Page 86 of Twist Me

I noticed it was quiet when I opened the door, but I figured it wasn’t that big of a deal. I saw a big banner on the wall by the kitchen. It said, “Welcome Home.”

I clutched the folded paper in my pocket, feeling my daughter’s love giving me the strength I needed. That little girl had always been my strength. She was the purity that kept my heart from going completely dark in the hell I endured at the asylum.

The image of her springy brown hair and hazel eyes greeting me was all I needed most nights. God, she looked so much like her mother. I had about fallen over seeing her so grown up—a spitting image of Ariah. Ariah would be proud of our flourishing little flower, and I only hoped she’d be proud of me returning home.

That word again.

Home.

Where my feet were standing sure didn’t feel like home, yet my name was still printed on the deed, and the government would tell you I owned the ritzy-ass property. The smell of the air fresheners made my nose tickle. All the damn perfection of the house felt strange. I was used to mold, dust, and the smell of cleaners. Walking around the living room with the perfectly placed leather couch and the rug with no tears on it felt downright eerie to me.

“Uh, Tiffany?” I called out, continuing to walk forward through the kitchen, where a big spread of some of my favorite foods was on the table.

I couldn’t resist snagging a scone and some bacon. The flavors exploded in my mouth like a fucking party. Frowning, I looked around at the quiet, too-clean area. This sure wasn’t a party.

“Tiff? I am here. Xenia? I got you something, sweetheart.”

Not getting a response, I frowned.

Where the hell did they go?

“Xeny Bug?” I called out, the hallway at the end feeling foreign but also familiar.

No answer.

The door to the bedroom was open, and the sunflowery yellow room still smelled like fresh paint. I had a contractor make sure everything was perfect.

“Xeny? Tiffany?” I hollered again, pushing open the door of the bedroom.

Flipping on the light, I felt my blood go cold.

On the ground was Tiffany. She looked like she was sleeping. Her eyes closed, her body on her side.

“Tiff?” I asked, going down and reaching for her. She didn’t move.

The scent of that cold metallic smell singed my nose. Carefully, I rolled her over, a single stab wound on her chest coming into view. Blood soaked into her shirt, and I could see a note underneath her in the puddle. She had been running, but from what? I barely felt myself move as I shakily grabbed the letter and read the smudged words on the page in black ink.

“Poor little Pharoah. You’ve been on a ticking time clock for so long. It was a matter of time until it would…run out.”

I felt the tears sting my eyes, making me feel blind. “Xenia? Please, where are you?”

Bile rose in my throat as I frantically searched the room, throwing open closet doors and checking small places she could hide.

“Xenia!” I tried again, my tears falling along with my hope.

There, on the bed, the covers were laid over a small form. Feeling my heart shatter, I walked over to the bed and pulled back the sunflower bedspread. Revealed was my beautifuldaughter. Her body lay still, her hands steepled over her heart, like a little princess. Her chest was statue-still. Her beautiful hazel eyes were open, yet I knew she saw nothing.

“Xenia?” I touched her skin. She was cold, her face pale. My hand shook, unable to comprehend what I was seeing. “Sweet girl…I’m here…D-Daddy is here.”

My tears fell on her once rosy cheeks as my heart, hope, and humanity truly broke. The pain ripped me apart. I waited so long to hold her, to tell her I loved her. That time was stolen from me and taken away like her mother.

“No!” I screamed, holding my daughter in my arms. “Xenia, no. Please. I was going to be better. I was going to be the dad you deserved. Please don’t leave me, sweet girl.”

Her eyes would haunt me. The symbol of how much I had truly failed her. Those gorgeous eyes that held so much light were dark now.

“I am sorry, Xenia. I am so sorry I failed you your whole life. I am sorry your mother was ripped away from you. I am sorry you grew up never knowing how much I love you, how much I need you. I am sorry I am too late.”

I held her in my arms, closing those sweet eyes for the last time.

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