The Truth Hurts

52 │better safe than sorry

Suffering from a massive migraine, Sheriff Martinez walks up the short steps to his porch as he fumbles through his keys to find the one to the deadbolt. He looks up at the lamp mounted on the wall above the door and sighs, figuring the light bulb must have went out again.

He finds the right key and inserts it, opening the door with one hand as he rubs at his temple with the other. Their house alarm doesn't alert and he knows immediately that Millie forgot to punch in the code on the panel near the front door.

As he closes the door he halts, immediately hearing an odd noise coming from the first floor. He gazes to the kitchen and quickly reaches for his Glock 22, quietly stepping forward as he follows the sound. None of the lights are on except for the one on the wall above the staircase, giving the hallway a dim glow.

A small, wooden door is heard slamming shut as another opens, someone clearly rummaging through the cabinets. He lifts the pistol up, steadily aiming it with his tight grip as he slips through the entrance leading into the kitchen. His hand grazes against the wall and the second he feels the light switch he flicks it on, quickly turning to aim at the figure as—

Screaming, Millie drops the box of hot chocolate mix to the floor. One of the packets falls out from the open lid, breaking as it hits a tile and sends a small cloud of umber dust on the legs of her pink pajamas.

"Millie?!" He quickly lowers the gun, his cheeks flushing pink. "What are you doing in here?"

"Getting hot chocolate?" She says, her voice shaken as her eyes peer at the gun still in his hand. Her hands nervously dig into her sweater pockets.

He follows her stare and quickly slides it back into its holster. He shakes his head as he approaches her. "I am so sorry. I thought maybe somebody broke in."

She nods. "Yeah. I saw that."

"I am so sorry." He repeats, the terrible thought of what could have happened if he had pulled that trigger seeping into his mind.

"It's cool." She smirks, still startled by his overly defensive state. It's higher than usual, which she never thought could be possible. "I mean, I almost peed my pants. But it's cool."

"Why are you up so late?"

"Couldn't sleep. And hey, no school tomorrow so I figured why not catch up on Pretty Little Liars. But then I realized that it's way too late to try to decipher that show. I mean, really, how many A's could there possibly be?" There she goes with her signature trait, the nervous mumbling syndrome, as she reaches down to pick the box up from the floor. He gazes at her as if she is speaking a foreign language, clearly having no idea what she's talking about. As she sets the hot chocolate on the countertop, she glances back at the gun hanging from his belt. "Are you okay?"

"There was another murder tonight." Martinez rubs again at his forehead, feeling the headache growing worse. Knowing how his daughter is, he already said too much.

"Who?"

"You know I—"

She cuts him off, crossing her arms as she steps forward. "Who, Dad?!"

He sighs, giving in. "Kira Walker."

"Oh my god." Millie shakes her head. "How?"

Martinez glares at her, considering whether or not to drop it here. But, if it's going to be on the news tomorrow regardless, then what's the point really? Maybe if she knows the truth, she'll be more cautious. "A person—"

"The killer." She corrects him. "He's not a person. He's a monster."

"The killer broke into her house. He snuck into her bedroom while her parents were asleep." His eyes tear up as the words continue to flow out of his mouth, not wanting to go into such detail but feels it's for the best. "The forensics are guessing that Kira was asleep on her bed when he crawled on top of her and pinned her down before pulling out his knife. He pressed it to her throat and—"