~Kamsi~

*
Everyone seems to have got hidden agendas. Sometimes we get lost while thinking of what seems like a façade. Everyone's a suspect, I don't even trust no one anymore. I let my guard down for a moment, and I get stabbed in the back with no remorse. But if you think of it, we're all the villains in our story. We're the bad guys we talked about, and wanted so much to discover. It sucks when you let your curiosity get the best of you, and you realise you'd been making the wrong moves the entire time. You realise you were the culprit, who nailed yourself to your own self-made cross.

*

When I got up in the morning, I felt way better than I had in the past days. Perhaps it was the delicious food I was served, by Mrs. Ginika, or the fact that I slept like a baby last night — for the first time in ages. But whatever it was, I was surely grateful for it.

As usual, and like every Wednesday morning, I got dressed for school. And although I didn't want to go to school, I felt the need to go because I didn't want to be at home - all by myself - and just staying bored out of my mind. That was the only reason which propelled me to get up from my bed and get dressed for school.

However, after breakfast — which was rather awkward and  tensed — I made my way upstairs, to grab a few notebooks I'd earlier left on my bed. Once I'd gotten hold of the books, I was already making my way downstairs, when I walked past my father's study. Large, stacked with shelves of books, brimming with intricate and definitely expensive interiors, and with paper littered on the large desk made out of quality oakwood — my interest got a little piqued. That room was rarely ever open.

I wanted to simply walk past, and make my way to my waiting driver who most certainly was waiting for my arrival with sheer annoyance, but... One look at that study, and I wondered if this was my ticket to finally getting a bit of answers. My father spent most of his time in there, and that was no secret. I figured that if he spent most of his time here, then there'd be a bit of information that could help clear out the all-too-many doubts I had, and perhaps provide me with a few answers. That, I hoped.

However, I considered heading out and simply waiting until after school to head into the study, but then, a part of me felt that I may not be able to get what I wanted then. He may have cleared his desk by then, thereby, making it even more difficult to find what I desperately needed to find.

And so, I ignored the part of me that screamed at me, asking that I quit snooping around and headed straight for the car - and I went into the study anyway. As soon as I walked in, I shut the door behind me because I didn't want anyone barging into the room, and catching me red-handed. I slowly made my way to the desk, caught up with clutters and clutters of paperwork. Asides all the overflowing paperwork on the desk, there was also a bottle of brandy and another half-empty bottle of bourbon, left on the desk. A small glass cup was left on the table, as well, with half-drunk bourbon contained in it. It was evident, without a doubt, that there was so much I could find in this large room. Why I hadn't thought of ever barging in here? That, I wondered and wasn't so sure of. Perhaps it was because my father never left this door open. It was always locked, and that made me wonder why he always did that. Although, I never tried breaking into the place, anyway.

I stared at the desk, and began shuffling through all the heaps of paper there. A good number of them were all concerned about his company, foundation and all other business-related stuff. However, I was determined to get something useful out of this place. I wasn't going to get discouraged, because right in the pit of my stomach, my gut instincts were telling me that there were more to all those paperworks than met the eye.

And so, I continued flipping through pages and pages of documents, files and whatever it was that I could lay my hands on. However, when it seemed like there was absolutely nothing here to rub dirt on my father's name, I soon caught sight of a white envelope with my father's name boldly sprawled on it. Curiously, yet quickly, I reached for the envelope, and noticed that it had already been read before since it had already been torn open at the top.

I soon opened the envelope, and retrieved a well-folded, crisp white paper. My brows furrowed in confusion, and wonder, as I read through what seemed to be a letter, which had been written by an unknown person, to my father.

“Charles. E,
I know you have the CD. It's only appalling that you'd go behind my back and get hold of such solid evidence that you know fully well could tarnish both our reputation. I'll have you know that I have worked so hard, painstakingly hard, to ensure that I have secured a bright future for myself, and to get myself where I am. You once made a mistake when you chose to side with me - once - but that doesn't mean you'd go ahead and stab me in the back once you feel you've had enough.
Don't forget, I'm not the only one with dirt on my hands. If you think it's wise for you to try acting smart with me, then please be my guest because you'll have another thing coming, my dear. Don't start a race you cannot finish, else, you'd have yourself dragged along the mud to the finish-line.
I'm not one to bluff, so please don't mistake all I've said to be one.
Get rid of that CD, Charles. Do that? And nobody gets hurt.”

