“If you want.”
My dad nodded and left the room to fetch the officers. Martha crawled into the bed next to me and hugged me softly to her chest. I let tears fall silently down my cheek as I accepted the motherly love she offered.
My dad returned with two uniformed officers. They introduced themselves, but their names went in one ear and out the other.
“Hello, Miss Annabelle. We have some questions for you, if you're feeling up to it? Eugene–I mean your dad—said you agreed to speak with us.”
They were both staring at me expectantly. I nodded my head, and they launched into their line of questioning. I pushed away the memory of Kill's face before I’d turned and ran out the venue, as I retold the events which happened after the concert in detail.
Martha held me tighter, as I told them everything. My dad paced the room and rubbed his hand over his face, making it red from the repeated friction.
When I finished, the officers looked at their notebooks, comparing notes to make sure they’d gotten everything they needed. “Your story corroborates with what we found at the scene,” one of the officers explained.
“What does that mean?” my dad asked, launching into full cop mode. His demeanor change would’ve made me smile if it didn't hurt so much.
“There was a call earlier this morning. Someone reported an accident where a car had rolled down the embankment. When officers responded, we found your car at the bottom of the drop. Mr. Trent Conley was still unconscious, lying next to the car registered in your name. Mr. Conley had sustained severe injuries and suffered major blood loss. Paramedics responded to the scene and were able to return Mr. Conley to consciousness.”
My stomach rolled. I wasn't sure if I was relieved or saddened that Trent had survived.
“Where is that son of a bitch?” my dad seethed. His voice was deadly calm, and I hoped the officers wouldn’t answer him.
The cops looked at each other, and something passed between them. One of them nodded to the other. “While Mr. Conley was being transported to the hospital, he regained full consciousness. He retrieved a knife from his pocket and sliced his throat open, killing himself.”
Someone across the room gasped. I turned my head quickly, which made it swim from the pain. My good eye focused on Kill. He sat in a plastic hospital chair in the furthest corner of the hospital room, cloaked in darkness.
We stared at each other for a long time, until one of the officers cleared his throat, pulling me away from his gaze. “We're sorry for what happened to you. When you're up to it, we need you to come to the station to give us an official statement. Here's my card. Give me a call when you're ready. We located your purse and cell phone when your car was towed to the junkyard. You can retrieve them when you come into the station.”
I accepted the card with one of my numb hands and watched the officers exit the room after shaking my dad's hand. Martha cried silently next to me, and my dad continued to pace the room.
“Dad, please stop.”
The tension rolling off him was destroying my heart. He stopped and looked at me with tears shimmering in his eyes. “I'm so sorry, Faith. I'm the worst father. I’ve failed to protect you so many times. That was the one job I was given on the day you were born, and I've let you down.”
I gasped as tears flooded my good eye, blurring my dad's features. “Stop it. This isn't your fault. You're the best dad a girl could ask for. Enough of this pity. You're too strong for that,” I yelled, swallowing the pain it caused me.
Martha patted me on the shoulder and got out of the bed. She took my dad by the arm. “Come on, honey. Let’s go get some coffee.”
He wanted to argue. I could see it in his face, but in the end, he huffed out a breath and kissed me on the forehead before leaving with Martha.
I closed my eyes as the tears rolled down my cheek, stinging when they touched the spot where Trent had struck me. A sob caught in my ragged throat as I begged for the Earth to swallow me whole, hating what I’d put my dad through.
“Whatever you are thinking, Slick, stop.”
I opened my eye and glanced at Kill, still sitting in the corner. “It's all my fault that he thinks he failed. He was the best father, and he thinks he failed me. It's my fault I seem to attract the crazy guys.”
Kill launched up out of his chair, and came over to the side of my bed, shooting me a harsh look. “Stop it. You were strong enough to get out of a relationship that would’ve killed you had you stayed. And then you fought and survived someone who was set on torturing you.”
"Why does everyone keep saying I'm strong? All I do is find different ways to get myself into trouble. It's all my fault."
"Because you are strong. I wish you could see what I do when I look at you."
Tears were still coursing down my cheek, and I swiped at them angrily. The movement tugged at the IV stuck in my arm, and I growled in frustration. I couldn’t do anything right. Kill wiped my face and gently placed my arm back on the bed.
“Why are you here, Killer?”
“Amy heard about what happened to you after you left the concert. I had to make sure you were alright. I’m sorry, Slick. I did something horrible, and I'll never forgive myself.” His face was pinched with worry and sadness. My body tensed, afraid to hear what he was going to say.
“I don’t want to know,” I whispered. I couldn't stomach his confession of the debauchery he’d been involved in while we’d been apart.
