Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75047 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75047 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 375(@200wpm)___ 300(@250wpm)___ 250(@300wpm)
“We’ve been through this a thousand times, Bray.” I recalled the days when I first started my small business. Back then, I was terrified that I’d never get it off the ground, but after busting my ass for the past three years, it was doing better than I ever imagined—which was why I’d arranged this meeting with a local group in the same line of business. “I know it’s a little scary to think about branching out, but this could take us to another playing field.”
“But we’re doing great where we are.”
“I know, but we could do better,” I insisted. “You’re going to have to trust me on this, Bray.”
“Okay.” He inhaled a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “You promise to be careful?”
“Yes, I promise.”
“And you’ll call me the second you’re done with the meeting.”
“You know I will.”
“How much longer before you have to leave?”
“Not long at all.” I glanced over at the standard hotel alarm clock sitting on the nightstand and said, “I better get going.”
“Okay, good luck.”
“Thanks. Hopefully, I won’t need it.”
I hung up the phone, then rushed over to the mirror and quickly gave myself one last check. I figured it was best to dress casually, so I wore a pair of my favorite black jeans and a flowing white sweater with my ankle boots. My hair was pulled up in a fishtail braid, and I was sporting my favorite bangle bracelets. This was one of my favorite outfits—one that I’d worn many times before, but as I stood there looking in the mirror, I didn’t even recognize myself. I certainly wasn’t the same girl I used to be—no longer trusting and naïve. That part of me was stolen the night I discovered my father wasn’t the man I thought he was.
After my mother died, my father could see that I needed him more than ever, so not long after my fourteenth birthday, he started renovating our basement into an office. The remodel was quite extensive, but I didn’t ask questions, just happy he’d be home more, so I left it alone. I kept quiet even as I became curious about all the time he spent locked away in his office and the late-night phone calls.
At first, I figured it was his way of coping with the guilt he felt over Mom’s death, but then he started renovating the basement again and also bought a white van that he never drove—at least not with me, which I found strange and wondered why he’d purchased it in the first place. Soon after, the late-night outings began. I still didn’t ask questions since he seemed happy with whatever he was doing, so I just left things alone.
It wasn’t until years later that I discovered my loving, doting father had a secret—one that would change everything.
I’d gotten up in the night to get myself a glass of water when I heard strange sounds coming from the basement. Curiosity got the best of me, so I crept down the stairs to see what was going on. There was no sign of him, and everything looked exactly like it always had. I assumed it was my imagination and started back upstairs, but something just didn’t feel right.
I stood there for a moment, trying to figure out what was different about my father’s office, and after several seconds, I finally realized it was his bookcase. It was no longer flush to the wall, and a strange light shone from beneath it. I inched closer to get a better look and was surprised to find a secret passage hidden behind it.
The hairs on the back of my neck prickled against my skin as I gave it a slight push, making just enough room for me to slip through. I noticed a second door that had a key-coded lock pad, but on this particular night, it was open. An uneasy feeling fell over me as I silently padded down the concrete hallway and had only taken a few steps when I heard men’s voices coming from inside one of the mysterious rooms. I inched closer and closer until I could see inside the room.
Complete horror consumed me when I saw my father, along with two other men, piling bloody dead bodies in the middle of the floor. He was barking orders about cleaning out the van as he and another man lifted one of the bodies and shoved it into a flaming incinerator—an incinerator that was in our house, under our roof, and I never had a clue it was there. The whole thing seemed so surreal—like being stuck in a terrible nightmare.
I was in complete shock as I crept down the hall and back upstairs to my room, then spent the remainder of the night silently crying in bed while unsuccessfully trying to make sense of what I’d seen. I’d always thought my father hung the moon and never dreamed he could do something so horrific. It killed me to think he had this dark side that I never knew about, one that he’d hidden from me for years.