The first thought that crossed my mind, the moment I was done reading that letter, was: what CD was being discussed in the letter? No doubt, the letter was clearly referring to my so-called father. Charles. E — short for, Charles Ekwegh. But that wasn't my main concern. I was much more concerned about the fact that my father knew this person, and was working with this person. Apparently, all I'd gotten out of the letter, was that there was a CD which my lousy father had gotten hold of. According to the letter, it seemed like if that CD had gotten out? Then, both my stupid, conniving, conceited, selfish, bastard of a father - and whomever had written that letter - would be in a lot of chaos.

Either way, I was concerned with finding that CD. I had to find it. And from the looks of things, it appeared to be that my father had it. And so, I hurriedly began to shuffle through the study. I checked the drawers attached to his desk, and the numerous shelves. I tried, as much as possible, not to leave any traces of my presence in this study. I made haste to be as brisk as I could be, and made all effort to find what I was looking for by searching to and fro, like I were in search of some important medication that'd perhaps determine my death or not.

I was too busy searching the desk again, flipping through all the files left haphazardly on the desk, that when the door to the study came open; I nearly had a heart attack right on the spot. I tried my best to keep everything in order, without giving whomever that had just barged in, the slightest bit of suspicion.

However, when I turned around to meet the gaze of the intruder, my heart froze over at the intense glare that was shot my way. A frown marred the face of the intruder, and I stiffened under the burning gaze that was enough to set my soul on fire. I tried my best to pull off a stoic expression, leaving my face as bland and expressionless as ever. Whereas, on the inside, I was jumping on hot coals and surfing through the most suitable lie to tell, in order to save myself from the never-ending abyss I was just about to be sucked into.

"Dad," I tried saying, but the man walked towards me, glaring swords and arrows at me. We both had a  heated stare-down, and because we both had nearly the same height, it was quite an intense stare-down we had. Although he was incredibly tall — which I happened to have inherited — I was still an inch or two, taller than he was.

"What were you doing?" His voice was calm, controlled, and collected. Although, I knew that there was a raging storm gathering underneath all that calmness.

I didn't flinch, however, and made my point crystal clear; delivering the message I wanted and leaving it to the effective acting skills I'd gathered over the years, to shield me from the wrath of this enraged man. "I came looking for you," I began, and I could tell he wasn't, in the least, convinced by what I'd said.

"For what reason exactly?" His eyes sent steams of rage my way, and dug into my head - almost like they were trying to shuffle through my thoughts, just so they could spit the obvious lie hidden beneath all that façade of nonchalance I was trying - ever-so-desperately - to pull off.

Still, I made no move to let a single expression break out on my face. I made to seem very composed about being caught red-handed, and was ever ready to divert the situation in my favour. "To apologise," My father gave off a surprised, yet, doubtful look. It was then that I realised that I had to crank up my acting a notch. "I shouldn't have ditched dinner like that. For that, I apologise."

It took all the willpower I had, to not barf in his face. But, I had to make my false apology seem as 'sincere' as could be. Of course I didn't mean a word I'd said. For that to have ever happened, hell'd have to freeze over first.

"And what made you come to your senses?"

I sighed. "I've been thinking," I sighed again. "I felt bad about how I must've embarrassed you in front of them like that. That, and the fact that I really don't like the fact that it seems like we've been in war with each other for far too long. I'm not doing this for you, though," I took a deep breath, actually meaning what I was about to say. "I'm only doing this for my mother. She'd never be happy to watch her family fall apart like this."

I watched as my father's once intense, hazardous gaze, melted into a soft, and understanding one. I could've sworn that I watched him tear up, and much to my dismay - it brought a small tug to my conscience, just seeing how genuinely touched he was. But, I didn't want to let my guard down by believing this man's false sincerity. If he could have a son like me, with top-notch acting skills, then he mustn't be bad himself in that field. I chose to believe that he was only putting up an act, as usual.

