Page 33 of Diem

I can’t walk away from this and even if I could, I shouldn’t. Dixie is dead. Other girls, women are dead. If my dad truly, did it, killed my best friend, how can I bury my head in the sand and ignore it?

The door to his room is closed and after glancing both ways down the hall, I approach only to pause when I find that the window built into the door is covered. During the school day, that window is always clear, but now, it’s blocking my and anyone else’s view of what’s happening inside.

Nibbling my lip, I contemplate what to do. With an experimental push on the door, I confirm it's firmly latched this time. Now what?

I could poke my head inside. I mean, it wouldn’t be suspicious. I’m his daughter. I’ll, I don’t know, ask for money for gas or something.

My heart pounds so heavily, I feel it in my skull and with a shuddering breath, I wipe my hands down my pants and grab the door handle. But once again, I’m foiled because the door is locked.

Shit. He’s in there with the door locked.

The air sucks from my lungs and I press a hand to my chest, trying to breathe through the panic.

“Mae?”

“What?” I squeak, spinning and staring with disbelief at my dad standing before me. Holy shit. He’s not in there. A hysterical laugh bubbles on my tongue but I swallow it and say as casually as I can, “Hey, Dad.”

“What do you need, darlin’?” he asks, and I lean against the door. Frankly, I don’t know how my legs are holding me up.

“Um, gas money,” I whisper, and he digs into his back pocket before pulling out his wallet. I eye his face quietly, searching for anything to indicate he was doing something inappropriate but all I see is the man who’s been my hero since virtually birth.

There’s no way he’s the one who killed Dixie and it’s clearly a coincidence the whole Kenny thing, I decide as he produces a twenty-dollar bill. With a silent sigh, I reach out to grab the cash but pause because he inadvertently pulled out too much.

The air sucks from my lungs once more and I search the tiny, folded up piece of paper for her handwriting. It’s exactly how Dixie used to pass notes to me before, declaring that she refused to text when handwritten words were so much more intimate and romantic. She had a knack for making them as small as possible and used pink paper that matched her hair. That was so like her, to color coordinate her damn secret notes.

“Here you go, pumpkin,” Dad says, moving the note to his other hand.

Dumbly, I stare at that pink square as I take the bill and when he oh-so-casually puts it back in his wallet, I back away. I suppose it's possible it's another coincidence but even I can’t remain in denial any longer. What are the odds that Dixie was dating a man named Kenny, and my dad who encourages his students to call him that also has a tiny, folded letter in his wallet that looks suspiciously like those Dixie used to pass?

Yeah, I’m not sure I believe in coincidences anymore.

“See you at home?” Dad says and I nod before swinging around. The tears I can’t escape build behind my eyes as I pass down the hall and into another before picking up speed.

I’m almost to the double doors signaling my freedom from this hell hole when Diem steps in front of me and I slam into his chest. Luckily, he grabs my arms because the momentum would have pushed me to the floor.

His eyes search mine while I stare at him mutely but when he opens his mouth, I wrench away and push through the doors.

“Mae?” he calls out but I quicken my steps. When I’m beside my car, I look up to find him standing on the stairs and while I slide inside and ease from the spot, he doesn’t move.

Finally, I reach the road and that’s when the sobs come, following me all the way home to the house of lies I’m beginning to dread.

∞∞∞

That evening I sit down to dinner with an uneasy smile and brood while my parents talk around me. Their fake as fuck conversation burns but I have bigger issues to worry about now.

After an hour of hysteria in my room, I’ve calmed enough to consider that the note in Dad’s wallet could have been anything. Yes, it looks suspicious, but the pink paper matches the same hue as our detention slips, the pink sticky notes Mom uses for the groceries and so on.

Without actually reading what it says, I refuse to condemn my dad. Although the dark niggling thoughts I can’t outrun circle my brain on repeat.

What if Dixie was having an affair with my father? That doesn’t make him a killer, just a scumbag. If it’s true, what do I do about it?

Maybe if I continue to ask around, I’ll find the real Kenny and put my fears regarding my father to rest. Well, at least the prospect that he’s at best fucking his students and at worse…well I refuse to think about it.

“Mae? Pay attention, your food is getting cold,” Mom snaps and I look up.

Her cold stare shrivels my heart and I drop my head. Sometimes when I look into her eyes, I wonder if she even likes me.

“Kiddo?” Dad says, “What’s wrong?”

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