Chapter 2
618 Words
The next day, having wrapped up my work, I watched the live feed on my phone.
Before this trip, I'd asked Mr. Cooper to upgrade my cameras. The feed was now high-definition, with night vision and audio recording.
On screen, Vincent was walking out of the elevator with Jackson in tow.
Jackson was holding a remote-control off-road vehicle. It had big tires and looked like it had some serious power.
"Go on, champ, play here. The hallway's nice and wide." Vincent patted his son's head and went back to scrolling on his phone.
Jackson excitedly switched it on. The truck let out a whining roar and began careening wildly down the hallway, thudding into the walls.
After a few collisions, the truck veered sharply and headed straight for my front door.
"BAM!"
The truck slammed squarely into my door.
Jackson didn't stop; he got even more excited instead, reversing the truck and ramming it forward again.
Again and again.
Vincent looked up and actually laughed. "Whoa, our boy here drives like a pro! Future race car driver for sure!"
He made no move to stop it. Instead, he raised his own phone to record the scene.
"Champ, look at Daddy! Yeah, hit it again!"
"THUD! THUD! THUD!"
On the monitor, I could clearly see small dents beginning to form on the door's surface.
That door was a custom-made armored solid-wood door that cost me over fifty grand. Now it was getting pummeled by a seven-year-old's toy.
Jackson eventually tired out, and the truck's front bumper broke.
He dropped the remote and started kicking a soccer ball around the hallway.
The ball ricocheted off the walls with loud bangs.
"CRASH!"
Finally, a recessed spotlight took a direct hit. The glass shade shattered, scattering shards everywhere.
Only then did Vincent get up. "Oops, clumsy! Jackson, come back here, you'll cut your feet."
He pulled his son back to their doorway, completely ignored the sea of broken glass, and closed their door.
I scoffed.
Just day one.
The real show was yet to come.
I opened the building's residents' group chat. Sure enough, complaints were already rolling in.
A: [Whose kid is kicking a ball in the hallway? The noise is driving me nuts.]
B: [Yeah, and if you break public property, you pay for it. I definitely heard glass shattering.]
Vincent quickly appeared.
Vincent: [@everyone Sorry, guys! It was my Jackson. Kids are just energetic; it's normal. Please be understanding. We'll fix the light tomorrow—it was an accident.]
The chat went quiet for a few seconds.
Then, someone else chimed in.
C: [It's good for kids to be active, but maybe be more careful next time.]
D: [It's true, Mr. Carter has his hands full raising a kid alone.]
'It seemed that in this world, if you just played the victim card, there'd always be someone doling out sympathy from their moral high ground.'
I closed the group chat and went back to watching the feed.
Night fell, but the camera feed remained crystal clear.
A small figure slipped out of the neighboring apartment.
It was Jackson.
In his pajamas, he was clutching something in his hand.
Under the weak glow of the emergency light, I saw it clearly—a tube of super glue.
He tiptoed to my door and started squeezing glue into the lock.
After filling the keyhole, he smeared a thick layer of glue all over the doorknob.
Mission accomplished, he stuck his tongue out in the camera's general direction and scurried back home.
I set my teacup down and made a note in my phone: 7th lock-tampering incident.
Then, I extended my hotel stay.
If we were playing, we were going all in.
- Writer
