Chapter Thirteen

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I cannot stop thinking about that damned file, it is all that occupies my mind and I curse my parents whoever they were for whatever obsessive genes were passed onto me because it's two pm and I'm sneaking into Mr Marbroi's office to retrieve the file. Well, I'm not exactly sneaking in, I'm doing my job because I'm dropping off files that he requested from the archives. But I plan on searching for my file in his office, and taking photos of it. So I'm not necessarily stealing, or doing anything wrong. Just reading confidential information about myself...it makes sense to me.

It's a warm afternoon and the rain of the season has finally let up, the warm air blows in through the kitchen window. The office is particularly quiet today and so my only work would be organising the archives and dropping off requested files. The fighting team has gone out for some training and I secretly envy them. I miss training with people - of course I've been training on my own but it's just not the same. And the team is in a meeting right now, not one Griffin has to attend, so not one I have to attend.

I've been in the staff kitchen for a couple minutes, just getting a feel for the office before I approach Mr Marbrois office with the file cart and its annoyingly squeaky wheels. His office is just as it was the other day when I met with him, empty, neat and clean. The familiar scent of books and a sandalwood diffuser wafts into my face as I walk through the door. 

I start by putting the files he requested on his bookshelf, none of them hold any information that's worth anything. After doing that I quickly scan his room for anything I should beware of then I begin searching his drawers. The first drawer just holds office supplies, the second drawer holds a gun and its bullets. The final draw has a bunch of papers and files, I run my fingers over them searching for that light blue file with my name on it. It finally shows itself, hidden underneath all the files, intentionally or unintentionally. I pull it out of the drawer and  set it on the desk, browsing through its many pages. I wouldn't think an employee file would be this packed with information, I pull out my phone to take photos of the pages and oh- Oh. Shit.

It isn't in my back pocket where it usually is, my mind reels into a convoluted web of options and I pull myself back from panicking when I realise I can just quickly make copies on his printer, I close the drawer and approach his printer when I hear a pair of footsteps growing closer.

The hallways have been dead silent all day and now that I'm here someone decides to galavant? Just my luck. I panic and half run half skip over to my trolley and stuff my file under the other files I need to drop off, I quickly leave the room and to my avail it is just a random employee headed to the staff gym. I give him a small and hopefully not suspicious smile and pray that he forgets my face if Mr Marbroi realises I stole the file and demands witnesses. Which is highly unlikely because I will return the file immediately, or tomorrow, or when I finish reading it.

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I read the file. I haven't slept in a week. I have been pacing back and forth, and spent nearly a full day in the gym last Saturday. I need answers, and I don't know how to get them. I am so baffled, and I feel so betrayed. It's like a well has opened up inside of me and threatens to consume me whole. I'm sitting at my kitchen island, with only an empty beer bottle. I don't think I've been eating well either, I've sort of been in a haze. Just waking up, going to work, coming back and staring at the ceiling. I'm staring at my kitchen sink now, feeling desolate when I hear my phone ringing in my bedroom. I'm considering ignoring the call when I remember Dom texted me earlier that she'd call. I head to my room, and it's like I'm viewing my body as I walk. I'm not myself right now, that file has ruined me and I wish I hadn't read it.

I answer my phone,

"Ayla!" Her familiar voice echoes through my vacant mind.

"Dom," I say, trying my absolute best to sound normal.

"Who the hell died?" She asks, immediately picking up on my tone. I never was a good secret keeper.

"I found something, Dom." Is all I manage to get out.

"What is it?"

"My file, Mr Marbroi had it-"

"Shit does he know-" She interrupts.

"No, but he knows me, he knows everything about me and my past, Dom he knows more than I know," My voice cracks.

"What'd it say?" She says, her tone softening.

"I had a sister."

"Is that it?" She says, not impatiently but because she's expecting more?

"What do you mean?"

"We all knew that, Ayla."

"We?" None of her words are really registering but when they do I feel that well in my chest rip open even further.

"You didn't know-" Her words die out at the end, "I'm sorry Ayla, hold on." A second later I hear muffled voices and Luca comes back on her behalf.

"Ayla, let me explain-"

"I should let you fucking explain? Please Luca dearest father figure, give it a damned try before I book a flight just to kill each of you on my own."

"I need you to calm down first Ayl-"

"Don't tell me to calm down! Tell me the truth!" I didn't mean to raise my voice, and I didn't want to get angry but it's like all the emotions I should have been feeling this past week have hit me all at once. The first one and hardest to hit being betrayal.

"Yes I knew about it-"

"Correction, you all fucking knew about it, each one of you!" I take a breath, "Did Wyden know?"

"What?"

"Did Wyden know?" I iterate.

"Yes but-"

"Unfuckingbelievable." I scoff and nearly hang up the phone when I'm stopped by genuine curiosity. I want to know the full truth from Luca even though I already read it.

"Ayla just let me explain please," He says, his voice desperately pleading.

"Go for it," I say, anger rushing through my veins like it's been waiting for one thing to set it off.

"She died, along with your parents, in that car accident. You didn't because you were rebelling and hanging out with your friends, that's according to the cops."

"So why did you tell everyone and their mother but not me?"

"Ayla you had forgotten everything from that part of your life, the therapist said it was a trauma response and that we had to wait till you started remembering things to tell you, otherwise it'd trigger your response again. The problem is that the day of remembering things never came, not in all the twelve years you've been with us." He's wrong, I've been having dreams of little bits and pieces of my life for years, I just never told anyone because I was convinced it was just my imagination.

"Luca, do you understand how badly it hurts to know that you're physically too weak to remember parts of your own life, but to find out that your own family thinks that of you too?"

That well in my chest has turned into a blackhole of sadness now, consuming every last bit of happiness in its sight.

"Ayla we were just trying to protect you-"

"I don't need to be protected." I say before hanging up, and that's the truth.

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