinner at my uncle’s place tomorrow night. My father’s not going to be there, but he and my uncle have this thing going where they have to one-up each other on everything. It’s like a …”

I tune out, Dominic’s voice becoming nothing more than a monotonous sound in the back of my head. My eyes are fixed on the pile of letters. I’ve gone back and forth, internally debating whether I should open them or not. I feel as though if I open them, I am in some way saying I forgive him, or at the very least, somehow owe him something. I don’t want him to think either of those things but there’s also a part of me that’s curious. This man’s blood runs through my veins.

Dominic comes to stand in front of me, hands planted on his hips. “So, your soon-to-be boss is a bit of a dream, isn’t he?” He says it loudly, emphasizing the fact that I’ve been tuning him out for the last few minutes. “What I wouldn’t give to kneel at that Priest’s feet, right?”

I laugh, pulling myself back to concentrate on Dominic. “You’re disgusting.” It’s hypocritical considering the flashes that run through my brain almost daily. But, of course, he doesn’t know that.

Dominic wiggles his brows. “Come on, now, don’t pretend you didn’t notice. There was something so…” He struggles to find the right word. “Something underlying, something under the surface that made him all mysterious and rugged. Don’t you think so?”

“He was just a man in a suit.”

“Liar.” Dominic’s eyes dance with mirth. “I saw the way you looked at him. You were hungry, admit it.” He nudges me. “Hoping to offer your prayers to the Priest?”

“You can stop it now.”

“Not until you admit it.” He flutters his eyelashes and holds his hands under his chin like he’s praying. “Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned.” He blinks innocently at my scowl and then bursts into laughter.

Bending over, he scoops the letter back off the floor. “But seriously, maybe you should read the letters. Or maybe you should go see him. Get closure and all that. I’ll come with you, if you want.”

“I just want to be as far away from him and everyone who can connect me to him as possible.”

“Hence the job.”

“Hence the job,” I repeat.

“I still think you should go see him. Sometimes confronting your demons is the only way to truly get rid of them.”

chapter six

BERKLEY

I’m not sure what compels me to catch three different busses to get to the prison. Maybe it’s because I finally feel strong enough to confront him. Maybe it’s because I want to start my new life by saying goodbye to my old one. Maybe it’s because what Dominic said got to me.

I’m on the last bus now, wearing a baseball cap and oversized sunglasses. I’m sunk down in the chair, scared that someone will know who I am. But no one seems to care. They’re looking at devices or staring aimlessly out the window.

All my belongings fit into the small suitcase at my feet. Someone had delivered my contract to my apartment and all the paperwork had been signed. Even the confidentiality agreement which I thought was strange. I’m not allowed to talk about the position, or any member of the household to anyone outside the household. I guess Mr Priest values his privacy.

My father’s letters are gripped in my hand. Some of the ink has worn into my skin. I still haven’t opened any. I feel like if I do, it will be giving him control. If he wants to say something to me, he can say it to my face.

The brakes of the bus screech as we pull to a stop. I avoided looking out the windows as we drove through the gates but now there is no delaying it. The walls are concrete. The fences made of wire and barbs seem to go up to the heavens. What windows there are in the squat building are covered in metal bars. Seagulls fly overhead even though we are a distance from the ocean.

The officer lifts an eyebrow in surprise when I give the name of the prisoner I’m here to visit, but she doesn’t say anything, merely makes me sign my name. I’m not allowed to take my bag with me, but the officer assures me it will be safe in their office.

I freeze when I enter the visitation room, the familiar knot of anxiety beginning to twist in my gut.

Hands fist in my hair, pulling, tugging.

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