Captured

The cell was dark and dirty. The sound of dripping water echoed against the walls.

I never knew this place was under my home.

It reminded me of a medieval dungeon, something that would have existed hundreds of years ago.

But not now. Not in the twenty-first century.

I sat curled up in the middle of my cell, silent tears rolling down my face.

How could my father do this to me?

How could he just become so cold, so unattached?

At the sound of a door opening I lift my head and watch as my father stopped in front of my cell, a flashlight in his hand.

He moved his light so that it illuminated my face, causing me to blink and shade my eyes.

“Have you eaten?”

I glared at him.

How dare he put me here and then ask about my health?

He sighed when I didn’t say anything, “Try to understand, Matty. I didn’t want it to some to this, but I can’t take the chance that they find out about what you know.”

I swallowed, “Who’s they?”

“Everyone. All our friends and associates, the people who come to our parties and social gatherings…”

“So, what you’re telling me, is that basically everyone in our social class and above will have a problem with something I may or may not know about?”

My father nodded, “That’s correct. If they found out you know about the League-“

“I know nothing!” I screamed.

He shook his head, “You knew about the killings, about my leadership.”

“I asked about them! I never believed it to be true, at least not until you tossed me in here like a piece of old garbage.”

My dad sighed, “The idea had already been planted inside your head, you would have thought about it until you said the wrong thing to the wrong person.”

Apparently I’ve already done that, but I didn’t say anything about it to him.

“I’m just looking out for you.”

I shook my head, “No, you’re looking out for yourself.”

At my words his face grew tense, “How dare you say that to me? I raised you after your mother left us!”

I frowned, “She didn’t leave us, she died.”

He mumbled a response.

“What?”

He glared at me, “That’s what you’ve been told.”

I felt the blood drain from my face, “What? Are you telling me that everything I’ve been told is a lie?”

“Of course it is. Haven’t you ever questioned your lack of memory when it comes to your mother’s funeral?”

I shook my head, “I was only seven. I thought I had just blocked the memory.”

My dad laughed, “You were never at a funeral, therefore you never had a memory to block.”

I gaped at him, “So she’s been alive all this time?”

“Yes.”

I stared at him, “Why haven’t you told me this? Where is she? Why wouldn’t she want to come and see me?”

My dad looked at me with impassionate eyes, “Do you really think I’d let her do whatever she wanted after she tried to leave me? Then she had the gall to hire a lawyer to get full custody over you. She didn’t want you anywhere near me.”

I stared at him shocked, “What did you do?”

He raised an eyebrow, “What do you think I did? I locked her up.”

And with that he left, leaving me in the dark with my thoughts.

~*~

I was once again curled in the middle of my cell, the dark closing in on me.

It’s been hours since my father left me, leaving the knowledge that my mom may still be alive.

Now fresh tears rolled from my eyes.

Tears that weren’t just for my situation, but for my mother.

Did he lock her up in a dark damp cell as well?

Is she dead, or alive?

As another tear fell to my cheek a hand wrapped over my mouth, cutting off my screams.