Five: A Dark, Criminal Past

 NOTE: I know I stated that I wasn't going to post warnings at the beginning of chapters, however  I felt as if I should warn you, triggersome/dark content is ahead.

   "Good coffee."
   "Really?" He asked, speaking quietly, as I forced a smile onto my face, nodding. "It's burnt; you don't have to drink it."
   "Isn't it aspirin, burnt coffee, and toast that cure a hangover?" I bit my lip, staring past him, him being Officer Carlisle- Oliver, as he insisted I call him, since technically he was off duty. I pulled at them hem of the men's dress shirt, a dark gray, scratchy, cheaply made cotton blend he had lent me, since my dress was torn and reeked of cheap booze and vomit. After I'd managed to wipe off most of last night's makeup, kicked off my ridiculous pumps, and swallowed a quarter of a bottle of aspirin, I decided that, even if I didn't look better, I felt slightly better, knowing that I didn't look like a walk of shame victim.
   "How much did you drink?"
   "I don't remember..."  I paused, gulping down another sip of coffee. "What happened last night?"

   "I," He paused, his brow furrowed. "Do you remember anything?"
   "Got hammered, drove here looking for my ex; that's it... And Arthur Langley. Who's he?" Shock crossed his face, as inhaled sharply.
   "Ms. Mumsy-" I rolled my eyes; despite my adamant insistence that there was no need for formalities, he kept addressing me like my Sandi and Quinn addressed my mother, it was ridiculous.
   "Please, call me Lavender. You've seen me covered in my own stomach contents; I don't think you have to worry about being proper anymore."
   "True." He blushed slightly, then continued. "Lavender, you came over last night, banging on my door late, I don't remember what time, maybe four am? I opened it and you demanded that I kiss you-"
   "Hell... We didn't, we didn't sleep together, did we?"
   "No! I'd never take advantage of a woman who was obviously intoxicated or even slightly unaware of their situation. You were slurring your words, could barely talk, then you started crying, you stumbled forwards, into my apartment and tripped. I helped you up, gave you tissues, then you stared at me for five minutes, as I tried to ask you questions."
   "Did you get any answers?"
   "Not really. You kept asking for a second chance, saying how you thought that the relationship wasn't good, that you didn't feel any spark, but now you just wanted something familiar. I told you my name, showed you my badge, then you threw your phone at me and demanded that the goddamn cop tell you were your parents were, because I caused this mess. You told me to go to hell, a few other things, then demanded to know more about your parents."
   "I... You told me, about my parents? My biological ones?" He nodded, as I glanced away. Arthur Langley... Elaine Chiffon. I didn't want to know, I was tired of this, it hadn't been that long since death, but the media hadn't left me alone since; I wanted to go back to how things were, have my mundane life were no cared what I thought about police investigations. "Arthur?"
   "Arthur Langley." He confirmed. "Do you want to see a picture?" I nodded, as he turned on the television. A picture of an elderly man, his hair white, dressed in orange appeared, as a pretty, blonde woman began to ramble on about a potential Lifetime film.

   "The daughter of Elaine Chiffon, the Elkins suicide woman, and Arthur Langley, the subject of the high profile murder-slash-rape case from a few years ago has yet to comment."
   "Wait, murder?! Rape?! What the fu-" He clicked off the television, as I stared at him. My father was a murder? A rapist? He... He looked so average, he had such an average name.
   "I'm sorry, I... Tissue?" He handed me a Kleenex as I began sniffling, tears slowly creeping from the corner of my eyes. My mother ran away, hid herself away in West Virgina, abandoned me, because the man I was forced to call my biological father was a horrid, horrid-?! I... Had he raped her? Was I the product of rape... A rape baby? I, I didn't, I couldn't, there, what was I supposed to feel? Hatred? I despised that man.
   "Did he- did he?" I couldn't say it, I could think it, but couldn't say it to the officer, who was staring at me with pity.
   "To Ms. Chiffon? I'm sorry, he... I'm sorry."
   "Is that why she ran?"
   "She... We believe that she was the first victim, she reported it, after it happened, things were different, twenty-three years ago, your mother... He went to jail for assault, in your mother's letters, she confessed to running after it was announced that he would be released early for good behavior, you would have been almost three... After he was released, he... He tormented other women."
   "Tormented? He... DO I have siblings?"
   "Not-" He paused. "This is a lot to take in, are you alright? Are you sure you don't-"
   "Tell me!" I demanded. This was my F'd up family tree, I deserved to know. I wanted that son of a bitch to die and rot in hell, he hurt my mother, he hurt other women, I could have half siblings running around, confused, angry, I needed to know. I didn't want to know, but I'd found out; it was too late to pretend that these people didn't exist.
   "Not living."
   "Not livi- Did he?" My face was wet, hot with tears.
   "Lavender, this is stressful-"
   "Shut up and tell me!" I screamed, taking out my anger, my frustration, my confusion out on him. He looked frightened, so I hastily apologized, as he assured me that it was fine; I had had a bomb dropped on me, I didn't need to worry about being polite.
   "He raped thirteen other women that we know of; we're estimating that it's many more, they just didn't report it." I shuttered, as he continued. "Four of them ended up pregnant, out of those four, two kept the child."
   "Did he... Did he hurt the children?"
   "He murdered-" He paused, biting his lip. "Are you sure you want to be told this straight? Lavender... I, you're, this... Are you sure?" I nodded, as he kept asking me if I was alright, kept asking, do I want coffee, how do I feel, before continuing. "The two women who didn't keep the fetuses; at his trial he said it was punishment for them rejecting him, then... In the hospital, he suffocated the one female and the baby, the other he kidnapped and... This is brutal; graphic." I said nothing. "The other woman, she was eight months pregnant, he... Raped her repetitively, she went into labor in his basement... No survivors. I'm sorry. We found him shortly after, he... Death penalty, a few years ago."
   "Oliver..." The whispered slipped fast my lips, like the teardrops, small, staining my cheeks, slipped from the corner of my eyes. He stood up, cautiously, sitting next to me, as I leaned against him, silently, as he wiped away the tears, the tears the brutality of my father's dark, criminal past provoked.

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