Deceitfully Damaged

by Abigail Cole

  At a loss, I pick up the laptop and look underneath but I don’t know what I was expecting. The password isn’t likely to be taped there for any of the guests staying, with a passion for Frances Hodgson Burnett’s novels, to find. Close to giving up, I check the laptop over again before placing it down and pressing a button to release the disk drive. To my surprise, the automatic tray slides out to reveal a white disk with letters and numbers written directly onto it with a marker.

  BH/404/31KM

  Figuring it can’t be that simple but trying anyway, I type the code into the password box and tap the enter key. My attempts reduce to one and I curse myself. Staring at the combination, something starts to jar in my mind. I was forced to do a home project in my last year of high school Geography, which I hated since all I wanted was to spend my time on the lacrosse pitch instead. But some of those useless facts have stuck with me over the years; one in particular being that 31km is the distance between Brookhaven’s furthest points. Factoring in that BH is extremely close to the city’s name and 404 is my area code, I start to type the city’s name. Hovering a finger over the enter key, I close my eyes and press down.

  No way. The screen unlocks through my cracked eyelid and my heart jolts in excitement. A generic blue background appears with a small spinning circle by the mouse’s arrow signalling something is happening. Windows begin to pop up before me until ten in total cover the screen, each starting in black before changing one by one to a monotone image. Confusion bleeds into dread as my eyes land on the image of my mom sleeping on the sofa downstairs, the slight rise and fall of the blanket barely visible. The time in the corner of each window tells me these images are a live feed from cameras I hadn’t even noticed were present. Each of the six bedrooms, the kitchen, living room, outside the front door and back porch are visible and I have a sudden panic as to who else can access this footage.

  Clicking the X’s to close all windows except the one featuring my mom, so I can keep an eye on when she wakes, I run my finger over the mousepad to click on the settings. Selecting internet, any traces of hope I felt scurry away as no available connections are found. Hanging my head, I allow myself a moment of self-pity before deciding my original plan (convince mom we should leave or run home) is my best and only option. Refusing to pass up an opportunity to hear Avery’s voice, I lift the landline receiver to my ear as mom starts to sit up on the sofa. Stretching her arms above her head, she swings her legs onto the floor and looks around. Slamming the phone back down, I close the window and power off the laptop before leaping from the chair. Hitting the red button on the wall with my fist, the locks are released and I slip outside, pushing my back against the wall to close it just as mom rounds the corner.

  “There you are. I must have dozed off. How about we make dinner and then play some Scrabble?” She asks smiling sweetly, her eyes still slightly glazed with sleep.

  “Sure,” I reply, returning her smile and leading her out of the room, thankful I can keep the panic room a secret for a tiny while longer.

  ∞∞∞

  Tossing onto my other side, I throw the cover off my sweaty body and fist my hands in frustration. Every time I close my eyes, I think about some pervert leering over a screen watching me sleep. I tried all evening to sneakily spot the hidden cameras but I can’t find a trace of them without making it too obvious I know exactly where they are. My only saving grace is that the bathroom is apparently off limits, but I can’t hide in there any longer without seeming suspicious. Rising from the bed, I walk over to the huge window covering most of my slanted ceiling. Opening the latch and pushing the glass outwards, the cool night’s air surrounds me as I gaze out to the sea stretching across the horizon. A perfect luminescent circle is reflected in the still water, a mirror image of the moon directly above. I haven’t given this place credit for its beauty or serenity; it’s difficult to see what’s right in front of me when I’m more focused on what’s missing.

  A noise similar to a harsh ‘shh’ filters up to me, making my eyebrows crease as I lean over the window frame to look below. I can’t see anything out of place but I’m sure I hear a deep murmur that has me darting back into my room. Pushing my feet into Ugg-style slippers and throwing a baggy hoodie over my head, I creep from my room and down the stairs as quickly and quietly as I can. Every room I pass is dark, the last step of the bottom staircase groaning beneath my foot and causing me to freeze. After nothing happens, I continue through the living room and into the kitchen.

  “She’s asking so many questions,” my mom’s voice beyond the back door has me ducking and shuffling across the open space until my back meets the cupboard doors. Her shadow moves against the closed blind, as the moon helps to make out two figures.

