Page 111 of The Lake of Lost Girls

“Stop hurting these girls. You should be mad at me. Mat at that teacher.” I was setting myself up for violence, I knew that. But I couldn’t bear my child becoming a demon as a result of the pain I had inflicted.

“Iammad at you. At every man like you. But you’re still my dad.” Her voice had been tiny and fractured.

That was her only reason and in some awful way, I understood. Our love for each other had always been the best thing. Now it was the worst.

I helped her dispose of the bodies. She told me she had buried the first one, wrapped in the same blanket I had tenderly tucked around her when she was a baby. She couldn’t remember where. The woods are large so I could never find the spot. I only hopedshe had been smart about it. I couldn’t imagine my diminutive daughter being able to carry a dead body on her own. But if there was one thing I had learned it was that I could never underestimate what she was capable of.

We had taken the paddleboat and gone out to the middle and tossed her other mistakes into the deep, deep water.

I paused, my eyes filling.

“This is all your fault,” she whispered, no longer crying into my shirt.

“I know,” I agreed.

She was a danger.

“I love you so much.”

“I know, sweetheart.”

She had to be stopped.

“I’m so sorry,” my voice cracked. “I love you, Jess.”

I wrapped my hands around her neck and squeezed.

She stared at me, eyes wide, mouth gaping.

In the end, I think she was glad. She could see how much it was destroying me. She liked that it hurt me. But she must have felt relief that it was going to be over.

It lasted a long time and my girl was strong. Taking the life of someone you love is the hardest thing you can ever do. And she fought.

But I had to protect her from herself. I had to protect Cara. And Lindsey. I had to protect every other woman that she saw as a threat.

Jess had become a liability to our family. She had become a danger to everyone. Especially to herself.

Eventually, it ended.

She stopped fighting.

Stopped clawing at me.

When it hit me what I had done, I started crying. I cradled her body, wishing she would wake up. Wishing I could take it all back.

This was all my fault.

More time went by and I could hear Lindsey yelling.

“Jessie!”

Then it turned to a scream.

In a panic, I put my baby girl’s body in the trunk of the Mustang and went to check on my other daughter.

Lindsey:

“Where is she?” I asked, my voice taking on a strength I hadn’t known I possessed. The ringing was subsiding. The realization finally settled into my gut.

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