Reveal to him that I am his son

“He didn't really do much--” I say, but he interjects with the obvious.

“On the contrary, I believe I saw that cop put a hand underneath your shirt. And correct me if I'm wrong, I do not recall Elena providing you any underwear,” he adds.

I give a subtle nod, finding my range of motion limited by the soreness. “Okay, he did a lot, but thankfully, you were there to kick him out.”

“I'm sure Elena will have a word with him at the station,” he mentions and looks down on his wrist and my hand still clutched around it. “Are you sure you're okay? I know you spent the last three years trapped in that place. And you probably have a lot of trauma from the whole time you were there. I just want to make sure you're alright while under my care while Detective Elena is gone.”

“I'm actually more than okay. I have something to tell you, actually” I say.

He doesn't move his hand away and doesn't really seem to mind my hand upon his wrist. He also has an eagerly curious expression on his face. “You have something to tell me? I can be a good listener if you want to vent any of your troubles or your frustrations,” he says.

“I don't want to vent right now. I just have some important information to tell you,” I continue.

“Oh yeah, and what's that, Miss...?” he asks, adding a request to know my name.

“Devon.”

“Oh, you have the same name as my son?”

“Your son went missing three years ago, right?” I ask, knowing that no one had told me such information.

Slowly, he continues, “That's right. How did you know that?” he asks in return, looking very confused.

“I have the same name as your son, yes, because of a very crucial reason,” I explain, letting a pause linger before I saying anything else. “This is because I am your son.”

There is a slight pause, as if he is computing the answer I've given him in his head. Suddenly, he stands up, pulling his wrist away from my grasp. He is looking away from me, his gaze towards the wall or maybe towards an imaginary distance beyond it. Without any warning, he leaves the room. I am left there still with no reasonable way to move. My body is still sore and if an effort is put towards getting out of bed, I'd surely fall flat on my face, injuring nothing but my ego. Did I blow it, my reveal to my father? Did I say too little or too much?

I sob myself to sleep and awaken a few hours later. By now, I have regained some energy, enough to move about slowly. There is still some soreness, but it's manageable. I leave the bedroom and sneak myself downstairs. Judging by the silence in the house, I guess that no one is home, not even my father. I go so far as to explore every room in the house, even all the closets and the garage as well. There is no one in the house but me. From what I find in my exploration, I discover that only the master bedroom is fully furnished and the only room in the house that seems lived in. There are signs that my father has been sleeping on the couch downstairs, but as for all of the other rooms, they seem to be set up for guests. The closets of those rooms are mainly empty, except for one, which is in my old room. There are several unmarked boxes stacked in no particular order. I'd probably find my old life there.

I return to the master bedroom with food in hand. As I munch on what is essentially finger food, I explore the room in more detail. I find no pictures of my mom and my father. I keep in mind a question I would ask him the next time it was appropriate. I only find a photo hidden from sight in a drawer of my father and a teenage version of my male self. From what I could tell, there is no picture of my father and Elena together and there aren't even any of her clothes in the closet or in any of the drawers. When she said he was her partner, did she mean it maritally? Or was it strictly a business relationship? After I've essentially eaten my lunch, I go back to bed, still feeling effects of fatigue.

I sleep until it gets dark and that's when I hear sounds in the house. Since the soreness about my body is less than it was in the morning, I get out of bed and head downstairs. I hear the familiar voices of Elena and my father and when they detect my entrance, Elena gets to her feet and meets me, embracing me in a hug. “How are you doing?” she asks.

“Better,” I say.

“Well, we were just having dinner. I hope you like Chinese,” Elena mentions and guides me to the kitchen table where there are containers littering the table. “Have a seat. Let me get you a plate.” I take a seat right across my father, who gives me a small smile but doesn't direct his gaze wholly on me. I wonder if he mentioned what happened earlier to Elena. Did he reveal what I revealed to him? “So, Officer Carlisle will be suspended following his act earlier. I'm sorry that you had to go through that. Are you alright?”

“I'm fine, actually. He came to my rescue,” I say, motioning to my father.

“It was nothing, actually. I was glad I was nearby and able to help,” he says, mostly gazing at Elena.

“He surely deserves an award,” she adds, plating food onto a plate as she explains. “Oh, I think I've neglected to explain things. But first let me introduce you to Mr. Garcia. He's the owner of this house and when I mentioned that he is my partner, the relationship is strictly business. I was the detective assigned to his son's disappearance case.”

I don't comment on the case and neither do I ask an explanation of it. Just from the silence, I believe that my father has kept secret of my reveal to him from Elena. If he didn't, then the detective wouldn't be tight-lipped about details of the case. As far as Elena is concerned, there seems to be no break in the case and the disappearance is still a disappearance. Once I'm presented a plate of food, I immediately begin eating, keeping in mind as I do so, I catch my father glancing across the table to me. I try to ignore it for the most part, savoring the flavors in my mouth.

Elena steps out of the room as I began to eat, only coming back once I've devoured the last of the fried calamari on my plate.

“I went back to my apartment and gathered some clothes that I'm not using. When you're done eating, you can try some of them on,” Elena says, rolling in a small suitcase.

“Thank you,” I say, smiling. I continue eating as Elena gets a phone call, which she promptly answers while heading to a different room. My father gets up and pulls a soda from the fridge, opens it and places it in front of me. I show my gratitude with a smile and a look towards him. He smiles back, though weakly, and decides to wander into the living room. Whether he'd like to talk or not, I believe he wouldn't do it while Elena's in the house.

I finish my dinner and down the soda and take the suitcase into the downstairs bathroom. I open it, finding a collection of clothes. Hopefully they'll fit my body as Elena has a similar body type to me. I take off the shirt, which is probably my father's, and see myself in the nude in the mirror. While there are bruises in certain parts of my body, I'd say I'm in good health. I might be on the skinny side, since I wasn't fed much while in captivity. At least I do not have any missing limbs or huge scars anywhere.

Before putting on any of the garments, I sort out what is contained in the suitcase, stacking them on the counter, from panties, to bras, to tops and bottoms. I find that there are a couple pairs of flat sandals as well as I single pair of ankle-length sneakers left in the suitcase once I've taken all the other garments out. From what I've seen as I was organizing, I decide to wear...