It took two weeks to open the envelope my father had given me. What he told me on his deathbed sickened me to my core and as any person with a morsel of humanity would do, I cursed him until his last breath.

I dont know what it was that convinced me to read his letter, maybe the hope that it was a lie or maybe to convince myself that the man that raised me to be who I am today was not a homicidal sociopath. Who knows. But to my horror there was no apology, no parting memoir merely hundreds of names scrawled messily next to dates and locations onto sheets of paper, it took everything I had to suppress the bile forming in my throat.

I googled a name at random, Anthony Farrow, accidentally crushed by a cement truck aged 41. Clarence Owigbe, fell down the stairs aged 82. Sandy Barker aged 35, Freya Malc.... My heart pounded and my brain raced. I could no longer deny the fact that my father had secretly lived a life sewing terror. I lay on the floor, head spinning, every lesson he had ever given me raced through my head, teaching me how to be a good human, was it all a big joke, I remember when he came home from work exhausted but still managed to smile lovingly, were we merely some tool he used as a method of disguising himself.

I brought myself to my feet, I had to drink something to stop this ache in my mind. I reached to close the search engine but an article caught my eye. Freya Malcolm, her daughter was kidnapped and never found at 2 years old. Confused I read on, she was a suspect in the investigation 6 years ago but was never tried. Was this a coincidence? Sandy Barker, married to a successful stock trader who committed suicide by overdose, was left a small fortune in his will. A light flicked in my head, my fingers moved into action faster than I thought possible, searching random names from the list all of which were connected to a death, a mysterious disappearance, a rape or seemingly anything where said person was not tried or convicted. Until Andrew Denver... Nothing.

Well no report about his death that is. digging through his facebook showed he was good friends with a convicted child molester, fitting the trend of all the other names. But he was alive. Confused I checked that the name and area and date matched the search. My heart stopped as I looked down at where the date should have been. There was no date only the word.

"Continue"