Page 37 of Let Her Hide

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

The fluorescent lights flickered overhead as he rifled through the patient files.

"Ah, here we are," he whispered, pulling a file from the stack. His fingers traced the edges of the worn manila folder, tingling with anticipation as they brushed over the name on the corner. "Laurie West." A shiver coursed down his spine, a jolt of perverse excitement that left him breathless for a moment.

He opened the file, studying the intimate details of Laurie's life laid bare before him: her age, her address, her deepest fears, all scribbled down in clinical shorthand by her therapist. The corners of his lips twitched upwards as he scanned the notes, envisioning how he would toy with her emotions, break her spirit, make her beg for mercy. It was a game he'd played countless times before – and one he knew well.

But then, his eyes fell on something unexpected, something that made his heart lurch violently in his chest. There, in the midst of the therapist's observations, scrawled in ink that had faded with time, was a name that brought back a torrent of long-buried memories: Rebecca Sinclair.

"Rebecca..." he murmured, his voice barely audible even to himself. That was the same name as his sister. The girl he'd thought he'd lost forever when he was abandoned so many years ago. The girl who had become little more than a hazy memory, a figment of his imagination, a story he told himself to keep the emptiness at bay.

It was likely not her. Just a coincidence, he was sure. But out of curiosity, he couldn't resist opening the file.

His hands shook as he read on, the words seeming to blur together on the page. According to the therapist's notes, Rebecca had lost a brother in the past. He was accidentally left behind during a road trip and never seen again. Her parents suspected he was kidnapped.

The familiarity of the story made him feel sick. This story mirrored his own, except he believed his parents had abandoned him. That was what his foster mother had told him. He remembered going to the police... but then again... maybe he hadn't found the police alone.

Had Greta, his foster mother, taken him there?

Had she kidnapped him?

"Impossible," he whispered, his voice breaking with suppressed emotion. "It can't be true." His eyes darted back and forth across the page, searching for some sign that this was all a lie, some cruel joke played on him by fate. But deep down, a small, desperate part of him clung to the hope that it might be real, that his sister was still alive, that he wasn't truly alone in the world.

As the truth of the revelation settled over him like a shroud, he clenched his fists, crumpling the edges of the file in his grip. The room seemed to close in around him, the darkness pressing tighter, suffocating him with its oppressive weight. He stared down at the name on the file – Rebecca Sinclair – feeling as though the very foundations of his twisted existence had been ripped out from beneath him.

"Rebecca," he whispered again, his voice trembling with a mixture of anger, grief, and something else entirely – something that made his blood run cold in his veins.

The dimly lit file room seemed to constrict around him, the shadows creeping up the walls like tendrils of darkness. He stood there, clutching the worn manila folder, its contents threatening to unravel everything he had believed about himself. It was as if his life was a carefully spun web of lies, and now, one by one, the threads were snapping.

"Rebecca," he said once more, his voice barely audible, choked by a whirlwind of emotions that threatened to consume him. "My sister."

He shook his head, refusing to accept the truth laid bare in the therapist's notes. His mind raced with questions, each more terrifying than the last. What had happened to his real family? Where were they now? And most importantly, why had they never come for him?

The silence of the file room was suddenly shattered by the sound of footsteps echoing down the hallway outside. Panic seized him, and he knew that he had to act quickly. With trembling hands, he stuffed the file into his Rogeret pocket. As he slipped out of the room, he could feel the weight of the folder pressing against his chest, a constant reminder of the secret it held.

"Hey, are you alright?" The voice belonged to Carol, one of the nurses on duty. Her eyes narrowed with concern as she studied his pale, sweat-slicked face.

"Fine," he mumbled, avoiding her gaze. "Just... just tired."

"Alright, well, take care of yourself, okay?" Carol urged, her voice laced with worry. "You've been working so hard lately."

"Thanks," he replied, forcing a smile. It felt unnatural, strained, like a mask that no longer fit quite right. But it was enough to satisfy Carol, and she continued down the hall with a nod. He watched her go, his heart racing with fear and adrenaline. His mind was still reeling from the revelation of his past, but he knew he couldn't let anyone else know the truth. Especially not now, when he was so close.

He couldn't stop thinking about Rebecca as he made his way back to his office. It was like a dam had broken inside him, releasing a flood of memories and emotions that he'd kept locked away for so long. He sat down at his desk, feeling numb, overwhelmed by the weight of the truth he'd just learned.

He thought about his life, about the choices he'd made, the people he'd hurt. He'd always felt like something was missing like there was a hole inside him that he couldn't fill. And now he knew why. He'd been searching for his sister, for the family that had abandoned him, without even realizing it.

He pulled the file out of his pocket, staring at it as if it held all the answers he'd been looking for. Rebecca... she'd been here all along, and yet she'd never found him. Did she ever even look?

Anger clawed to the surface like dark smoke.

Rebecca...

He clenched his teeth.

She was just like the rest of them. No--she was worse.

She had lost a brother, just like he had, yet she hadn't gone looking for him. She hadn't tried to find him, to rescue him from a life of abandonment and loneliness. No, she had just moved on with her own life, leaving him to rot in the foster care system.

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