  “I understand but she needs to stay here.” A deep voice replies. My heart is thumping around my rib cage like a balloon that’s been released before it has been tied. I think I know that voice, but I can’t place it. A strange sense of déjà vu washes over me, a memory I’d long forgotten playing out before my eyes. That deep rumbling voice, mom’s hushed whispers, light seeping beneath my closed bedroom door as I pull my unicorn duvet over my face and push myself into a mountain of stuffed teddies.

  “How long do you intend to keep us hidden?” Mom’s impatient voice pulls me back to the present, the realisation she too is a prisoner here unnerving me. Slowly rising to my feet, I square my shoulders and brace myself. I’m getting answers, tonight.

  “Don’t take that tone with me, Elena-“ I whip the door open, a shriek of surprise leaves mom as she clutches her chest with wide eyes. A tall shadowed figure turns to me, grey visible at his temples. Pushing his hands into his slacks, he shifts so the moon’s rays fall over his face to reveal icy blue eyes that soften as they land on me.

  “Nixon?”

  Wyatt

  Tapping my foot on an expensive Persian rug, I hold back the sigh that’s lingering on my tongue. Ray promised me the truth tonight, but so far I’ve had to sit here and watch him puff on a cigar for longer than my patience can handle. Every so often he coughs excessively, banging his fist in the centre of his chest but still refuses to put the cancer stick down. Being stuck in this darkened room without any ventilation, the smell is making me feel nauseous and lightheaded at the same time.

  Other than a sideboard on my left, the desk separating us and our two chairs, there’s nothing else in the office as far as I can see. I’m beginning to wonder if Ray’s fondness of the dark is due to a medical issue or if he’s embarrassed he hasn’t decorated recently. Finally, he stubs out the short remainder of his cigar and focuses on me. I lean in at the same time Ray does, thinking he’s about to bring some clarity to my confusing life, when he reaches a shaky hand for the glass decanter on his desk.

  Watching him attempt to lift the heavy container is painful, so I stand on a huff and ease it from his fingers. After pouring the amber liquid into an empty glass beside the ashtray, I hand it to him and resume my seat. Ray smiles at me in the lamp’s glow, lifting the glass to his aged lips and downing the liquid. After planting the glass down, he gives a stiff nod just in time, since I was about to scream for him to get the fuck on with it.

  Pulling open a drawer on his side of the desk, Ray pulls out a brown envelope and flicks open the lip. Carefully sliding out an aged piece of paper, he pushes it across the wooden surface towards me slowly. I lean forward, squinting in the light to read the tiny writing. It’s the birth report from my birth date. After reading the hospital’s heading, I glance up with a cocked eyebrow for him to explain.

  “Twenty years ago, this month, Catherine Hughes gave birth to twins.” Sighing deeply, I wave my hand in the air, feeling deflated his ‘big news’ was something I already knew. Pushing the paper back towards him, I slump back into my chair. So much for getting answers.

  “I already know Avery is my twin,” I manage to say evenly, despite the vomit that rising in my throat at those words. Ray chuckles deeply, causing me to frown in suspicion. I woul
d think he had a screw loose if it weren’t the perfect clarity in his eyes.

  “Read the report.” is all he says. Reaching for it back and scanning the document, I flick my eyes from the hospital name to the date and down to the description typed beneath. My gaze snags on the short paragraph, ice filling my heart.

  Dear Mr and Mrs Nixon Hughes,

  We would like to congratulate and thank you for choosing to use Piedmont’s maternity centre. On 19th July 2001, a set of healthy female twins were delivered naturally at 4:11pm and 4:36pm. Baby A weighed 6lb 5oz and Baby B weighed 6lb 1oz at time of birth. Neither new-born required specialist treatment and have successfully breastfed within hours of birth. On this basis, we are pleased to discharge you today. From the entire team here, we hope you leave with the knowledge we all hold you in our prayers and wish your girls the best fortunes in life.

  Your Sincerely,

  Dr Fawcett.

