"That shouldn't be possible. The fire happened thirty-seven years ago. Wasn't your father around three years old back then?"
The little crow has no talent for estimating other people's ages. Correcting her, I saw her speechless. So she really found my father attractive? So she really thought her age would be closer to his than mine, huh?
I have to disappoint her then, my father and her parted a full range of fifteen years, while she and I only have twelve years between us.
Either way, not only didn't I know anything about the nestling she had been, I didn't even know how she was at my age, her family status, anything.
It seemed I had to venture again into my father's office. I doubt he would not have any information about the wife he had chosen to take in as a substitute. Coming back out of my thoughts, I finally answered her. Remembering the exact yearbook, I placed it back, glancing down at the blond crown on top of her head, the ocean not revealing itself, probably of the close proximity.
Walking back to get my clothes changed, I thought about my father's connection to Liliana Humphrey, and I thought of Lesly's past as well as her connection to the original.
Back home, I went into my room playing with my guitar and waited for dinner, and the opportunity to get into my father's office again.
After dinner, I went to the garden, sitting under the window of my father's office, two stories away. Smoking into the night, I looked up occasionally, waiting for the light to go out.
Lesly should be in her room, and today my father would probably sleep in the bedroom with her again. Although I still don't know where he had been over the weekend, it was wonderful to see her free of his gasp, free of being dirtied by his touch, and without me, who couldn't bring himself to look away from that disgusting picture because it contained the little crow as well.
It would be the best for everyone if he would just disappear.
Playing with my lighter, I turned my head upwards, seeing the light of his office out of the corner of my eyes, but also watching the stars in the night sky.
If I could just place my hands around his neck and tighten my grip, he would never touch anyone ever again. Laughable how my mother wanted nothing more than his touch, while I wanted to chop his hands off. If he had the need for a substitute, I bet he could easily find someone who was more willing than the captured Lesly.
Still, it was me who hindered her from trying to escape, either saving her life or destroying it further.
The light went out, so I waited another half an hour, before sneaking up into his office. Looking through everything, I found documents of my father's company, again the marriage contract I already read, but not what I was searching for.
Only after leaving the desk and having a look behind decorations and furniture, I discovered a safe on the wall, a painting covering it, like in a bad spy movie. With a forearm's length and height, it was on the smaller side, probably holding documents in it.
Chuckling, I looked at the keypad.
Usually, you had tree tries for unlocking a phone, when the code was wrong each time, it would lock itself.
Would it be the same with this safe?
Was I ready to take the risk?
I will just assume that the code is four digits long because that would be the most convenient, contrary to a longer number. I also know that it couldn't be my birthdate, that of my mother, or anything related to us.
Liliana Humphrey was approximately seventeen years old when the fire in her school broke out, thirty-seven years ago. Thirty-seven plus seventeen gives fifty-four.
The present year minus fifty-four had to be her birth year.
Typing in the numbers, I pressed the enter button and had two red lights blinking at me—incorrect.
She couldn't have been eighteen already because the fire hadn't happened in her last year, though, she could also have been sixteen.
Adding one year to my last guess, I gave my last shot. I won't try for a third time as it was too dangerous.
A green light greeted me, the lock opening audible, revealing two facts.
First, Liliana Humphrey had to be the original, as her estimated birth year could open his private safe. Second, she is eight years older than my father.
So he really fell for someone older while he was a child.
Opening the safe, I found a few envelopes with documents. I just skipped over the most part until finding papers about Lesly, I made pictures so that I could read them later in my room.
I wanted to close the safe, but I changed my mind, taking out the other envelopes I photographed the documents inside, they could be useful in the future. Putting everything back into place, I locked the safe again, put the painting back on the wall, only now noticing then that it was a picture of Rome engulfed in flames.
I laughed quietly and turned to go, my findings in my phone.
********
Thomas POV
When I had brought the little blue-eyed child, Lesly, into the woods, and came back to your house, ready to bury Liliana together with you or toss her corpse out onto some forsaken site, I instead found the house on fire.
Panicked, I rushed inside and looked for you, but you were nowhere to be found. I only found the corpse of your sister, which you had put down on her bed, a blanket covering her, your last tender act before setting the house on fire.
After making sure that you weren't inside, I walked out and sat on a bench, watching the flames, knowing that you were gone from my life, leaving even your sister's cold body behind.
It took some time, but eventually the police came; they were convinced I was the culprit behind the fire and brought me to the police station; my parents were informed.
They came back from wherever they had been, together with a horde of attorneys.
But it didn't end with that. My parents, suddenly having developed paternal care, asked me, scolded me, and pleaded with me to tell them if I had been the culprit behind the fire, and, if I had done more than that, if I had killed someone.
They became agitated, my father going so far as to grab me by my collar, and when he did so, he caught a glimpse of my scars.
I remember my father stripping me violently, his face a ghastly mask of horror, while my mother screamed grotesquely when she saw my body.
I have never answered their questions, but I am certain they could have pieced together the answers. And, ultimately, the corpse of Liliana Humphrey was found in the burned-down house.
My parents thought I had killed her, but they bribed me out of the case, probably reasoning that even if I murdered my tormentor, it was legitimate to do so.
Yet, the newfound paternal care was soon forsaken, as they feared my battered body, my battered mind, and what I could possibly do in the future.
I suspect that my mother showed the pictures of Liliana to my deceased wife in an attempt to save her life. To warn her, telling her, 'Look, this girl had already died at his hands. So stop what you are doing.'
Who knew it would backfire, ending in the most absurd way?
Lesly looked breathtaking in her dress that was matched with my suit, ready for the soirée.
When we arrived, I could formally introduce her to my parents.
The look on their faces was priceless, having a carbon copy of the girl that I had allegedly killed as my mysterious new wife.
It was hilarious.