Chp.7

"Care to explain?" He asks again.

"You came early." I say, sarcastically.

"Answer me, Luke." Dad says, sighing exasperatingly.

Mom has her hand on her mouth, looking at my dusty, bloody self.

"You'd be the last who'll I explain myself to." I say, my head throbbing.

I'm still standing on the stairs, my blood is chasing and I feel dizzy. I ran the last few blocks home. Maybe I caught a little fever. Who cares though? I need to go to my room. I need to go through the pictures. The paper. Is it-

Dad glares at me, "I'm your father, Luke. When I ask you where you've been then I bloody expect an answer to it."

"Father?" I scoff, "Yeah sure. May I remind you that you're a father I never see anymore?"

He pinches his brows in frustration as Mom says,

"What happened to you?"

"Nothing." I murmur, not looking back at her.

"I tell ya what happened!" Dad snaps, "I got a call from DS Rickson. Claims he saw your son getting beaten up by that Ander Marsh!"

I clench my fists. How dare Rickson talk about my worries? Why couldn't he keep his mouth shut?

"Is that true Luke?" Mom asks, her eyes disappointed.

"I didn't get beaten up." I point out, "I got into a fight, that's all."

"Why?" Mom asks.

When I don't answer, she sighs, "Look at you. You're a mess. I can't believe you let that boy do that to you."

"I'll ruddy well complain to his father!" Dad exclaims, suddenly, "So what if he owns half the shops of the town? Doesn't give his son a bloody reason to beat mine! I'll go to his house this very-"

"No one's going anywhere!' I yell at them, "And no one got beaten! I don't need you to go anywhere. I'm fine. Just a cut."

"Is that why you came late?" Dad demands.

I frown, "No. I went to the shop afterwards."

And it's weird how they're paying attention to me right now. It's weird how I'm getting in trouble right now. That had always been your thing. I never got scolded about these kind of things. Until today.

"To get what?" Mom asks, but her voice is stern.

I'm still frowning, "Why are you asking me that? It's my money."

"Your mother asked you a question," Dad says, "Answer her."

"I went to get some juice." I say.

This isn't making sense. So what if I fought Ander Marsh? So bloody what?

"What's in the paper bag?" He inquires, skeptically.

You know what I hate the most, Jesse? That no one trusts me anymore. Not even Dad. He always looks at me like I'm up to something that isn't good.

"Chill," I reply, casually. "They don't have any daggers. Just some bandages."

Mom gasps, taken aback. "Bandages? Why on earth do need them for?"

I look at the floor, at my shoes, my way of showing how I want this conversation to end.

Dad's staring at me angrily. And Mom looks like she'll cry. And I know how much they want it all to end. How much they want it all to be normal. How much we all want each other to go back to who we were. But I can't. Not until I complete my promise to you. Because I promise that I'll find the killer. And I'll take revenge. My own way.

I take a deep breath, turning to go upstairs. But I stop - again - when Dad says,

"Wash your face. Then come for dinner. We were waiting for you."

I raise an eyebrow, "Why?"

We never ate together after you died. Mom would just put the food on the counter and eats hers alone. When Dad would come back he would have already eaten his while working. I spent most of my day in my room. I don't really eat dinner. It wastes my time.

"Because," Dad sighs, "We want to talk to you."

"I'm telling you," I say, "I'm fine. I'm-"

"No, it's something else." Dad explains.

I shrug the bag off my shoulders and limp down past them and in the dining room. They follow me and sit down on the chairs. I awkwardly sit with them, staring down at the salad Mom made. Which I don't want to eat. You ate them every day, said that it kept you fresh. And I'm not so sure if I want to eat anything really.

But I still grab myself a plate full of it to please Mom.

We sit there, they aren't saying anything, just watching me eat, and I pretend to not notice them, chewing the vegetables, my body still aching. I drink down some water and place it down, frowning at them.

"Well?" I ask, "Aren't you guys going to eat?"

I stare at the seat in front of me, where you used to sit.

I remember how noisy our meal used to be. You and I arguing when the other spills something about the next. I remember the first time I got detention and I didn't tell Mom and Dad but your friend was in detention as well and she told you.

You were grinning that night and I knew something was up. Then you announced about how I had detention. Mom was so shock that night and I remember my face was hot with embarrassment and anger and how you blinked innocently like you didn't know I hadn't told them. I got grounded for the weekend. But then I told about how you failed you physic exam and they got even angrier. You were grinning at me when I told them that, and I was grinning right back at you. Which only made Mom angrier. She grounded you as well and we spent the weekend inside, teasing about how we'll get the other.

But you aren't here tonight. And I feel lonely in this silence without you. I miss you so much.

"I reckon you already heard?" Mom says.

I tilt my head slightly, "Heard what?"

Mom chews her lip, looking at Dad. He sighs before saying simply.

"We're leaving New Jean. Found a good house in a town far from here. Small but it's just about fine for us three."

I'm shocked. What? We're leaving? And they're telling me this right now?! Mrs. Jonathan was right, wasn't she?

"We can't be leaving." I say as calm as ever, "I just started high school-"

"Exactly," Dad points out, somehow more calmer than me, "You barely started high school. You'll be just fine in the new place."

