Only You

Chapter 18

Somehow I made it to my bed, although I can't remember how. It's now seven in the morning and I have been listening to my alarm clock go off for thirty minutes unable to find the will to roll over and shut it off. I spent the entirety of the night tossing and turning back and forth in bed. After the anger and sadness towards my father worn off I realized that I had neglected a very crucial piece of information the night before. If I am correct in assuming that last night's Anthony is the same Anthony that I know of then its also safe to assume that they had been talking about Emily as well. Which means that my father played a role in her death. That piece of information is a lot scarier than anything else that my father told me last night.

"You cannot replace what you took from me"

Those words have played on repeat in my mind all night. Had my father played a role in her death? And if he had, how much had he really contributed? I cannot stand to imagine the scenarios, each one is worse than the last. Without finding out what exactly had happened I don't know how I'm ever going to face any of my friends. I don't think I can be their friends. It has become obvious that for the most part what I contribute to them is lies and sadness. I roll over and turn the alarm off. I can't hurt them more than I already have. I'm going to find Anthony and get the story out of him, then I am going to be honest with Declan. Even if my father had played a part, I was going to be honest about this and if I lost them as friends then I deserved it.

The real question was, how was I going to find him. I'm sure its not easy to talk to the head of a drug chain and I didn't even have the proper connections to make a first step. The only connection I had was through my father. I took a deep breath and fortified my resolve. I had to do what I had to do.

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That's what landed me in my father's study five hours later. I stayed home from school, deciding that I couldn't face Declan just yet. So I waited for my father to leave and even when he did I waited another hour.

I walk into his study and sit behind his desk. It was an unspoken rule to never set foot into this room without an invitation, and I can't even imagine the consequences if I were to be caught. I take a deep breath and open the drawer directly in front of me. Some pens, pencils, impeccably placed, each in its proper position. I push them aside, finding a file towards the back. Inside is a stack of papers regarding his personal assets, including his work office, his homes, lawyers, insurances.

I replace what I had done and moved to the filing cabinets to the right. Inside were work policies, employee's, company codes and the like. The next one was finances. Nothing seemed to be out of order, but then again if I was directing dirty money I wouldn't label it either. I'm sure he funnels the money in through separate accounts making it much harder to trace. From what I recall, his financial advisor is one of the best. The last file in this cabinet looked like personal assets as well. I open it up to find his will along with the deeds to all houses and the company. This was all worth millions of dollars, and my name was at the bottom. I frown. He can't have possibly written me into the will. But as I file through ever document every single item is stated to be passed down to me, with his signature, the lawyers, as well as witnesses I didn't recognize. The life insurance policy alone was multimillions. I could feel the color drain out of my face as the realization set in. What was he playing at. If I deserved the suffering he's given me in what world do I deserve to be set financially for the rest of my life. And if he is worth so much who is he in debt with, why resort to drug money? I replace everything I looked at precisely as they were and ran as fast as I could out of the room. I did not find any answers just more questions.

I needed some fresh air so I bundled up with multiple layers and walked out onto the front porch where my mother's porch swing stood. I smiled slightly and walked over to it, sitting softly into the cushions. I remember this would be my favorite spot to sit with my mother on warm summer nights, watching the rise and fall of the ocean. She would always sing me soft songs, or play her guitar. Those are the nights I miss most when I think of her. I sigh and try to recreate the soft sound of my mother's voice. After a while I could feel my eyes getting heavy as the sun started to descend lower in the sky.