The Me You Can't See (H.S)

41

Unknown POV:

With each of her confessions, the walls in this basement seem to get more confining. She's lying, please tell me she's lying.

It doesn't feel real and the more I listen to the recording on repeat the more suffocated I feel. This isn't right, she doesn't deserve this and who am I if I go through with this plan, though I think a large part of me was ready to end it all a long time ago.

I didn't think he could get worse, but like always he surpasses every expectation I set for him. I didn't expect him to be a good person, I didn't hold out hope that he would do kind things in his life because I didn't work for his cartel because he had a reputation for being a good person. But there's a fucking line, when enough is enough, a clear line that is almost impossible to cross. A bar set so low that the devil himself could reach up from the pits of hell and touch it and not only did he cross it, but he decimated it.

He had one job as a father. One main job and that was it. He just needed to protect her but instead, he made her feel the opposite.

I'm done. This can't go on anymore and I won't do this. What am I even doing this for anyway? The days go by and the more I observe her the more I question whose fault it really was. Most days I have to remind myself of what she's done and as time progresses the more anger leaves my body and the more guilt is filled in its place.

Getting up from my chair I pace around the cement-covered room that resembles a jail cell more than anything while a cold draft passes through the large empty room.

"Fuck." I scream out and crouch down until the palms of my hand make contact with the cold grey cement.

My anger seems to be bubbling to the surface and sometime soon I'm going to explode. And by sometime soon I mean right now.

The stupid fucking recording repeats over and over again from the spot I set on a loop and if it's possible I can hear more pain and fear the more I listen to the sound of her broken voice.

I let out a scream of my own from frustration that I could have ever worked under a person like Malcolm, could have ever trusted a man who raped his daughter.

I stand up from my crouched position and I can't seem to control my temper as I flip over the surveillance table, thousands of dollars in equipment breaking upon impact.

It's not enough as the crackling of her voice still plays over the barely working radio. I stomp and kick the equipment as it's not enough until everything lays under my feet with shattered pieces in the place of the once expensive and important tech.

I pull out my gun, shooting the stuff for good measure as if it's a person I have to make sure is actually dead.

The metal door creeks and I aim my gun at the intruder. "Hey, boss it's just me." Oliver puts his hands up in defence.

"What the fuck do you want?" I question.

"I heard the shots, just checking to make sure you're ok." he asks while I stand in a pile of broken pieces, my gun now pointing towards the ground.

"I'm fine." I respond curtly and he nods, turning around to leave when my voice bellows out. "Wait."

He turns around giving me his full attention and I move leisurely across the room to scribble down Avery's address with the location of each recording device placed within her apartment. "Are you gonna stand there all day or come fucking get this." I hold out the piece of paper for him.

He rushes over, quickly and reading the piece of paper over his eyebrows scrunch in confusion. "Boss?" he questions.

"That's the address of someone's apartment. I need you to go in and take out all the recording devices I listed there and I want you to make sure not a single one is left. Do you understand?" I confirm with him.