Page 49 of Written with You (The Regret Duet 2)
Shit happened in our community. People were idiots, using the little money they did have to buy drugs or booze. I could have listed at least a dozen other people who had met their untimely demise over the last ten years.
But none of that would explain why my father had a Polaroid of each and every one of their dead bodies.
Derrick facedown on his porch.
Sara’s limbs bent at stomach-revolting angles.
Travis underwater, his dead eyes wide open.
And those were just the people or places I’d recognized in the stack of photos.
No one should have had pictures of that shit. Derrick had been found by his mother, Sara by the police, and Travis by his son.
No one should have had pictures of those people. Especially not beneath the linoleum in their closet, literal skeletons hidden from the world.
But my father did.
He was crazy, abusive, and narcissistic to the point of delusions. I was fifteen and working, saving up every penny I made at the Pizza Crust, and biding my time until I could get out on my own. Trent was going to school and only came home when he couldn’t find a girl with an apartment he could shack up with for the night. We hated our father, but I’d never thought he was capable of what I’d seen in those pictures.
However, his reaction when he’d walked into the room and seen what I was holding said otherwise.
No words were spoken before he tackled me to the floor, my side hitting his dresser on the way down. Trent was there, and he attempted to wade into the melee, but my dad shoved him out of the way as I took off toward the front of the house. He caught me as I pulled the front door open, taking me back down to the ground, half in, half out of our piece-of-shit trailer. He was a fucking rabid dog, taking every kick and punch I threw at him. He finally got his hands around my neck, trying to choke the life out of me, but through it all, I clung to those pictures.
I wasn’t going to be another photo to add to his stack.
Adrenaline had thundered inside me, and with a hard buck, I’d been able to knock him off me, just long enough to jump off the front steps and dive directly into Trent’s waiting car.
“He killed them,” I panted, throwing the pictures into his lap as he pulled onto the main road. “I know he did. Why else would he have pictures of people who supposedly committed suicide?”
He looked down at them, lifting one into his line of sight, and let out a boomed curse as he hit the accelerator.
“He’s a fucking psychopath,” I panted. “We need to go the police. Lock his ass away forever.”
“Okay, okay,” Trent whispered, raking a shaking hand through the top of his hair. “Let’s think about this for a second. We gotta be smart here. This is some heavy shit.”
“There’s nothing to fucking think about! We gotta go to the cops.”
He banged his hand down on the steering wheel. “There’s a shit-ton of stuff to think about! You’re fucking fifteen. They’ll send you to foster care.”
I stared at him with my mouth gaping open. “You think I give a fuck if they send me to some group home? It’d be a damn vacation.”
He shook his head. “No. I won’t let that happen. We need to buy some time. I’ve got a friend we can stay with tonight. How much money do you have?”
“I don’t know. Maybe five hundred bucks.”
“Okay. Okay. We’ll do this right. We can pack our stuff and leave.”
I leaned against the door, my body twisted to face him. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Our father is a murderer! Who do you think is going to help us in this town once they learn this shit? No one. Fucking no one.” His wild gaze flicked to me for only a second. “Here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to take you to work. Finish your shift and then see if you can get your last paycheck. If they say no, take that shit out of the register. I’ll do the same, and then tonight, we’ll go to the police. But I’m telling you, we gotta be ready to go as soon as this shit hits the news.” He reached over and grabbed my neck. “He’s done. We’ll make sure of that. But I’m going to take care of you. That’s what Mom would have wanted, right?” When I didn’t reply, he repeated, “Right?”
I swallowed hard and then ruined the lives of forty-eight people and their families. “Right.”WILLOWI don’t remember stirring the entire night. At some point, Caven had left, because when I woke, I was alone in a dark room, the two chocolate-brown curtains excelling at their job.