I grit my teeth, "But we can't leave. New Jean is a perfect town for us, Dad."

He scoffs, "Perfect? How, son? You think we enjoy the townsfolk talking behind our backs? Of how we raised her? No, I don't think it's perfect at all. At least not anymore."

My voice goes louder, "Why do you want to leave the place where you grew old?"

"Did you forget what happened to us the past months? Did you forget what she did?" Dad growls.

And I'm staring at him with surprised and hurt eyes. I look at Mom and she's not looking back. My lips are parted but I don't know what to say. Jesse, I think they-

"You think she did it, don't you?" And my voice sounds so hurt. "You think she was a psychopath and killed those girls..."

Mom quickly looks at me, shaking her head, "No, honey. It's not like that. You'll love the town. It's-"

"Don't lie to me!" I yell, getting up from my chair, "That's all you guys have done. Lie! This town, Skylar and now you two!"

"Well, we're doing it for you!" Dad shouts back, "We want you to forget all this! To move on!"

"I don't want to move on!" I bawled, "There's nothing to move on about!"

"Don't argue with me, Luke." Dad warns. "You know I don't like it when-"

"What's worse is that you guys didn't even ask me!" I'm still shouting, "You guys didn't even consult with me!'

Mom looks at us, her face pale and worried, like making us sit together was a bad idea.

It was.

"Give me one good reason why you want to stay here." Dad snaps.

I'm quiet. Because I do have a reason. You. You're the reason, Jesse. I can't leave this all behind. Your memories. Your presence. And I'm so close. I'm closer. Why did it have to happen when I'm closer to you than ever before.

Dad can see me hiding it. So I tell them. I didn't have an option. And maybe they'll wait if I tell them.

"I..." I take a long breath, "I started to search for the answer myself. To prove that Jesse didn't kill anyone. To prove what actually happened that night. And I noticed how Skylar stays in front of a cafe every Tuesday morning and I know it 'cause I took pictures of her and I think I'm closer to the truth then ever and-"

"You've been doing what?!" Dad roars, furious, slamming a fist on the table.

I gulp because I've never seen him this mad. Mom's got a sad expression of disbelief. I regret that I ever thought they'd understand.

"Why have you been spying on Skylar, Luke?" Dad demands.

"Because," I say, "Don't you see? She's lying! She's lying about Jesse!"

"No, she goddamn ain't!" Dad throws his hands in the air, "The investigation clearly stated-"

"The investigation didn't state anything! They just believed everything Skylar said! That's not how you carry out any investigation!" I shot back.

"And you've become so old that you know how to carry out one?" Dad sneers.

"I've been doing one," I say, loudly, "And I'm closer to what happened than anyone else. I took pictures as proof. They're in my room."

Dad's eyes go wide as he say, "Pictures? In your room?"

"Yes. I-"

But he didn't let me finish, running past me upstairs. And I know what he's doing as I chase after him, Mom begging us both to stop. He reaches my room before I do and freezes to see the walls surrounded with your pictures. Skylar's shots I took. And I can feel the heat of anger boiling in him.

"What is this?" He mutters.

"I'm telling you," I say, but I know I'm losing, "I'm close."

He doesn't even listen to me. Tearing down the charts. Tearing down all my hard work. And I'm screaming for him to stop but he ignores me and tears your pictures down, swearing under his breath as he did. And I plead for him to stop. But he doesn't and it's not fair. He's tearing it all down. All of the patterns of Skylar. He's tearing down everything, not even caring when he accidently tears the wallpaper.

He throws the last piece on the bed, looks at me. My face is blank with shock. How... Why...

"You're grounded," He says, "You hear me? Grounded for the next two months. I don't want you roaming around anywhere."

Mom is standing behind me and I'm fighting back my tears. How could he? How could she let him?

"I'm taking that laptop of yours," Dad growls, grabbing all of the torn charts. "And that stupid camera."

A picture of ours falls on the floor. That picture in which we were eating ice-cream. But you're not there. Your half is torn. Torn like how you were separated from me.

I hear the door behind me, muffled arguments of theirs emerging almost immediately. I fall on the floor, picking up the picture now, without you in it and I cry. Finally letting those tears out.

Nobody understands how close I am. How close to show the bloody truth. If you were me, then I know how you would have reacted. How you would have become more determined. But I feel like I'm falling apart. Like I lost. I wonder what would have happened if I had died instead. You would have been better at this. You would have been able to find out the truth way earlier. But you're not here, Jesse. And I am. That's the ruddy problem. That you're gone and I'm... I'm just lost...

I wipe the tears from my face because something caught my eye. I look up at my desk and see hope. My USB. It's there. Dad forgot to take it from me. I quickly grab it as if he can hear me thinking. I put it in the drawer.

I'm going to find out everything. I'm going to find out everything that happened. But all I need is a laptop or computer. But tomorrow's Saturday so I can't go to the school's computer lab. The library's computer is gone for repair. And I can't wait for this. I want to know. Need to.

Maybe I can ask Josh? That can work, can't it?

But I'll have to wait for the perfect opportunity. I'll climb down the tree from my window.

Tomorrow.

I promise that when I find out the truth, Jesse, no one will ever think you as the monster.