A Bittersweet Life (1st draft)

Chapter 10

My bed was littered with the papers from the file. On the top of each sheet was the name "C. Clarke" written atop a thick swipe of white-out. Most of the dates on the bottom were from about three years ago. Ellis had to know about Charles's past before he hired him. A knot formed in my throat as I read deeper.

Words like "mantic outbursts" and "bipolar disorder" "unstable" were gut-wrenching to me. Who the hell was this man?

I glanced down at the manila folder that was tossed to the floor. A piece of paper peeked out from its corner. I scooted off the bed and pulled the paper out. This one was different than the rest. It wasn't from the mental institution. It was from a hospital and the date on the bottom was from five years ago. The name on the top said, Clarissa Clark. I read down the page over all of the unimportant medical information. My eyes stopped mid-page at the words "attempted suicide?" Yes, there was a question mark. It was as though the doctor had no idea what happened to Clarissa. I read further down and it explained the large cut down her arms, how many stitches she needed, and so on.

I shoved all of the papers back into their rightful place. My head was spinning. Was I the only one thinking Charles was a psycho? Ellis had to know, he couldn't be that dense. But who was I to ask him about it? What if I'm completely wrong? My mind began to wander, then, to Ryland. Oh god, Ryland. He saw me snooping. He's going to tell Charles and then he'll definitely know I'm the one that stole from him.

My skin grew warm and perspiration covered my arms. I had to set things straight. Tell Ryland I was just dropping off the check and that's it. I put it in the drawer and nothing more. Or, maybe I tell him what I found. Tell him that Charles is dangerous. I paced my room knowing that sounded completely ridiculous, even more so when I thought about it. I snatched up my car keys. I had to tell him something, anything.

Scurrying to Ellis's office, I found the emergency contact list that he left for me. At the top of the list was Mark Pierce. I only hoped he would be home to tell me where Ryland lived. I entered the address into my phone and hurried to my truck. Why I was in such a panic, I didn't really know. Maybe it was my adrenaline kicking in from what I just read. All of the words on those pages swirling around my head. I shook them from my mind. I had to focus on only one thing, clearing my name.

Mark Pierce's house was so quaint. Nothing like the Clarke's or Ellis's. A white fence lined the property and the house sat on a small lot with two other houses right next to it. I had to park outside the fence a few feet away because their driveway was blocked off with tape after getting repaved. I walked up the edge of the driveway. An American flag poked out from the side of the garage. The wooden porch creaked under my feet. A small yellow rocking chair, with an unreadable name in white paint across the back of it, sat next to the black door. This place felt like an actual home. Not a palace.

Just as I was about to knock on the door, it swung open. Mark gasped in fear, holding his hand over his heart.

"Talia... Hello." He tried to catch his breath, steadying himself by holding onto the door frame.

"Hi, Mr. Pierce." He looked so casual in basketball shorts and a black tank top. Obviously not going into work today.

"Sorry, you startled me." He finally got a hold of himself and smiled. "Can I help you with something?"

"I just need you to tell me where Ryland lives."

"He lives here," he said with a cocked head.

"Oh, he does?"

"He should be home soon, he just called me. I'm heading out to the gym. But, you could wait for him in his room if you would like."

"Sure. Thanks." I walked inside while he walked onto the porch.