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My mind fades out, the whooshing in my ears making it impossible to focus on anything.
It was him.
The masked man.
The night before comes to mind, and the words he spoke to me.
“I kill because of you, Lakyn. I killfor you.”
He did this because of me. He killed my father for me.
My heart swells and shatters, and I’m torn up inside, feeling absolutely destroyed at the death of the man who raised me.
And the dark part of me feels joy that I don’t have to walk alongside the monster anymore.
“Lakyn, are you listening?” the officer asks from beside me.
I blink, my eyelashes dripping tears I didn’t know I had shed.
“What?” I whisper.
The officer in front of me, an angry-looking man in his late sixties, narrows his eyes in suspicion, his lips pressed into a thin, crooked line. His hand is poised above his pad of paper. The tip of his pen digging so deep, I can see the tear in the thin paper.
I shrug the towel off my shoulder. “I need to go.”
His jaw clenches, and he takes a step toward the doorway, blocking my exit.
“I have a few questions I’d like you to answer first,” he starts.
“Questions about what? You can’t possibly think she would have anything to do with this?” my mom shouts at him.
I turn toward her, in shock. Everything moves slowly, and all I know is I want to get out.
Get. Me. Out.
“I have to go,” I say again, standing from the chair.
“Lakyn,” my mom whimpers, a whole new cry bubbling in her chest.
“Lakyn, please sit down,” the officer says, nodding toward my chair.
I sit down, my jaw clenching as I glare at him. “I don’t know what you could possibly have to ask. I just got here,” I snap.
“I’m curious to know if you have any idea who could have done this to your father?”
My nostrils flare, rage rolling through me. Why am I always thought to be the bad person? “I have no fucking idea. Why don’t you go through his office computer; I’m sure he has a fucking word document filled with enemies.”
It’s the truth. Sad, but true. My father was a man loved by some and hated by many. People have attempted to ruin his career more times than I can count, some even working to end his life.
My mom gasps, but she knows it’s the truth as well.
The officer doesn’t look the least bit deterred. “So you know of none of his enemies. None of your own enemies might have it out for him?”
I shoot to a stand, my toes curling inside my shoes as I glare at him. He stands too, his pen and pad of paper falling to his sides as he broadens himself.
I don’t fucking care.
“I’m tired of you all thinking I’m the cause of every fucking murder in this town. If you’d stop pointing fingers at me, maybe you could pull your fingers out of each other’s assholes long enough to find out who the real killer is,” I growl before walking past him.
