I AM IN LOVE WITH THE DEVIL HIMSELF

Memories

   The next day, I chose to stay upstairs alone. I told Jake that I was having my period and wasn't comfortable with a guy hanging around me. He quickly darted downstairs, and the look on his face was priceless.

   I collected my hairpin and rushed to the locked door. To my surprise, the padlock seemed to open effortlessly. I felt a mixture of happiness and anger. Was it really that easy?

   As I stepped into the room, darkness enveloped me, but I had brought a flashlight just in case. With its beam, I searched for the light switch, illuminating the room's interior.

   The room defied my expectations. It wasn't dusty and abandoned; instead, it appeared as though someone had been here recently.

   Approaching a desk cautiously, I began to search through its drawers. My hope was dwindling until I stumbled upon something in the last drawer.

   Inside was an old wooden box, containing a picture of a beautiful family—a woman carrying a child, with a man standing beside them. They all wore radiant smiles, as if their happiness would never fade.

   There was also a locket. As I reached for it, a blurred memory flashed before my eyes. I flinched but decided to hold onto the locket.

  Rummaging further, I discovered some newspapers. Flipping through them, my attention was drawn to a man in a newspaper who bore an uncanny resemblance to the man in the family photo.

   The headline read, "Daniel Williams sentenced to five years imprisonment for physically abusing his—." I couldn't read the rest because my timer, set for three minutes before my visit to the locked room, began to ring. I needed to be cautious, so I set the timer.

   Stopping the alarm, I placed the box back in the drawer and turned off the light. Surprisingly, locking the door proved easier than I had thought—it locked with a simple touch.

   I hurried back to my room, sitting on my bed as I pondered what I had uncovered. The man in the article shared the same last name as me. Was he my father? It was possible, considering the reports that he was in jail.

   Questions swirled in my mind. Had he abused someone? Could he have been responsible for my coma?

   So many inquiries raced through my thoughts, but I knew I couldn't seek answers from others, as that would reveal my visit to the locked room. I had to uncover the truth on my own.