𝐓𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡

𝟐 | 𝐚𝐢𝐧'𝐭 𝐧𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝

"Ria, I have to go somewhere, could you take out the trash?" My father burst into my room, not even bothering to knock. Meanwhile, I was trying to run away from dark images with my English class homework. I dug my eyes into the paper filled with letters, but it was pointless – I couldn't get rid of a soulless gaze of poor, dead Clark.

Without a word, I nodded and waited for my father to leave the room. He just stood there, watching me in silence. What? Did he want me to confess to him with what I saw? Or was he the one who was about to confess the sin he had committed?

Even if he gained some courage, he gave it up. With a harsh door slam, he left me alone again. After he left, I decided that working around the house was the first step in coming up with other, brighter thoughts. At least I thought so. I was surprised when I found the trash bin in the kitchen empty. He must have said trash... I didn't understand at first, but as soon as I tripped over Clark's motionless body – I realized.

I took a black garbage bag from the drawer and began wrapping the corpse. Clark's eyes, fixed in surprise, terrified me, so I pushed them back with my gloves. This was not right. Why was I helping my father erase the traces of his abominable deeds? I didn't have to help him. But I knew I will always do it anyway. Why?

I knew why. Because no matter what happened, no matter how inhumane were the things he did – he was still my father. I could've changed my name, I could've moved, as far away from home as possible, but the part of my blood still belonged to Lucifer O'Donnell. I couldn't destroy our family more than it was.

Also, there was this undeniable fear, which hung over me on a thin thread, leaving me desperate because it could tear up anytime. The fear, that was saying it's too late. Where have I been those years before? Why did I decide to come up clean with the truth now? I stuck in it for so long that if I'd decided to move one dice, the whole domino would start. This downfall would be fatal. I couldn't do it. And maybe... just maybe, I didn't deserve to handle it. To make it out alive. My destiny was to die under the burden of my own family's sins.

Before I made sure that no piece of man protruded from the bag, I sprinkled it with a supplement accelerating decomposition. I know, disgusting.

When the body was ready, the harder part followed. Literally the harder part. The corpse had to be stored in a car trunk, which required a lot of strength. In the years I was helping my father to do this dirty activity, I have become stronger. Even though Clark was one of the thinner ones, it wasn't enough for me to lift him without trouble or sweat. To the time I dragged the black bag through the back door of the kitchen to the garage and got it in the trunk, I was fully exhausted. Of course, I couldn't forget about the shovel.

Panting like a dog, I sat behind the wheel and wiped the sweat from my forehead with the opposite hand. I looked awful. I felt terrible. I also had a reason for that.

With cold fingers, I twisted the key in the ignition, and with the soothing sound of the engine mixed with radio songs, I'd driven into the woods situated not far behind the house. It was a gloomy night, but neither darkness nor loneliness bothered me, quite the contrary. I felt grateful for the silence and darkness in which I could hide better. However, I wasn't sure if I was hiding from other people or myself. Probably both.

I hid the bag deep in the woods and was ready to leave. Then I stopped myself. I forgot to say a prayer for poor Clark. Yes, exactly. I had no problem burying the deceased human underground but leaving without praying seemed like a bad idea. I shouldn't care. My words won't help him anyway. He was dead. My father killed him.

After saying a few farewell words, I was finally ready to leave. On the way back, I had met a group of teenagers driving red Pick Up. Several heads were sticking out of the window, other people sat in the back, handing each other a glass bottle of something. From the speakers, contagious dance music was played, letting everyone around know they were having fun. When my car met theirs, they had honked at me, shouting that I should join them. I gripped the steering wheel harder until my fingers whitened. I will never be able to be like them. I suppressed the grief that grew in me and stepped on the pedal. I hoped I'll get home before I meet anyone else because I probably wouldn't be able to handle more bitter feelings.

Frustrated, I slammed the door behind me and leaned against it. My shoulders dropped; I allowed the contracted muscles to relax. I tried to cheer up with the phrase that today can't get worse. If only I knew how wrong I was...

Determined to go back to my room and face the homework from English subject (which was only a harmless decoction compared to the "play on the gravedigger"), I moved my frozen legs. A faint clicking sound near my feet caught my attention. I bent down to find out what was in my path. My face froze, and a heavy gasp came out of my mouth. It was a gold medallion.

I knew my father wouldn't own something like that, so I was convinced that the object belongs to Clark. I mean, it belonged. With a heart as heavy as a boulder, I opened it. All emotions have disappeared from my eyes at once, replaced by an absorbing emptiness. A thought, whispering to me what I could find in a small pendant, was truthful. Three pairs of eyes stared at me from my palm. Clark's wife and children. A sympathetic brunette, whose warm smile will be replaced by salty tears due to the loss of her husband. Two little innocent boys. Children who, at this moment, had no idea that they had become orphans. A family who had been destroyed by one person by one inhuman act. And that person was my father.

Disgusted, I closed the sentimental pendant with the intention of destroying it. In my hands, I had an object that could convict Lucifer of murder. It was enough, just for it to throw it at policemen and my whole life would have changed from basis. I would be jailed up, too, by his side. After all, it was me who got rid of the body. As a father's obedient girl...

I realized what I was thinking and could only laugh at myself. I'm pathetic.