fourteenth: push

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I rose to my feet, walking towards the sink. I washed my face, gazing at my bare body. The marks he had made. I had the sudden urge to rip my skin off. But that wouldn't change the person I was. The repulsive, hateful man I had become.

I walked back into the bedroom and dressed. I still had to wait for an hour. After everything I had done. I had to go through another sixty minutes.

I made my way out into the hall and ran up the staircase. The mansion seemed to be deserted. From my research, I knew that Reznick had had a slew of unsuccessful marriages. He now apparently invested time in spirituality. Which of course, was clearly untrue from his highly feral acts in the bedroom.

I reached a large wooden door, opening it and finding myself in a study. There was a computer set up on a table in front of me. A few shelves with sheaves of paper. I entered and shut the door behind me. The one positive thing about Reznick was that he didn't lock his computer rooms and even sometimes gadgets. He was well known for his notoriously short memory. He lived alone, and I hoped he didn't keep his bank statements locked.

I was mistaken, however. All the shelves were shut tight. The few open ones had useless pieces of articles.

I groaned in frustration. I gazed around the room. It was a cluttered office space. There was a pile of documents on the table and a paper shredder on the table beside it. I crouched and started looking through the waste paper dustbin. I needed to find any proof of his bank statements. Any of the five accounts that were not known to the public but he had admitted to me in a state of lust.

There were what looked like hundreds of balled up bank statements. I tried to go through them as quickly as possible, my stomach clenched in anxiety. I knew Reznick would be out till morning, but it was getting harder and harder for me to stay there. Each breath felt like sand rolling down to my lungs.

Most of the statements that I got were from well-known banks. A few were from ones that I had never heard about, but a quick search told me that they were major banks that were simply not as good at advertising as the other ones.

It took me forty minutes to finally find three statements that were related to three different smaller banks. They were rather obscure and hence suspicious to me. I checked the dates on them which were almost a week ago.

Reznick's haphazardness had favoured me. There were still a few statements left to go through and my eyes caught on one in particular. Comparing two statements, I saw that they were interrelated. One of them was from a major bank. Matching the account numbers, I could tell that Reznick had transferred money from his own account in one of the bigger banks to another account in the smaller banks.

It made no sense to me. What was he trying to achieve? To balance out the money? For tax fraud? That could have been a possible reason if all the accounts hadn't been under his name which would nullify any attempts at income tax fraud. I took the statements and clicked a picture. I would carry the hard copy of them back as well, but just to be safe, I liked to have a backup.

After making sure everything looked as pristinely dirty as it was before, I rushed out of the room and ran straight downstairs. My heart hammered painfully. I hoped whatever evidence I had obtained, would be worth it. I ran down the staircase, stopping dead in my tracks when my eyes fell on a massive photo framed on the wall. A smiling Reznick stared at me, a huge certificate in his hand. At the top of the frame, a few words were written-

Highest donator. Thank you for being our hero!

A smiling woman was handing the certificate to him. Scrawled on it were the words, 'Tender Heart Social Institution.'

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