  “I don’t understand,” I trail off, although I understand perfectly. Dread has taken a hold of my body, keeping me tightly rooted in place. The paper starts to crinkle in my clenched fist so Ray leans forward with surprising speed to snatch the page from my grip.

  “Avery was never the adopted one in your household, son. You were.” After forcing the creases from the paper, he slides it back into the envelope and returns it to the safe hiding spot within his drawer.

  “But, why?” is all I can think, slowly forcing myself back into the leather armchair. It doesn’t make any sense. To adopt their real child after pretending I was legitimately theirs. Unless I was such a disappointment, they couldn’t bear being stuck with me any longer. I wasn’t good enough.

  “A long time ago,” Ray recaptures my attention with his low tone, “Nixon Hughes murdered my daughter in cold blood. She was the light of my life. And the sole heir to my legacy. So, I made Nixon a promise. That the day he was gifted a daughter, I would return the favor. Apparently, that fateful day arrived with not only one, but two daughters I could use to exact my revenge. It seems he thought he could outsmart me, hiding the girls they bore and taking in a boy instead. For years I wallowed in my grief, consumed with the fact I’d never get vengeance. Until they brought her back.”

  My mind is starting to spin, the light in the room becoming fuzzy. Images of my childhood start to play through my mind, searching for clues to support Ray’s allegation. But my fath- Nixon was the doting dad when he was around. Even if my birth right was a lie, that doesn’t sound like the father I grew up with.

  “Why not come for me? Did it really matter what gender their child was?” I ask, wondering if that’s the real reason I’m here. But surely, it that was true, I’d be dead by now - not feeling bloated and pampered.

  “There’s a certain bond between a father and his daughter. Although I’m sure he adored you to the best of his blackened soul, can you honestly say he doesn’t love Avery more?” My nostrils flare as anger rises. He’s right. She was instantly welcomed into our house, showered with compassion. Even though I received anything I desired, it was only with material objects. She got mom’s sole affection. Father’s undivided attention. And now it makes sense since she was actually theirs and I was the fraud.

  “So, who’s the other twin?” I seethe, needing to know which other girl in the world deserves my home more than me.

  “That’s where you come in. We can’t locate the other one.” Reaching into his pocket, Ray pulls out the latest iPhone. The wrinkles on his face are illuminated by the bright screen as he taps the device with his index finger. After holding it to his ear and requesting to ‘send her in’, we sit in silence while I wait for someone to enter.

  I mentally run through as much of my childhood as I can remember, trying to find another girl my parents showed any interest in but there’s no one. Maybe they only took Avery back after they discovered the abuse she was suffering, but if the other one is living a perfectly happy life – she could be anywhere in the world.

  The door opens behind me, but I don’t turn to see who is entering. Focusing on the mix of emotions battling with each other, mainly rage and a hint of self-worthlessness, a dark figure rounds the room to stand across from me on Ray’s left.

  Glancing up, my eyebrows crease. “You?” I breathe in surprise. Her mousey brown hair looks almost black in the darkened room, covering her shoulders. Her Prada knee-length coat is tied tightly at her waist with a fabric belt, cinching her waist. She takes Ray’s hand in a comforting squeeze before releasing it, regaining her full yet short height to face me.

  “Hello, Wyatt.” Detective Vincent says blandly, almost seeming bored. I start to splutter out a range of questions all at once, but she holds up her palm to silence me. “I understand your confusion. I didn’t lie when I said I promised to find Sydney’s killer – but I’ve also been working as a double agent for Mr Perelli for many years. The FBI are, in fact, hunting for solid proof that Nixon was in Chicago at the time of her murder, but our cause goes beyond that. My connections are particularly useful in allowing Perelli’s men to enter and exit the Hughes’ property without being seen to find the information we desperately need. I realize this is a lot to take in, but time is of the essence. With Cathy’s death, Nixon is the only one with the information we need now. We have been unable to locate him for months.”

  “You shot Huxley?!” is the first thing that springs to mind, quickly followed by my curiosity around my mom’s car crash. Although killing her would seem counterproductive to their whole scheme that’s been 20 years in the making.