"I'm so proud of you, son," and without warning, he engulfed me in an embrace that brought the old memories spilling into my head like a leaking tap. Times when things hadn't been this crappy, times when my father wasn't such an arsehole, times when I loved my father, and respected him the most. They all rushed into my head, all at once.

Yet, I couldn't bring myself to return the hug. Instead, I stood there - almost as stiff as a board. I was caught off guard by the sudden hug. How could I hug a man, who wanted me killed? If there was anything I could forget, then it wasn't the fact that he had hired men to have me killed.

It had probably been ages since I last hugged this man right before me, let alone held hands with him, but at that moment; I found myself wishing things hadn't changed so much. I found myself wishing things didn't have to be all about raging war with my own father. I actually realised how much I missed the times when I actually did look up to him.

But looking back on then and now,

I knew that it'd be next to impossible to fix the broken pieces of our relationship. Not with what I'd just found out about him, and with the growing doubt and hidden truths about him, surfacing every now and then. No matter how hard I'd tried, I knew that things had changed. And things couldn't be changed from what it was now. And especially not with the growing curiosity and brimming lies and secrets that all encircled him in their tangled web. And even so, I didn't even bother about just how late I was for school.

All that mattered was finding the truth. Because I was convinced there was more to what had been going on in the past months. And it all had to do with this man, who was hugging me like his life depended on it. The same man who'd stab me in the back, and would hide my carcass, without any remorse.

* * *

"So you're telling me, that your father has a CD in his possession? And one that could ruin his image and possibly bring out the full truth?" Tyrone asked, as his eyes popped out of their sockets, in obvious shock.

"Yes." I replied, nonchalantly.

We were both having lunch at my usual table, and I felt it would be best that I let him in on the newfound information I'd gathered before making it to school, a bit later than usual.

"That's f*cking insane! I'm not you right now, but I know my hands are itching to get hold of that CD. What exactly could be on there?"

I shrugged. "I wonder the same thing." And I shoved a forkful of spaghetti into my mouth.

"Things are really getting intense, Kamsi. I really hope you're taking all this okay."

Concern was clear in Tyrone's eyes, but I only managed a small nod. Although, knowing that he cared only made me happier to know that he still had my back.

"Speaking of," he threw me a suspicious smirk. "You and Cinderella have been getting cozy lately. Wanna let your best bud in on the scoop?" He did a weird activity with his eyes, that nearly sent me into a convulsion.

"First, never - and I mean, never - do that thing you just did with your brows—"

"Oh, you mean this one?" Arsehole did it again, and I rolled my tired eyes. He'd never learn.

"— and second, who the hell is Cinderella?" I sent him a glare.

"You know..." He drawled, and winked. "A little chica with the pretty eyes and all, who you seem to like giving the googly eyes. Oh, and you two can't fool me with the 'hanging-out-in-the-library-just-because' thing. I'm smarter than that, y'know?" He smirked, and wiggle his brows at me. Again.

There were only two things holding me back from strangling the doofus sitting right next to me. One, I didn't want to have his dirty blood on my hands - and worse still, in the open. Second, I'd die of literal loneliness cause I'd be without a friend to talk with, and possibly cuss at.

"You're a plain, first class idiot."

He winced. "Says the motherf*cker who just won't admit that he likes a certain someone."

That was it. I sent him a cold glare, and gave him the finger.

To my dismay, he laughed. "C'mon! Don't be such a butthead and tell me. What's the deal with Angel? You like her?"

I already lost my appetite, so I shook my head at him and got up to leave. But before I did, I gave him one last glare and said, "I don't like her. I barely even know who the hell she is, so please quit making extremely stupid, and dumb assumptions. See you in class, friend."

"Gee, man. Could've at least given me a heads-up before going all 'I-don't-take-sh*t' mode on me. Some kind of friend you are!" He hollered, and I couldn't help but shake my head at his idiocy.

Either way, I'd never trade that bonehead for any sh*thead out there. That, I could guarantee.

