-RUTHLOW-

I tried to put it in, but I could hardly see. I rubbed my eyes again, but my vision was still blurry. I blinked repeatedly, and it cleared a little. I shook the keys in my hand, and brought them closer to my face.

Fuck, I had been trying to use the wrong key.

I went through the rest of the keys, and took the correct one. I moved it towards the key hole but my hand was so unsteady that I kept scratching the side of the locks repeatedly. After more rounds of trying, the key finally inserted into the lock and I turned it.

I stumbled inside, the bottle in my right hand. It was covered in kraft paper, and the crinkling sound was getting on my nerves. I brought the rim of the bottle to my lips, and downed the rest of the liquid down my throat.

The front door closed and locked automatically behind me, and I nearly tripped over the flat floor but managed to find my footing just in time. The bottle wasn’t as lucky, and it shattered upon its impact on the wood. I paid it no mind, and hobbled towards the kitchen.

I collapsed to the floor before the dishwasher, which was loaded a few days ago but I never had the time to turn it on. I put my face in my hands, and tried to summon focus back into my mind. But it wasn’t working. I crawled across the floor to the fridge, and opened it with one hand, still on the floor.

I reached in, and grabbed a can of beer. I rested my back once more against the dishwasher, and sighed deeply. I blinked my eyes a few more times, and ran my fingers over my face. Stubble was collecting and I couldn’t be bothered to think about shit like making myself presentable.

The can opened, and I took a deep gulp of it, just as images forced its way into my mind, and I felt weakness overtake my body. My muscles slackened, and I was never one to show weakness, but I could feel my eyes moistening.

Fuck it all.

I finished the can of beer, and reached into the fridge for another, but when I faced the front again, my eyes caught something. Vea was walking from her bedroom, and opening the front door. She took something from the ground before she came back in and walked up to the kitchen counter.

She barely looked at me before she rounded the counter and removed the knife from the block. She walked back to the package and cut into the cupboard. It parted and she reached in to take the item out. She held it in her hand.

It was a dildo.

She took it and went back towards her room without speaking even a word to me. I glanced at her bedroom, and saw her door was ajar. I looked down at my arm which was on my knee, and inhaled. After a while, I sipped from the beer until it was half finished, and I slowly squeezed the can until it deformed. I closed my eyes and hoped sleep would come.

Just as sounds of Vea masturbating filled the silence in my dark home.

X-X-X

The room was submerged in relatively dim lighting that had a yellow tint to it. The interior design was coloured primarily in earthy tones of green and brown, and the flooring was carpet. The moment I walked into the room, the softness under my feet made me feel like I was in a place that would deliver comfort to me.

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

Now, seated in the dark brown arm chair, I had my elbows on my knees, and my fingers were interlocked. My mind was still as foggy as it was in the last few days, and I felt the beginnings of another craving to have a drink to dull my senses further.

“I know this is a safe place,” I said. “I can speak whatever I want, and I know they remain within the confines of these four walls. I don’t have to worry that my deepest, darkest secrets will get out, and I’d lose the respect of everyone in my community. Here, we can explore.”

Silence fell.

I rubbed my fingers against one another. The AC was turned to its lowest setting, and yet I could feel the all too familiar wet heat spreading up my back. I cracked my knuckles a few times, and wondered if my fingers would snap.

“Right?” I said.

The other person looked at me, and smiled. “Yes.”

I dropped my head to the carpeting. “Good.”

There was a pregnant pause again, and I heard the whirring of the machines around me. In particular, the low humming of the AC that sat in the far upper corner of the room. I ran through the same few lines in my mind.

“I’ve done something terrible recently,” I said. “Something unspeakable. Something that… I’m not sure I can say even in this room. Because I know even this confidentiality has its limits.”

“Why are you saying this to me?”

I stared at the other person. I was still wringing my fingers.

“I - “

Words failed me.

“The purpose of this session is to get to the root of the problem,” I said. “And pave the way to recovery.”

“Yes,” the other person said.

My lips thinned. “That’s why we’re here.”

“Well then?”

“We should start,” I said, and the hairs on my arm raised. “How do we begin?”

“That’s your job to know,” he replied.

I nodded.

“After all,” he said. “You’re the therapist.”

X-X-X

This is it.

That was my first thought the moment I answered the door bell by swinging the front door open, and came face to face with a pair of men dressed in blue. Policemen. My heart immediately sank to the ground, and my breath left me. I watched their austere expressions, looking at me with questions in their eyes.

“Mr. Ruthlow?” one of them asked.

“Yes,” I said, pulling up the facade of composure right away. “How can I help you?”

“We decided to drop by to ask you a few questions…” the other said.

Time was running out.

“Sure,” I said. I could already feel the slap of the cold metal handcuffs on my wrists.

“When is the last time you saw this boy here,” he said, holding up a picture. It was that guy I killed some time back. So that was what they were here for.

“I believe at church a month ago,” I said.

“Well then, where were you on 15 July this year?”

The day of the murder.

“I was with my godchild, Vea,” I lied. “We were watching television together.”

“Can she verify that?”

“Yes,” I said.

They shared a look. “The boy’s mother believes that Vea has something to do with his recent disappearance,” one of them said.

“The two of them had their differences at school, but that’s all,” I explained.

“Oh well,” the other said. “She also mentioned something else. Vea apparently told her son some time ago that she had a rather, umm, unnatural relationship with you.”

I turned to steel.

“What kind of relationship do you have with your godchild?” he asked.

“A parental one,” I said with a stiff smile.

“Have you ever had sexual relations with her?”

I could hear time grinding to a halt. I stood there, smile still etched into my face. The world spun, tilting on its axis as I heard the same question over and over again.

“Mr. Ruthlow?”

“I hope you find the boy soon,” I said.

“Have you ever had sexual relations with your goddaughter?”

Their voices became drowned out by the incessant ringing in my ears. My smile split further, and the tendrils of my mind came loose. I could barely make out their voices now. They were a deep buzzing, like my head was submerged under a body of water and they were talking right above the surface.

“Hello?” the policeman said again.

I laughed.

“Please answer the question,” he said.

“No,” I replied. “I haven’t.”