  “Well, not me personally.” She mumbles. “But yes, I helped stage the intrusion. The break-ins were merely distractions so I could obtain warrants to search for evidence for Nixon’s location and the ‘Hidden Hughes’, as we’ve been calling her.” The detective rests her hand on Ray’s shoulder as my eyes trail down to where her shiny badge would be sitting on her hip beneath the coat.

  “I’m afraid casualties come with the territory. That particular…member of my family is fairly new and not fully trained in our ways yet. Don’t fret, he has been properly punished for the headache that incident has caused us and will be more prepared next time.” I feel my eyebrows pull together. ‘That incident’ came within two inches of killing one of my brethren and I can’t help to feel the guilt that blooms in my chest from his words. None of this really has anything to do with me, yet I followed my father’s instructions to stay in Atlanta. I dragged my boys into this, put them in harm’s way.

  “If I’m joining your family, I need you to promise me my boys will be kept out of all of this. None of them get hurt or are used as a pawn to gain what you want.” Ray’s head bobs slowly in the lamp’s glow and I trust he is a man of his word. I mean, he’s been nothing but completely honest about everything this far and I have a feeling family means everything to him. Sighing, I lean forward to rest my elbows on my thighs. “Tell me what you need me to do.”

  “I will need you to return to your former life for a short while, find information on the missing twin, and then bring Nixon and Avery to me. After that, you’ll be welcomed back with open arms and have a place with us for the rest of your days.” The plan sounds simple enough, despite the discomfort I will feel at being back in Avery’s presence.

  She is no relation to me after all, which in one way is a huge relief but, in another sense, it’s my own personal form of torture. I practically have a green light to act on my instincts to throw her against a wall and kiss her the way I’ve been yearning to do. To sink my dick nine-inches deep as she finally accepts all of me in the way I’ve craved. But now more than ever, I can’t have that.

  She was supposed to have the life I led. It wasn’t enough she took the love of the only parents I had ever known, she had to taunt me with her perfectly blue eyes and golden hair. Her faint freckles and plump lips. Gloating in my face this entire time that she was meant to take my place. And now she’s going to pay for it. Her and her stupid twin will learn what it means to steal from me, and I will relis
h every second of it.

  “What do you need my father for? Surely Avery is your target?” I seethe. The old man’s lips turn up in a smile although there’s no humour in his gaze. Just pure rage that mirrors the fury I’m feeling within.

  “Because Nixon will be chained down to watch me slit Avery’s throat, of course. That small slither of revenge is all I’m still clinging onto my feeble life for.”

  Avery

  Lying on my stomach across my bed, my legs swing to and fro as I mindlessly scroll through Facebook. Everyone is posting photos of their perfect summer break, from European holidays to picnics in parks with their friends. All of my ‘friends’ on the app are mostly people I’ve met through Meg, either from her team, sorority, or some of their many house parties. An image pops up of Angelica, the girl’s lacrosse captain, surrounded by children in adorable sports kits in the mini lacrosse camp she runs each summer. Meg usually volunteers to help out, my heart tightening as I realise I’m not the only one missing her.

  Refreshing my emails for the millionth time and checking through the junk folders, just in case Meg has managed to message me and I’ve missed it, I huff loudly when I find nothing from my best friend. Tossing my phone onto the pillow, I throw my head down and groan into the covers. I don’t think I’ve ever been so bored in my life, and that’s saying something. There’s only so many times I can swim the same pool, eat the same food, play the same video games. If I don’t hear from her again really soon, I’m booking a flight to California and walking the entire 840 miles of coastline until I find her.

  A soft knock sounds at my door before it’s swung open, the sound of Axel moaning at Garrett reaching my ears. Rolling over on my mattress, my jaw drops at the sight in front of me. Both guys are wearing dark slacks and dress shoes, shirts clinging to their ripped forms with the top few buttons left open. Garrett’s pebble grey shirt is rolled up at the elbows, his biceps straining against the material, while Axel’s lilac one is buttoned at his cuffs. The hunger in my eyes is reflected in Garrett’s hazel ones as he glances over my oversized t-shirt and panties combo like a predator who has found his prey. Axel’s hand grips his forearm, pulling him back as if he could read Garrett’s mind.