Deadly Silence (complete) Chapter 149

“I didn’t say that. There are ways other than violence to get someone to talk. Jesus Christ,” Jacques retorted, clearly annoyed at the conclusion his father had jumped to. “Like, I don’t know, be her friend? Get some kind of bond or something going with her? Be nice? Try *asking* what she’s willing to talk about?”

“She hasn’t told her friends anything more than she’s told her family,” Gilbert explained, his tone now lacking the promise of violence. “None of this is part of your responsibilities, which is why you aren’t privy to the information I’ve gathered, nor do you understand the young miss.”

*Gilbert doesn’t seem to like his son very much*, Vivian noted, wondering how Jacques felt about that. They’d only known about each other for five years but, even so, they were family. She’d barely gotten to know her own, and yet felt a sort of kinship with them after barely two months. *No, that’s… not the same. I’ve always known they existed so, in my head, I’ve always had them. I’m guessing that’s not what happened with these two.*

“I don’t think you understand her, either,” Jacques replied, sounding almost nonchalant about it.

“I never said I did.”

“Then why are you so quick to tell me I don’t understand, when you don’t either? You can’t say I’m wrong when you don’t even know if you’re right, can you?”

“Why are you still here, Jacques? Go home.”

His son let out a laugh. “Yeah, thought so. Think about it, old man, and you’ll realize I’m not wrong. You’ve been at this for fifteen years, and you’re stuck. Maybe it’s time to get a fresh perspective on the matter.”

“Go home, Jacques,” Gilbert repeated, this time making it an order.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m going. But… I think you’re underestimating her. By a lot.”

Vivian heard the front door close, then silence followed. There wouldn’t be anything worth listening to now, as she doubted Gilbert was the type to talk to himself. Still, she left the door open just a crack.

Hugging her legs close to her chest, Vivian rested her head on her knees and closed her eyes. *Why does Jacques think they’re underestimating me?* She wondered. *Maybe he’s just overestimating me.*

Her thoughts kept her occupied until sleep finally took hold, drawing her into dream after dream. After a particularly bad one, Vivian jerked awake, sitting up so fast she nearly fell off the couch.

*Couch?* As she tried to regain control of her breathing, Vivian realized she’d somehow gotten moved to the couch. How was everyone moving her around while she slept, without waking her up? She’d never thought she was a particularly heavy sleeper, and yet this was the third or fourth time it’d happened.

Breathing now under control, Vivian looked over at the kitchen table, and found Gilbert watching her from the same chair he’d been using earlier. It looked like he’d been working this entire time, his laptop still open in front of him, phone to the side.

There was no question about it; he’d been the one who moved her to the couch. That meant he’d seen where she’d made her little nest, and how the door had been ajar. Vivian averted her gaze, rubbing her hands over her face, as she tried to shake the remnants of the dream from her system. What she’d dreamt she couldn’t recall, just that it hadn’t been good.

She heard Gilbert move his chair and walk towards her, but was startled to find he’d brought the chair with him. As he settled back onto it, so he sat facing her with only a few feet separating them, Vivian waited to see what he wanted.

For a minute, he watched her in silence, and she did the same to him. Whatever he wanted to talk about seemed to be weighing on his mind, enough to deserve some serious thought before starting the conversation.

At the second minute mark, Vivian was sure he wouldn’t be breaking the silence any time soon, so she decided to do it for him; it would speed things up. “You don’t like your son very much, do you?” She asked.

“What makes you say that?” He replied almost immediately, showing no outward sign that the question bothered him.

“The way you talk to him.”

Gilbert gave a slow nod. “I have… no feelings towards him, one way or another.”

“Then why do you treat him like he’s… I don’t know… beneath you?”

“Because he is.”

Vivian stared at him for a moment, then shook her head. “I don’t think…” She let out a sigh. “Beneath you how?”

“He’s a runner. I am … My position in your father’s business would be close to that of a director. Jacques would be… an errand boy.”

“Oh.” *So he sees his relationship with his son as… part of his job? That’s… a bit sad. And why would a director be my bodyguard?* “Okay, but what about outside of work?”

“What about ‘outside of work’?”

“…well… do you ever hang out? Like father and son?”

“No.”

“…why not?”

“Because I’m not his dad.”

His answer made Vivian wonder if Gilbert had some quirk that didn’t allow him to understand things like everyone else. Was he incapable of bonding with another person or something? But then, why would he be so loyal to her father? “You didn’t correct him when he said you were his father.”

“I am his father. I am not his dad.”

*Oh… Oh. I get it now.* “Huh. That… explains a lot.”

Now it was his turn to frown. “You don’t need me to explain?”

“No. I get it. I’m guessing the guy who raised him is his dad? Just because you… uh… had a part in… making him… doesn’t mean you’re his dad. It’s not a new concept after being a foster kid. Blood doesn’t always mean anything.”

“Yes,” he nodded.

“So, why are you here?”

“I live here, Miss Vivian.”

She rolled her eyes. “I mean, why did you drag a chair over and sit down. Just say what you want to say.” She was tired, it was still dark outside, and there was nothing to do in this apartment other than sleep; the guy didn’t even own a television. Since she had no interest in trying to go back to sleep just yet, it felt like the right time to get Gilbert to talk about whatever was on his mind.

Another lengthy silence made Vivian worry he’d never get around to whatever he wanted to say. Maybe she *should* try and get some more sleep.

“Miss Vivian… What are you willing to tell me about your childhood?”