Freedom-At what price?
Shilo walked out of the theatre utterly stunned by the death of her father. She'd gone from fear, to anger to grief all in the same night. Shock. She had heard her father talk about shock before. The world was a cruel place, at the very least he was right about that. He had been keeping her sick. She hated him, no she loved him. This was complicated. Before she knew it, she had stopped in front of the Victorian home she used to share with her father. Numbly, she entered, picked up his gray sweater he was wearing when last she saw him in the house. It had been a Christmas gift from her mother to him, several years ago, before she was born. She hugged the sweater to her chest. Her father the doctor. Her father the Repo Man, employed by Gene Co.
Repo Man? He was as repo man, that didn't even make sense, she shook her head in denial. She never really knew her father, no not really. Is that where he went nights while she was sleeping? Her head swam. She wordlessly went upstairs to the bathroom to clean up. She returned to her bureau and redressed. She left the wig on the bust. Her hair should grow back in now. Being bald was the least of her worries.
She needed air, she needed time to think. She most certainly wanted nothing now to do with the company that played such a huge role in the death of her father. It was a cutthroat company. She had been tricked by Rotti Largo. Yes, she had her freedom, but at what price? If she had her way, she'd see all of his spawn pay. What a horrible way of life. Giving to the poor, only to take back again. It was cruel. She could build a rival company, should do it in fact.
All of a sudden, she missed her father. It came at once in a big, strong wave. She wasn't a little girl anymore, yet she was. Never having experienced the things girls of her own age experienced, she had no way to cope. She sank into a chair next to the fireplace. There were so many memories. Hugging the sweater close to her chest, she cried. She cried until there were no tears left for today. Maybe tomorrow, but for now, her mourning was complete.
Walking to the kitchen, she poured herself a glass of water and downed it. She donned the gray sweater and her messenger bag and walked outside, posture erect, arms crossed against the chill of night.
"Psst. Hey kid, take this." It was that grave robber from the other night. He came closer and pressed a metal key into her hand, and a slip of paper with an address. "The key to somewhere safe. You need to decompress, somewhere with no memories."
She had no way of knowing, but this was his long-dead mother's address. A few of the apartments had been abandoned, but was in better shape than even he would have guessed. He had engaged a housekeeper, and paid her with his earnings. He himself preferred not to live there. He would check up on her later.
Shilo walked to the street and hailed a cab. When the driver stopped she read the address off the piece of paper and sped though the night to a place unknown.