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31...



I kept fidgeting with my dress. Partially because the white crinoline brushing against my knees was foreign and weird, but also because I wanted to hold Roy's hand like an anxious two-year-old. I knew he was upset. After what he'd just found out, how could he not be?

I was upset.

NO.

More than that.

I was furious.

I knew what my dad had done to Roy. I saw it all. Every bit of it. But what I hadn't been made aware of through Roy's memories were my father's intentions. After all those horrible things my dad had done, at the end of that sad, painful life, Roy was supposed to die. And my dad was the one who was supposed to kill him.

I couldn't believe it. I mean, I knew Marley had told the truth. But how could I believe it? God, I just felt so confused. My own father. I knew he'd been absent in my life, that he'd lied, that he was cruel, that he was heartless. Considering all those things, I supposed I shouldn't have been shocked at all. And maybe I wasn't shocked. Maybe I was...ashamed.

Roy had only met me because my dad brought him home. I was James Whitman's daughter. How could Roy trust me now that he knew the truth about my dad? How could he trust anyone when he just found out that the only father-figure he'd ever had was supposed to kill him?

I couldn't imagine what I would do in his position, or how I'd feel. But I knew what it was like to find out a terrible secret. I knew what it was like to hear something you wish you'd never heard. I understood what it felt like to know something and wish that I didn't know it. Like the night I found out how unhappy my mother truly was.

I knew she'd been depressed for a long time. All the pill bottles lying around the house was enough to tell me what I needed to know without asking. What I hadn't realized was how sad she'd been. Sad enough to lock herself in the bathroom and down a whole bottle of pills.

I had been the one to drive her to the hospital that night. I had been the one to clean the vomit off the back seat the next morning.

When dad came to the hospital it wasn't to check up on my mother, or me. He came to give her the divorce papers that he'd signed the week before. That was the day I realized how soulless my father could be.

Now, two months later, I knew he was an empty, cold-blooded murderer.

Finding out something horrible about one of my parents was not a new experience, but it seemed like no matter how many horrifying secrets I discovered, I still got hurt every time. I should have been numb, but I wasn't.

It wasn't just me that got hurt this time, either. My family's dysfunction was reaching out and damaging other people now too. And I felt completely powerless to stop it from happening.

I closed my eyes, unable to look at Roy. He hadn't said a word since Marley told him the truth. We were all just standing there, waiting for someone else to say something. But none of us had. I don't think anyone knew what to say.

That's when Chris opened the door, Caleb hurrying passed him to grab Marley's legs. "Whoops, sorry honey, I didn't mean to interrupt," Chris said as he glanced at our faces. They must have been disturbingly solemn, because his eyes widened and I saw him gulp. "Phone for you," he said, handing over the handset and bending to retrieve Caleb. The little boy put up a bit of a fight, squealing loudly before finally letting go and allowing Chris to carry him out of the room.

Marley held the phone in both hands, her eyes flitting from my face to Roy's. "I'll be right back. Don't do anything. Just—just wait." She said, padding out of the bedroom and pulling the door shut behind her.

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