The Hunting

Chapter One:

14:08 PM, July 13th.

The Brownstone, New York.

Sweeping, a family past time, not the arduous back breaking sweeping of the floor. My family's past time is sweeping your room for bugs, transmitters and other devious devices that could harm your reputation or put you in an early grave. I always start with the door and thoroughly check the door, the frame, the architraves and even the door handle and lock, a bug can be anywhere. By 14:10 PM I successfully finish my sweep and find nothing out of place or remotely troubling.

My room is clear.

Dad is the CEO of the company, and we all know what that means, he's the shadiest individual on earth and is responsible for some of the darkest dealings in the free world, at least that is what he wants you to think, he's actually a gentle and loving father - don't tell anyone though because he will kill you and wouldn't hesitate about doing it either. I guess any CEO of the company needs to be able to put aside those things that make us human. Like feelings.

My room is the best positioned room in the house, I can see the street below clearly, the hustle and bustle of New York is evident as always, taxi's screeching down the road and people walking their horrible pets allowing them to pee on the trees that line the sidewalks. Can't they just go to a park or something? I also have a clear view to the stairwell, mom is standing at the landing of the second floor staring into my room, she's a severe woman and I've never been able to read her, her face looks as if its been chiseled from granite. She's always been cold faced, stony and completely devoid of all emotion. I think I've seen her smile maybe three times in my entire life. But she is the CEO's wife and I'm his daughter, a mirror image of her. Cut from the same stone. Mom stares into my bedroom and purses her lips, I instantly feel chills down my spine because my mother has that effect on everybody. I look around my bedroom and look for something that doesn't belong, my bed is unmade and I have a few pairs of jeans lying on the floor. I thought that I shoved them under my bed. Apparently not.

My desk is littered with books and papers for school, I have to email mom a copy of them to proof because if I get anything less than an A it will effect my perfect GPA, I plonk myself down and put my head in my hands. I really should have taken longer to do my sweep when my laptop buzzes with a notification, I look at the top right hand corner wondering what I notification I have and whether its worthy of immediate attention. It's an email from an unknown sender. I click into the notification and it opens a wider view of the email. There is nothing in the subject bar but my name is spelled out clearly in various fonts and sizes, VaLErIE and a JPEG of me with my head in my hands. I missed this in my sweep is all I can think until my brain starts to function and I do what my father taught me, I grab the laptop firmly and run up the stairs to mom, show her the email and hand her the computer, in one swift motion she opens the laptop as far as it will go and with a slight amount of pressure snaps the screen from the keyboard. She then takes out her phone which like mine is encrypted with the best encryption software on the planet, she types out a text to my dad: Contact Made. I hear the universal sound of a message being sent and look my mom dead in her cold black eyes, I don't even need to speak the question thats dying to get out of me. My mom drops her phone on the floor and stomps on it with her impressive high heels, instantly the phone is destroyed, my mom doesn't look like she has a lot of strength but when it comes to prying my phone from my vice like grip she is a force to be reckoned with. Soon enough my phone has a small heel sized wound and lies beside her disfigured phone.

She fast walks over to her wardrobe, I've been in the wardrobe so many times but I don't know why she's going to dads side, all of his impeccably pressed suits hang evenly, all of his shoes line the wall, this is where mom stops, she starts throwing dads shoes off the racks and glances at me over her shoulder.