The Journal [A Sequel To Maya's Diary]

Chapter Seventeen

Edward's POV

I remained calm despite his introduction, to dissolve any form of suspicion whatsoever. For a very long time, I had played my cards so carefully and well. I had maneuvered my way past severally. Today wouldn't be any different I thought.

He asked if he could come in, and I briefly nodded in response. He walked in, taking a step by thrusting his brown animal skin colored shoes in before the rest of his body pushed through. His smirk didn't depart from his face, but however increased. I wasn't scared because I knew I would slip away like I've always done. I might even...kill him should the need arise. He looked around taking note of the messiness. The old pizza box still popped it's edges out for attention. I realized he hadn't seen that and forcefully kicked it under the couch.

I requested he sat at one end of the couch and tried feigning a smirk. I got a bottle of bourbon from the kitchen counter and poured it's liquid content into the glass sets I got along with it. Our conversation started lightly. We talked about music and surprisingly, he loved Jazz. I personally didn't fancy the concept of singing mostly because I was a horrid singer, but I tagged along to avoid the slightest bit of suspicion. The only times I listened to music performances, were at bars when I tried drowning my sorrows at the bottom of a bottle of scotch. My father was a stupefied drunk. I guess my drinking trait dates back to him except for the fact that unlike his excuse for a reason, I had my genuine reason; I drank to forget about him.

My past was dark and gloomy. I refrained from the subject of family mostly every time Maya brought it up, because I didn't want to be reminded of where I came from. I had only one sister; Annabelle who for some reason, ran away from home at the middle of the night and never returned. I guess she couldn't bear the horror display at home any longer.

My father, as earlier indicated, was a drunk and a terrifying brute. He always ranted that his children were the worst things that ever happened to him, and his wife, my mother Eva, his biggest regret. He would pounce on her the very slightest opportunity he got and on us too. I once questioned her sanity once and repeatedly asked why she still lived with him and her response baffled me. She replied by saying that she was married to him for both good and bad. Although in their case, there was mostly bad and rarely good. Ok there was never good.

My father would return from wherever he spent the majority of his day and bark at the littlest error or create one where there wasn't. I hated him. I hated his guts and more importantly, I hated the fact that I slowly evolved to being just like him. Even though I've been denied the privilege of being with my babies, I would never reveal even in the slightest an inkling of my monstrosity. To them, I would be the Knight in shining armor and the heroes in their tales. I would be their father even though I didn't get a good one.

My thoughts had wandered far off and it was only when I noticed the fleshy protrusions around his mouth moved about, forming curves and revealing a marveling arranged set of pearled dentition, that I realized he was speaking to me. I might have given him the wrong impression that I listened ever so intently probably because my eyes were still locked at his with the feigned smirk I still had on since his arrival.

"Edward! Are you listening to me?" he asked. He must have probably noticed my absentmindedness. I nodded briefly and paid a more careful attention to him. He had finished his drink and poured himself another, while mine still rippled within the glass at every single move I made. The dreadful topic of music had been cast aside and in it's place came the main reason of his visit. He started with the insecurity issues facing him and how he conducted minimal house searches for the missing people. What a very foolish decision to visit my house without an escort.