.10.
The apartment was quiet as Katharine opened the door. The light from the corridor shone brightly, illuminating the small hallway softly before the hallway basked in light became dark once more. Katharine laid her bag on the table next to the door, and slipped her coat from her body, hanging it up on the wooden coat stand. She picked her bag up before moving into her open plan living room and kitchen. Laying her bag onto the dining table, she moved into the small kitchen and grabbed a glass from the overhead cupboard, and allowed the water from her tap to fill it up to the top.
She moved back to the dining table where she sat, staring at the bag. A folder peeked out of it. She sipped at the water, feeling the coolness of the liquid run down her throat. She nearly cancelled on Matt when she had received the folder a few minutes before she was due to leave the office. Her boss had been acting differently all day, before, once her colleagues had left the office to go back home, he had come to her side as she was packing her things up and preparing herself to leave. He hadn't said a word as he handed her the folder, and before she could ask anything about it, he had walked away and gone back into his office closing the door behind him. She knew that was a sign to not go after him and ask questions.
They usually got cases where all communication was cut off due to the importance of the case, or the amount of confidentiality needed for the case. The temptation to have a look was high, but there was a part of her that was scared to look into the documents. Usually with cases that required ultimate confidentiality, it was going to be a rollercoaster in every sense.
She set the glass on the table before turning on a lamp, allowing the entire apartment to be lit up. The folder was heavy, filled with a large amount of information. She laid the folder on the dining table, and opened it up. She took a deep breath as her eyes stared at the woman in the grainy photograph. A woman she hadn't seen for years. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to remember what the woman looked like when she knew her. Her hair was shorter in the photograph, but it had always been long; like the hair of a princess. Blonde, shiny and beautiful. She missed being able to play with it, like she always used to do before things changed. The photographs were not good quality, and were obviously taken with a camera of poor quality, but it was definitely her. She never forgot a face, not even hers.
Inside the folder were more photographs. Some of the same quality as the first, and some of better quality. There more photos of her, and of a little girl. She squinted at the photographs of the girl; someone she had never met before who seemed strangely familiar.
"It's true," a voice said from behind her.
Katharine jumped, and turned around quickly. A man sat in the armchair in front of the window, causing her to be unable to see his face. Her eyes scanned across the darkness where his face was, and that was when she felt it. A soft draught tickled the skin on her face.
"What is?" Katharine asked, not even asking how the man had gotten into her apartment. If someone wanted to get into any place, they would always find a way.
"About her…" he replied. "A leopard never changes its spots."
"I don't understand," Katharine said.
"You do," he said. "Don't lie to me."
"Did you give this folder to my boss?"
"Maybe. I wanted you to remind yourself of everything that she did to you," he said, seething. "Because she's doing it to her, too."
Katharine felt her heart drop. She always wondered what had happened to her, where she had ended up. It had been something that was always on her mind but Matt never knew about it. She hadn't seen her for so long, that the thought of her still being around was scary.
"How do you know that?" Katharine asked. Part of her hoped that she hadn't continued the abuse, she always thought that people could change, and often believe it. But evidence was stacked against her, and she saw it every single day at work. The empty promises. The see through lies. The fake portrayal of a happy family, when the eyes of the children always showed her the real answer. She had been one of those children who had pretended that everything was okay, that family life was fun and happy, when in reality, the things that happened behind closed doors were nothing near fun. She had spent so much of her childhood wiping up her own blood from the floor in their small apartment, or patching up wounds inflicted upon her by the one person she loved most in the world. She often blamed herself, wondering what she was doing to make her so angry. She was a child, difficult at times but even when she was good, when she made sure the house was clean, she would still get beat.
"I see it every single day," he said, his voice low and full of sadness.
"Who are you to her?" Katharine asked, narrowing her eyes at the darkness.
"I'm not going to tell you. There's no point," he responded.
"What is it that you want me to do?" Katharine asked. "There's only so much I can do through the system. I shouldn't even be handling this. I'm too… involved."
"You can't give this case to anyone else," he replied. "You have to be the one to do this. You have to be the one to make things right."
"And what is it that you want me to do?" Katharine repeated her question.
"I want you to do what you do best," he replied, standing up. "I know who you are. I know what you are. I also know what you're capable of."
"H-how?" Katharine asked, a lump in her throat.
"She talks about you. Quite a lot actually," he began, ignoring her question. "She has this photograph of you, in a broken photo frame. I always tell her to get a new frame but she never does. Tells me that it's fine. It's of you, you're young and smiling. You don't even know the photograph's being taken, and you're happy. Caught in a moment. Frozen in time. You look so much like you. Red hair, blue eyes… she could be your twin."
Katharine redirected her gaze to the floor.
"You didn't know about her?" he asked, to which Katharine shook her head.
"She left one day. I never saw her again," Katharine said. "We don't meet up for coffee or anything."
"What happened to you?" he asked.
Katharine snorted, and bit her lip. "I went into a foster home. Beaten up every single day. The usual."
"Is that why you went into social work?"
"Some. I was fostered by families much worse than my own. I don't want that to happen to any other child," Katharine said, bitterly. "Who are you to her?"
The man sighed.
"You have to tell me," Katharine said. "I know that you're too involved to do anything."
"I'm her husband," he said. "I'm the father of the little girl I want you to protect."
"Protect in what way?" Katharine asked.
"I saw you on the news earlier," he replied. "I recognised you. I know that you can help. I know that you will."
"Well, you thought wrong. I'm not going to do anything. I'm going to give this case back to my boss, and he's going to refer it onto someone else. My colleagues are good, they'll help."
"No!" he said, stepping forward into the light. It was then that she saw him. He was a lot taller than she was, with greyish brown hair and sad eyes. A bust lip was the one thing that stuck out to her.
"She do that?" Katharine asked, already knowing the answer.
"She was drunk," he said.
"And you left your daughter with her?" Katharine asked.
"Your father left you with her," he responded. He winced, realising what he had said. "I'm sorry. That came out wrong."
Katharine moved away from him, and into the small bathroom to the left of the bedroom. He watched as she walked away from him before she disappeared into the bathroom. She came back out as quickly as she had disappeared, carrying a first aid kit. She threw the kit towards him, and he caught it.
"You can always leave," Katharine said. "Just you and your daughter."
"She'll report it to the police and I'll be a wanted man. The police will hunt me down, and I'll be thrown in jail and my daughter will be left in her care. I can't let that happen," he said sadly. "I want you to stop her."
"Stop her how?" Katharine asked.
"Scare her. Tell her that you know of the abuse," he offered. "Tell her that if she does it again, you'll know. And that it will be the end… of her."
"Can I think about it?"
"Sure," he said, smiling. "I have this… to hopefully make you decide quicker."
He lifted up a bag from where he had sat, and carried it over towards the dining table where he placed alongside her own. He unzipped the bag slowly, revealing what was inside. Katharine, her eyes wide, took a step backwards.
"A million dollars," he said. "Enough for you to live comfortably. This isn't about me, her or you. This is about my daughter, Ella."
They fell into silence for a moment, as Katharine kept her eyes on the bag of money that sat on her table. This was serious. He was serious. He knew about her, and about what she did. There was no way around the fact that he knew everything that she had done, the things she had done growing up. He had obviously researched her and realised that it had been her.
"Do it for her," he continued.
"Okay," Katharine whispered. "I'll do it, but I don't want the money."