Tommy lay on his bed watching the fan dancing shadows across the ceiling. The gentle thump of the blades so familiar.
Today was his birthday, he was 30 years old. He stared at the fan and remembered back to another birthday when he had been 16.
He was 16 when he finally learnt the secret of his existence. Ever since his father had walked out on his eighth birthday, he had known he needed the truth.
His father had shouted as he slammed the door, that he could no longer live with the family secret.
From the age of five, Tommy had known he was adopted. His mum and dad explained that he was very special as they had picked him. They chose him out of the hundreds of babies they could have chosen.
On this day 14 years ago, he had heard his mum moving around downstairs. Taking one final look at the fan he swung his legs over the bed and went to join her for breakfast.
“You okay?” she asked, as soon as she saw him.
“Think so. I wonder whether it will all be the same when I know.” He replied.
“I’m always going to be your mum, Tommy. Regardless of what you find out today.”
“I know Mum, I love you. I’m nervous that’s all.”
“You don’t have to go through with it if you don’t want to, you could always leave it for a few more years.”
“Mum I have to know, you know that.”
“Best go get dressed then.” She smiled as she said this, the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.
Two hours later, Tommy was sat beside his mum in his best clothes. They drove in silence, both of them stuck in their thoughts. The building his mum stopped at looked like a normal community centre.
“You go on your own from here,” she said. “Up the stairs, second room on the right, he will be waiting for you. I will be out here when you have finished.”
Tommy walked up the stairs, glancing back once, to wave at his mum. She looked sad and for the hundredth time today he wondered if he was doing the right thing. He pushed open the door and walked up the faded carpet. The second door on the right was dark wood with a cheap metal handle. Tommy was determined to remember the details. The details of the door that led to the rest of his life. Taking a deep breath he knocked and walked in.
Seated at the table in the centre of the room was an elderly man. He had white hair and lines around his eyes. He looked up in fear, which seemed to dissolve when he saw Tommy. He rested his hands on a large leather journal in front of him.
“Welcome Tommy, please sit down.” His voice was almost as frail as his face.
Tommy sat down, wincing at the noise the chair made on the concrete floor.
“Tommy Morris born 16/01/1989.”
Tommy nodded. The old man ran his finger down the book and stopped when he found what he was looking for.
“Your mother’s name was Andrea Yates, she was executed ten years ago.”
Tommy stared at the doctor, he must have heard that wrong.
”Yes, your mother was a serial killer. You were removed at birth and placed into the system for adoption.”
Tommy swallowed, so all these feelings inside him were natural. His genetics had made him a killer, it was all perfectly natural.
Laying on the bed, on his 30th birthday he knew his legacy had come true. He had equalled his mothers killing total a while ago. He smiled to himself and swung his legs down. Time to increase his tally. He would teach that receptionist, for the sly way she had booked him in.