It’s not very often my dad leaves home. Well, I guess it’s rare enough to see his lazy depressed ass off the couch. I guess I’m just used to living like this.

My dad’s never really told me why he’s the way he is. Though, it’s kinda expected after my mum left a few months after I was born.

But I’m not going to waste my chance.

I’ve had my eye on the locked attic for a while now. Dad only goes in there around once a year, but I have a strange feel that there something important. Something mysterious.

I shoot up the stairs to the peeling, wooden door. It’s locked, but I have a few ideas where the key could be. I make my way to the bedroom, the silver door knob glistening in front of me. After entering, I being to search through his piles upon piles of old, dirty clothes.

Then I see it, the small golden shine of a tiny key. I stop and stare for a while.

What am I getting myself into?

I erase the thought from my head. I’ve been waiting for this.

I turn the key from side to side.

Then click.

The door opens without force. I am left standing there, a dusty toolbox in an empty room before me.

I take a moment to breathe and lower my expectations. It could just be a regular toolbox with regular tools. But my curiosity has already gotten the best of me.

I walk into the room and place my hands on the lid of the box.

What if there’s a dead rat in there!?

“3, 2, 1”, I whisper to myself lifting the lid slowly.

A series of letters lay in front of me.

The top one is for a woman named Emily.

“My love, I found sweetest baby girl named Helen in need of a home. If someone doesn’t take her, I’m afraid no one will. I know we may be young, but do you think we could at least try?

From Jake”

“What the fuck-?”

My name is Helen.

My dads name is Jake

I keep reading.

“Jake are you insane!? I am way to young to have a child let alone one that’s not mine. My parents are mad enough I’m engaged at 16, but I love you and I wouldn’t want to leave you because of a silly child because then my parents would ridicule me even more.

From Emily”

Woah. Is that my mum?

“Honey please can you think about this. I can’t live thinking we could’ve helped her.

I love you too, Jake”

“Please darling, I can’t discuss this over a letter”

There was an address attached.

23 Pablo Ave

And I own a motorbike.