Chapter 52 The finger
VICTORIA
I staggered back, my jaw dropped as the words rang in my head.
“Mom's… mom's finger?” I gasped out, my eyes wide in horror and my heart shrinking at every beat.
Father slowly raised his head from the phone in front of him and rubbed his forehead, sighing loudly.
“That bastard! I wish I had killed him when I had the chance!” Father whispered, and my heart shrank even more.
“You knew who he was?" I asked in a quivering voice.
My father sighed again and slumped down into the chair, his face covered in his palm.
“If you knew about this, then why did you keep silent? Why didn't you fight for justice?" My voice rose as each word slipped out.
He refused to speak. Instead, he covered his face with his palm.
Anger coursed through me, and a deep frown spread across my face.
I clenched my fist and marched forward, filled with rage.
I slammed my fist on the table and leaned forward, but he barely moved.
“I won't be a coward!" I spat, and he stirred but still didn't raise his eyes to meet mine. I guess he was drowning in guilt and didn't want me to see it.
“I will hunt that man down and make him pay for killing my mom and using her finger as a souvenir! He won't go scot-free, not under my watch!" I growled, grabbed my phone, and spun around the door.
I grabbed the doorknob and jerked it open, then marched out of the house without hesitation.
Tears streamed down my face as I rushed out of the Villa and flagged down a cab.
I gave the driver the CID’s address, then leaned into the headrest and cried my eyes out until the driver stopped in front of the building.
I stopped crying and wiped away the tears on my face, then slowly stepped out of the car.
“Here," I mumbled as I extended the fare towards the driver. He looked at it then at me, worry in his eyes.
“Ma'am, are you okay?" He asked.
My throat knotted, and my lips parted and slammed shut. I wanted to say yes to him, but I couldn't bring myself to lie even though it was obvious that I was dying inside.
“No,” I shook my head.
He sighed in sympathy and reached into the dashboard, then pulled out a pamphlet.
“You should be here, hope you get better after attending," he said.
I straightened up, hesitating for a while, but something in me pushed me to take the pamphlet.
“Take care of yourself and your mental health, ma'am," he said, and before I could get to say another word, he was skidding away into the road.
I sighed and stared at the pamphlet, then folded it and put it in my pants pocket. I turned around and walked into the building, avoiding all the stares the people in the building directed at me.
I felt a heaviness lift off from my body when the elevator stopped and opened in front of our department's floor.
I got out of the elevator and walked to the door, then pushed it open.
All heads turned in my direction when I stepped in, looking like a half-dead person.
Roseanne gasped and got up, rushing towards me with alarm scribbled across her face.
“Victoria! Why are you looking like this?" She gasped and extended her hand towards me, but didn't touch me. I was sure that I looked horrible.
“Aren't you supposed to be back home?" Mr Thompson asked from where he sat.
I tried to hold it in, but I couldn't. My father's words kept ringing in my head, the finger in the glass kept flashing before my eyes, and my mother's ghostly face haunted my mind.
I broke down. I broke down before them and dropped to the ground, my fist clenched and tears running down my face.
As I sat there, with my head dropped in despair, I had chairs move and feet shuffle towards me. This was definitely more than I could take on alone.
“Victoria, what's going on?" Mr Thompson squatted before me as he inquired.
I gulped hard, and my silence grew to a soft muffle. My heart clenched so tight that I could hardly breathe, and my belly churned whenever I remembered what had been done to me.
I never thought something like that would someday affect me. I never knew the killer I was after would turn out to be my nightmare. My mother's worst nightmare.
“Victoria, you should be back home sleeping or doing anything. What exactly happened?” Kevin asked, and I shook my head, finding it difficult to say a word.
“Did something happen to your dad?" Mr Thompson asked.
I slowly raised my head and stared at him, tears almost messing up my vision.
“No, this is not about my dad," I whispered in a shaking voice, and my colleagues breathed out in relief.
“Then what is it about?" Kelvin asked.
My breath hitched, and I looked up at Mr Thompson, my stomach churning.
“You're right," I whispered.
They exchanged glances with each other while Mr Thompson's eyes darkened.
“What are you talking about?" He asked, his voice deep and demanding.
“I just found who the real killer is," I muttered and slowly staggered up to my feet.
Mr Thompson studied me with his eyes, his head tilted to the side.
“Are you sure you shouldn't be in a hospital right now? You sound sick," he muttered.
I scoffed loudly and threw my head back, my lips stretching into a smile.
“Sick?!" I gasped and lowered my head to meet his eyes.
“No, Mr Thompson…” I paused and hit my head, "I am completely alright, and I'll stop at nothing until I hunt that bastard down.”
His lips parted and slammed shut, eyes dimming.
“Who are you talking about?" Kevin asked.
I sighed and ruffled my messy hair, cursing loudly.
“Where is the chopped finger? I need to take it back to its rightful owner," I muttered.
I was drowned in so much despair that I didn't know what I was saying anymore.
Mr Thompson looked at my stunned colleagues, then back at me.
“Victoria, what are you saying?” He asked and began to step closer, but I staggered back.
“Give me the finger!" I growled.
They all jumped back, staring at me like I was crazy.
“Boss, are you sure she has her senses with her?" Sam muttered in fear.
Mr Thompson's fist clenched, and he rushed towards me, then gripped my arm and forced me to stare into his burning eyes.
“You'd better leave this place, or I'll have you thrown into an asylum!" He threatened, but I didn't back down.
“I need the finger," I whispered more calmly now.
"It doesn't belong to you!” He growled out, and my heart clenched.
“It belongs to my mother!" I growled, and he froze.
"What?” He mumbled, his jaw dropped in shock.
I leaned closer, my teeth chattering in pain and rage.
“That finger is my mother's finger," I whispered, and before he could respond, darkness hit me down to the ground.