Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 77265 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77265 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
What secrets lurk beneath each of those men…
I remember taking that picture. It was before Romy, before Kaitlyn, before Emma. Just the four of us. Life was almost simple back then when I was playing by Dad’s rules and doing his bidding.
How many lives did I ruin for the sake of CUP and my father?
Too many.
Guilt is an ugly beast who rears its head often. Especially when I think about my girls or LuLu. I could have told my father no or put him in his place whenever he did his fucked-up shit. Instead, I played along, biding my time, all the while hoping to find Calista, morals be damned.
He manipulated you. Fucked with your mind. You weren’t you, Caius.
Romy is better than any therapist. She gives it to me straight. Doesn’t erase what I did but reminds me I was a creation by my father and when I shed that skin, I could become the man I am today.
Father, loving partner, someone who cares about the innocent.
Where is my dad?
The bathroom is empty of the man who ruined my mind and life. It’s as if he gave us the slip. I really thought he’d face me man to man.
There’s another picture on a table by the window in his room. This one is of the two of us, the day he brought me home. The teenager in the picture is lost, mentally broken, and so fucking sad.
He took advantage of that boy.
Used and manipulated him for his own gain.
I turn the photo facedown on the tabletop and then something catches my eye. His window has a direct view to my home. The window you can see from this vantage point is the one behind my desk in my office.
How many times did this man watch me, waiting for me to crack so he could seep his evil inside of me?
“Unbelievable.”
“You know I like having my eye on my boys, Son.”
The sharp prick on my neck follows my father’s words. I whirl around to find him standing there, a dripping syringe in his hand.
“What did you do?” I snarl, touching my neck.
A wave of dizziness washes over me and I stumble. I’m vaguely aware of Dad easing me into a rolling desk chair. My head falls back and I stare at the ceiling until my eyes drift closed.
And then we start moving.
Riiiiing.
Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiing.
Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing.
I wake to the maddening sound of a telephone ringing. Not a cell phone but one of those obnoxious landline ones. Rubbing at my eyes, I sit up in bed, taking in my surroundings.
A trickle of fear courses through me.
I know this room.
To be sure, I slide out of bed, swaying from the drugs still in my system, and head for the curtains. I grab hold of the dark material and yank, sending the rod and curtain clattering to the floor.
No window.
Just a wall.
I’ve been here before. My early days here come rushing in. The terror of being trapped. The acceptance of living with a monster.
I’m not a kid anymore, though.
I refuse to be his mindfucked toy any longer.
The phone continues its incessant ringing. Because I want it to stop, I pick it up and hold it to my ear.
“Caius?” a young female voice whimpers.
I know the voice. My sister? I don’t have a sister.
“Who is this?” I demand.
She sobs. “It’s me. Calista.”
“This isn’t real,” I bark out. “You’re not real.”
I slam the phone down and it immediately rings again. “What?”
“Please,” she begs. “Help me.”
“I know what you’re doing, Dad. I built that fucking program, remember? It’s AI.”
“I’m real,” she whimpers.
“Liar.”
There’s a pause as if she’s taking orders from someone. Or Dad is just fucking with me. My head is too foggy for any of this to make sense.
“Send them away,” she tells me. “If you send them away and just talk to him, he will let me live.”
The psychological games he plays are so fucked up.
They’re so real.
“He took me from my parents. They’re probably so worried.”
“Mom and Dad are dead, remember? And they’re mine, not yours. You’re a fucking figment of my imagination.”
“No,” she croaks out. “I’m real.”
The ache in her voice sounds genuine. When I designed that program to mimic a voice in real time, I didn’t expect it to sound so lifelike. It’s only fair I’m being mentally attacked by my own creation.
I hang up the phone and rush over to the door. It’s bolted shut and not going anywhere.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I have to get out of here.
Will Theo figure out I’m in trouble and come after me? Or is he in on Dad’s shit?
I’ll never be able to trust Theo if we get out of here alive.
Think, Caius.
I race back over to the phone, wishing I had Romy’s photographic memory. Dad has taken both my phone and my weapon. Maybe I can call for the police if this phone hasn’t been fucked with to prevent me from doing it.