I wash my hands clean. Then go to the bathroom and lock the door.
I leave the light off. I don’t want to risk catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror in this moment.
Kneeling before the toilet, I lift the seat.
Fingers poised by my lips, I push back, and make all the hurt go away.
Chapter Two
Mia
I’m back at Oliver’s house to finish packing. My last day here. After today, I will never again have to come to this house.
The knowledge is like clean air in my lungs.
All that’s left to empty is his office.
I left this room until last because I despise this room.
Oliver always beat me in his office, as though he thought that if he kept it to one room, he could leave this room and lock the door on it when he was done.
That’s never been the case for me, but being in here does bring things back full throttle.
Bad memories start to scream out in the silence.
I sit down on the floor and get my iPhone out. Setting the music to play, I place it up on Oliver’s desk.
He loved this desk. It belonged to his grandfather.
I should burn it. Just like I should have burned Oliver’s body. Cremated him to dust. Make sure he was gone for good.
Unfortunately for me, Oliver had it set in his will that he was to be buried.
He’d already purchased a plot. I also discovered he had bought one for me too.
The plot next to his.
I’d rather burn in Hell than spend an eternity trapped beside him. I’ve served my time. I’m done.
Reaching for the last flat pack box, I stretch too far, and my ribs ache. I’m sporting a nice black bruise on them courtesy of Forbes outburst last night.
I check my bag for Advil and remember that I took the last of them first thing this morning.
Knowing everything is packed, I start to search through Oliver’s drawers in the hope there may be something in here.
I tug on the bottom drawer, but it’s locked.
I search the other drawers for a key but find nothing.
Then a thought crosses my mind. Oliver’s keys, the ones I was given with his things at the hospital, have a few keys on it that I hadn’t found a use for.
I retrieve the keys from my bag, and start trying the three keys. The second one fits, so I turn it, and the lock opens with a click. I pull the draw open, and there’s nothing in it, but a manila folder. I take the folder from the drawer and sit down in the chair, placing the folder on the desk.
In the top right hand corner, it has one word – Anna.
Seeing my mother’s name on it has me opening the folder.
There are two pieces of paper inside. Both are titled: ‘Sawyer, Davis and Smith. Family Lawyers.’ Dated: October 12th 1990.
I was born 1990. January 10th is my birthday.
The first letter is addressed to Oliver. I start to read.
No.
This … this can’t be right.
Blood starts to pound in my ears.
With trembling fingers, I turn to the second piece of paper and read quickly through the lawyer jargon. I’m getting the basics of what this letter is about.
It’s not a letter. It’s a contract.
I, Anna Monroe, do decree to cease all parental rights of my daughter, Mia Monroe, giving sole custody to her father, Dr. Oliver Monroe.
I don’t read anymore. I don’t need to.
My mother didn’t die in a car accident. She signed me over to Oliver.
She left me with him. She gave me to him.
Everything starts to fracture around me.
My eyes blur, and my heart starts to hurt in chest.
The letters flutter from my hands, dropping to the desk. I grab the folder, searching it, scrambling to find anything else.
I find one scrap piece of paper at the bottom.
It has my mother’s name on it, and an address for a place called Durango in Colorado.
Grabbing the papers and address, I shove them in my bag.
I need to get out of here. I need to talk to someone.
So I head to the only person I have in this world – Forbes.
***
When I reach his house, I don’t bother knocking as I know it’ll be unlocked. There’s always someone here.
The urge to talk to him about what I’ve discovered has increased on the drive over here. I just need to air this out. Figure it out. He’ll be able to help me do that. Yes, Forbes is an asshole, but he’s smart. He’s almost a lawyer.
He’ll know what these papers mean.
He’ll know what to do.
As I walk through the foyer, I see the living room is deserted.
If he’s not in, I’ll just wait in his room until he gets home.
I run up the stairs to the first floor. Forbes’ room is at the far end of the hall. I walk quickly, clutching my bag to my side. The papers inside feel as if they’re burning through the leather and onto my skin.
Reaching Forbes’ door, I grab the handle and push down, opening it.