178: Can't Destroy Good -Andrew-

It was like the door exploded. Rays of light flooded the room and the only sound was the glass of the museum windows shattering. This was not the plan. Patrick had not told me about this at all. The light washed everything away and stung my eyes. I squeezed them shut to avoid the pain.

When I opened my eyes I was in a dark, stone room, with a single window high on the wall. Light shone on through it, leaving a bright rectangle on the stone floor. There was no door and the corners of the room were shrouded in darkness.

"I want some cake, Daddy. Not until you eat all your veggies, you scoundrel. Dear, don't call her a scoundrel, you'll give her a complex." A voice from the darkness came. Weakness laced with age could be heard in every syllable.

I stood up and pressed myself against the wall. What was this place?

"Hello? Who's there?", I squinted into the darkness.

"Oh, you've come back. Daddy, does that mean we can leave now? Honey, he might be dangerous. Stay away and let your dad take care of it. Steph, make sure she stays back, you should too. He could be dangerous."

It was me that stepped from the shadows. I looked thin and hungry. For some reason, seeing me standing there filled me with a fear I'd never felt. Something about that other me seeped into my soul, infecting it with dread. I didn't wait for anything to be said, I just ran for the window. The closer I got, the farther away it was.

"It looks like you, Daddy. It is me, honey. I don't like this, Andrew. Stephanie, it will be fine, trust me. Does this mean no more cake? Why are you here? Why would you return after such a long time? After you banished me here, there was no reason to come back."

I turned to face myself and I instantly knew where I was. Panic filled me as I stared into the part of me I'd gotten rid of many years ago. The thin and starved person in front of me was everything that'd kept me from breaking during the torture. It was everything that tore me apart when I thought about it. A solid reminder of what I'd done.

Standing in front of me, was my heart.

I wonder if it's mad?