Dark Desire.

A Web of Connections

As soon as Johnson left, I put on my clothes and got ready to leave as well.

I didn't want to follow him or have him drop me off because I knew he was meeting with his neighbor who called him, and at least for now, I wasn't ready to meet anyone new.

Just then, I couldn't see the key to his Jam lock. I stood there alone in Johnson's room.

My eyes landed on Johnson's cupboards. I decided to check there.

I began searching Johnson's cupboards, scouring every shelf for the missing key. My fingers brushed against his clothes, the fabric soft and intimate. I felt a pang of guilt, invading his personal space.

As I searched, my mind wandered. What's the interview Johnson had just left for about?

I pushed aside my thoughts and focused on finding the key.

As I dug deeper into the cupboard, a pack of condoms caught my eye. I frowned, confusion swirling in my mind. Why had Johnson stopped midway through our romantic encounter last night? Had he realized he wasn't protected? Or was it a pity that stayed his hand? The thought sent a shiver down my spine. I hadn't considered protection in the heat of the moment, and Johnson's sudden halt had left me bewildered.

"Well, he is an adult, we just met, I have no right to his private life" I used those words to console myself

My gaze drifted further, and my heart skipped a beat. A lady's s*x toy lay nestled among the clothes. Intimate. Personal. My thoughts raced. Whose was it? A lover's? An ex? Johnson's? The possibility of him using it on someone else made my stomach churn. I felt a pang of unease, my mind replaying our whirlwind encounter.

We hadn't defined what we had. Our connection was whirlwind-fast. I'd let my guard down, swept up in the intensity of the moment. Now, doubts crept in. What was Johnson's true nature? What secrets lay hidden? I needed answers. With Johnson absent, I had the perfect opportunity to uncover the truth.

I rummaged through the cupboard, each revelation raising more questions. What had I gotten myself into? Was Johnson a player? A manipulator? Or something more sinister? My hands trembled as I searched. A hidden compartment caught my eye. I hesitated, then opened it.

It was a compartment for arts. But none of these parts were unfinished work. They were all works of art that have been completed, and paintings that are so amazing. I looked around the room again to see if I could make connections between what Johnson had told me he does for a living and what I see before me. There are artworks in his place, but it was more of him loving the artwork to make a living out of it.

Just then, a separate file caught my attention. It was a blue transparent file. I wasn't seeing the writings on the paper inside the file. But, it was an old Newspaper clipping; the piece of paper had been cut from the newspaper obviously for that article. People often save clippings to keep track of news stories, events, or information they want to remember or reference later.

"Barrister Robert wins exceptional case...". My heart beat grew high. Barrister Robert?, my biological father. What has Johnson to do with my biological father? I had to read the article to be sure of which Barrister Robert the article referred to since no individual picture was there; it was the Statue of Justice that was used.

The very fact that the statue was used as the image in this article signals that it is a case carried out for justice to better the human experience.

But I still wanted to read the article, that bears that heading to be sure which Barrister Robert is referred to here.

It was truly Dad and the exceptional case that brought him to limelight, the case of a r****t who r***d a 15 years old girl. This case lingered for a year, as the suspect kept proving he isn't guilty while the citizen, wanted and cried that the perpetrator of such an act should be made to face the law.

It was a challenging moment for the law firm and the Police force.

Now my curiosity hiked, I checked further, the other contents of the file.

"Richard Wilson shoots himself, before his young son and wife who is pregnant". The case of Richard Wilson being sentenced to life imprisonment, is a story well known to citizens the of ,USA especially those residing in Washington d.c.

People believe Richard Willaims killed himself for sympathy. That was in the day of visiting. As he was with his people conversing, no one knows what led him to struggle with the gun a police officer was holding and then shot himself.

But I still was unable to comprehend why these clippings were in Johson's file and cupboard.

That was 15 years ago, and that case was what skyrocketed my Dad's upliftment to a Magistrate.

A small, leather-bound book lay inside, after the transparent blue file.

"Blue Journal". That was the inscription.

The journal's entries were sporadic, with dates and times scribbled in the margins. Some pages were torn, others blacked out. I sensed desperation in the scribbled words. A desperation that made my skin crawl. Who really is this man I spent my night with?

As I delved deeper into the journal, a name caught my eye. Richard Wilson. The same name from the newspaper clippings. My mind reeled. Connections began to form, but the picture remained murky. Johnson's involvement with my father's case? The r**e victim? The pieces refused to fit.

I turned the pages, searching for more clues. A newspaper clipping slipped out, yellowed with age. "Magistrate Richard dies in car accident." My heart sank. Another connection to my father's past. Another mystery.

Johnson's secrets surrounded me, suffocating me. I needed air. Or could it be that he is a journalist?

I stepped back, my eyes scanning the room. What else lay hidden? What other secrets waited to be uncovered? The silence seemed oppressive, heavy with unspoken truths.

Suddenly, I heard footsteps outside. Johnson. Returning.

Panic set in.

I hastily returned the journal and clipping to their hiding place. My heart racing, I smoothed out the clothes, erasing any signs of my search.

The door opened.

Johnson stood in the doorway, his eyes narrowing.

"Emily?" he asked, his voice low.

I forced a smile, ehmm, " Where is the key"

"Hey," I replied, trying to sound casual.

Johnson's gaze lingered, searching.

For what?

Did he suspect?

Just then he answered, " That's why I had to rush back", he said as he brought it out from his pocket "Are you done?"

Of course, I am done. " Yes, l have to be home earlier before now".

"Close it when you are out"

No no, wait I responded. "I am leaving now". At this point, I wanted to leave immidiadiately, so I picked up my bag and moved towards the door, as I approached where he stood, I said with a smile " Thanks for the hospitality