I leave my bike behind the tree and inch closer to the cottage by using the trees as camouflage. By the time I’m a few metres away, Dad re-emerges.
But he’s not alone.
A limp woman lies at his feet as he drags her out. At first, I don’t understand what I’m seeing. Dad and a woman.
I mean, I know Daddy is popular with women and goes on some dates, but he never introduces them to me. Why would he bring them to the cottage that’s supposed to be our basecamp?
It’s when he drags her across the harsh ground and her head lolls that I catch a glimpse of the woman’s side view. Her head is all strapped with silver duct tape except for the eyes, which are bulging, bloodshot, and vacant. They’re looking at me, but they’re seeing straight through me. Her arms are limp and a trail of blood trickles down her body, soaking the hem of her dirty pink dress.
I gasp and quickly cover my mouth with both hands. Dad stops and spins around, planting his shovel in the ground.
For a moment, I think he sees me. I think he’ll come over and catch me.
I remain frozen in place, not making a sound. I don’t even breathe, but I can’t control the tears that slide down my cheeks and moisten my fingers.
The face of the man I call Daddy every day is the same. His features are the same, those deep blue eyes and that blond beard. Everything I see is Dad.
And yet…he isn’t.
And yet…he’s dragging the body of a dead woman. I want to go there and scream, ask why, demand he explain, but I can’t move, let alone go to him.
I remain planted behind the tree as I stare at the man I call Daddy. My father. My only family.
Instead, there’s a devil in his place.
Dad whirls around, and the woman’s head hits the ground, her hand lifelessly sliding behind her.
I think I’m going to throw up.
As soon as he’s out of view, I run back towards my bike. I trip, fall, and stand up again. My knee stings and hot liquid trickles down my shin. My heart is about to beat free of its confinements, but I don’t stop until I’m on the bike.
My legs quiver as I cycle through the forest Dad and I call our world.
His world is different from mine.
His world has duct tape and vacant eyes.
And blood. A lot of blood.
The need to puke my guts out assaults me again, and I nearly give in to it. But I don’t.
I drown in the sound of the bike’s tires and the crunching of the dry leaves and the fallen branches.
I don’t look behind as I pedal the fastest I can. No idea what I’ll do now. What if… What if Dad was helping her? What if —
I frantically shake my head at that thought.
The scene was clear. There’s no mistaking that no matter how I flip it.
I halt at the edge of the road, catching my breath. My nails dig into my palms and I bite my lip as more tears soak my cheeks.
Dad is…
No. I can’t say it.
I reach into my back pocket and retrieve my phone. Alicia. I need to call my sister. She’ll tell me what to do.
The phone doesn’t ring.