Thirty-Eight:
Oliver Oswin
My mother didn’t live in our house most of the time. She kept her apartment in the city, so she could be closer to Oswin Inc. Her work was her life. We were accessories, something she could trot out like a magic trick whenever she needed. Now that I knew the truth about who my mother was, I knew why. We weren’t her children. We were something that she could use against Richard, to hold over his head.
I took my motorcycle to her apartment. Maybe it wasn’t good to confront her when I was angry. But I couldn’t help myself. I needed answers, and I needed them now. She had used me, my sister, and Piper. I hated her. I would have done anything I could to get my hands on her and kill her. Patrick Bateman style, running after her with a chainsaw.