* * *

When I got back from school, my mind wouldn't stop returning to the thoughts about the CD. A part of me wanted to go snooping around in that study again, but an even larger part of me wanted that I'd be asking for only trouble, and nothing else. It was tempting, and I could barely suppress the urge to just barge in there and search for that CD. If anything, then that CD was the key to finally having evidence against my father. Then everyone would truly see how much of a monster he was. They'd finally believe me over his closet of lies.

Meanwhile, as I made my way to my room, I came across Alisa's room. The door was shut close, and I wondered if it were locked too. My eyes lingered on that room, as I thought back to the day Alisa was shot in that very same room. I still couldn't understand what use Alisa was to anything that'd happened in this house. She barely knew the history behind it all, and so, it was indeed puzzling when I got the news that she had been shot.

Staring again at the door, I slowly walked towards the room. I wanted to see for myself, all that had happened before she got shot. I felt that, perhaps, I'd get some information since she was shot in her room. Maybe I'd find clues, or perhaps I'd be able to put the tiny pieces of the puzzle together.

Something about that girl made me wonder so many things. She was different, and crazy, but she was a good person. That, I could tell. Shoving the doubts that leaped into my mind, and considering walking into this room which seemed forbidden, I made my way into the purple haven. A room which seemed to have so many mysteries and a few answers withheld in its four walls. Also, a room which had had the blood of an innocent girl, spilled onto its floors.

Slowly, I placed a hand on the cold door knob — which hadn't been touched in days, even weeks — and twisted the door open. To my surprise, the door hadn't been locked and I quickly stepped into the dull room, which had the curtains closed shut. Once inside, I slowly shut the door behind me. I needed to act fast, because I didn't want anyone to catch me in this room. I'd be damned to let myself be caught snooping once again today.

The room had the smell of stale air.  It was equally stuffy, and dark. I turned on the light in the room, just so I could see through the dulled room. Walking fully into the room, I observed that it had been cleaned, because the sheets had been changed to a plain, crisp white pair. The floor were equally free from dirt, and blood - Alisa's blood.  I suddenly felt a crawling feeling of fright, creep under my skin. I couldn't forget the fact that she had been shot in this room.

But why?

I wasn't able to find an answer to that particular question. I had absolutely no idea why she was shot in the first place. As I walked towards the shelves in the room, not sure what exactly I was trying to find, I ran a hand through its polished wood. The shelf house thousands and thousands of books and I wondered if there was more to those shelves than simply old books.

I reached for a book, a book about constellations and astronomy. I returned that back to the shelf, and continued pulling out random books, and returning them after I'd discover that there were nothing more to them than only pages and pages filled with words. After a few minutes had gone by, I immediately felt like I was wasting my time snooping around that shelf.

I walked away from the shelf, determined to leave the room, but then... Something caught my eye. A book from the shelf had fallen to the ground, when I'd mistakenly hit it off the shelf, and I bent down to return the book to the shelf. However, I found something else. Hidden underneath the bed, and covered in what seemed to be dried blood, a crumpled note lay under that bed. I slowly reached for it, and a pang of anxiety crawled up my neck, and clawed at my chest.

'WHERE IS THE CD?' That was what was written on that little piece of paper, which had dried, old blood, caked to its edges. I wondered what CD was being discussed. I still hadn't forgotten that my father had a CD in his possession, and then why would someone send a note to Alisa, demanding for a CD as well? It couldn't have been coincidental.

Two things were involved in this case, either the person mistook Alisa for my father... Or my dad had sent this note to Alisa. Perhaps she got hold of the CD? Perhaps she was going to expose him, and the only way to prevent was for him to have her shot. That was very easy for me to believe, because I knew he'd done worse. Only thing that troubled my mind right then, was where exactly was that CD actually hidden? If I wanted to find out the truth, then I needed to get my hands on it. I had to.

"Yes, I told him... You have nothing to worry— wait a second, I'll call you back." That was Kambili's voice, and I took that as my cue to leave.

I couldn't let her see me. "Kamsi?" Unfortunately, I was too late.

*
Let's hope Kamsi finds that CD. Fingers crossed.

Sorry that updates are so slow. I sincerely apologise. School is more important than Wattpad, and that's why I have to really give it my all. Anyway, do leave a comment, vote and share. Pretty pleaseeeeee?🐼🐨

Till next time,
Bye!😘