The Misfortunes of Lolita

22 | when lolita killed

THIS IS AN UNEDITED AND SIGNIFICANTLY DIFFERENT VERSION OF THE MISFORTUNES OF LOLITA. I AM PUBLISHING IT IN FALL 2021—PLEASE FOLLOW ME ON IG @/ls.akhter and GOODREADS (L AKHTER) TO STAY UPDATED. I am so excited to share TMoL with you again.

Trigger warning: violence, bullying, depression.

CHAPTER 22

Frank watched the sheriff speak quietly to his parents, maybe asking where they'd seen her last, and he was angry, and half shaking, half about to laugh, because god, he'd thought things would be okay, for some reason. He'd been thinking, less than an hour ago, that hey-maybe shit was going to go right, now. His parents had been doing good, Cora was at college again, and Lolita had been so close to him, just last night, and she'd smiled, and she'd said I love you, Frank-and for some stupid fucking reason, he'd thought that things were going to go right.

"Frank," Martha was calling his name. Frank was staring down at his fingers now, and he was so angry, and he wanted to break something, and he wanted a long drink before looking anyone in the eye, but Martha kept calling. "Frank."

"Yeah," Frank's voice was so still. It wasn't shaking or raspy or anything at all. It was just so quiet, and still, like a tornado picking up pace.

"We're going to go looking for her," the sheriff said. He sounded blurry to Frank. "Evelyn thinks it would be easier to find her if you're with us. I think so too." Frank noticed how he didn't say her name. As though not saying her name would help him cope-it was weird, that way. Because Frank wanted to shout her name into every void and down every tunnel and up at the sky. Maybe she'd come knock at his door, that way. Maybe she'd hear him, at some point, and know that it would be okay.

"How do you know she's missing?" he asked. "Did you say something to her? Did you yell at her? Did you-"

"That's enough, Frank," Tom said, and Frank found that funny, and he almost laughed, but he was so nauseous, and everything was so blurry.

"She was on her phone, leaving me a voicemail," the sheriff said.

"Okay," Frank said. "That doesn't mean she's lost."

"Listen to the voicemail," he fished his phone out of his pocket, and Evelyn looked away as she saw his fingers shake, and Frank noticed too. "Listen."

Hey, baba. I'm going to be a little late today, I'm heading straight to Frank's after school. See you-

There was a soft intake of breath, almost muffled, and then the voicemail stopped.

"We think she was taken," the sheriff said. "Did you hear the short breath at the end?"

"We think it was either someone pressing a napkin to her nose," Evelyn continued. "Or someone grabbing her from the back, their hand on her mouth."

"He'll go with you," Martha said. "He'll go. Frank?"

"How do you know she's taken?"

"Because I do, okay?" the sheriff was standing, tall in the middle of the small living room. "The girl's scared of going anywhere without telling me. Let alone being away for so long without letting me know."

"Fucking hell," he stood up, shaking his head. "You know because you've what, mentally tortured her enough that she doesn't go anywhere without your permission?"

"This is a conversation we can be having in the goddamn car," Evelyn said, louder than either of them.

Frank put his hands inside his jacket pockets, and he thought about how the lasagna his mom had made for them was still at the roof, and he felt a lump in his throat. Fuck, things could have gone well.