Chapter 3

'Some memories are best forgotten'

I was never going to be the same that was true, but why did everything else have to change as well.

My sprint changed to a slow stumble as I reached the shiny, probably new front door of Murray's-A.K.A my stepfather's- house. With a huge gasp, I collapsed on my mother's doorstep.

The next few minutes went by in a flurry of screams, tears and pity. But there were things that I just couldn't understand about those few minutes.

Why was my Mum actually crying over my dad? Why was she sobbing about what a good guy he was? Why was my stepfather Murray trying to hug me?

"Please, just don't." I didn't want to be there, in that room, surrounded by liars.

I walked to 'my' room, the only room in the house that was never really slept in.

My books lined the polished shelves and filled every draw and cupboard in the room designated to be my sleeping area twice a month.

The bed was neatly made, but I knew my mother's manicured; picture perfect hands had not touched those sheets.

I slammed the door, rattling the sleek, shiny windows, sending the cream curtains fluttering.

My cheeks were dry, not another tear could spring from my blood shot eyes; my throat was as dry as hot sand.

I stripped off my uniform and threw it in a heap on the floor.

Standing there in my under clothes I took a glance at the mirror.

My green eyes were filled with sorrow; my bright red hair had seemed to have lost its lustre. My willowy limbs were shaking and my arms were wrapped awkwardly around my trembling torso.

What a sorry sight I was.

I ducked my head in utter disgust.

"I shouldn't be so weak, I have to be strong like….D-d-d….he…. always said." I whispered the words to myself, struggling to mention my father out loud. My sorrow was much too fresh for my lips to form any mention of him.

I straightened my back and stared down my own eyes with a murderous glare.

"My father was killed today and I am here standing in my underwear in front of the mirror. They better find that murdering bastard or they'll have me to answer too." But my words would go unheard as I heard Murray's car pull out of the driveway. My mother was on her way out to scavenge all the pity she could get and I knew it.

I plodded, all but asleep to my chest of drawers.

"What I need is a good book." I wanted a fiction, non-fiction was a bit boring and I needed to take my mind off the real world and sweep it into a mystical web of fantasy.

My fingers collided with a magical romance. I whipped it up into my arms and lay on the soft sheets of my bed.

...

The kiss between the beautiful young witch and the prince was interrupted by the tinkling of the land line.

With a furrowed brow I unhooked the phone from underneath my bed side table.

"Hi, call back when I care-"

"Miss Eliham, it's about your father," a stern voice interrupted me before I could hang up.

"I'm listening," I winced in reply.

"We are sorry to call you at this hour of the morning, but we thought we would be courteous enough to tell you as soon as we knew. Your father drowned, according to the autopsy report. We have yet to rule out foul play, but we highly doubt it is that scenario. I shall keep you notified. Have a nice day."

And without any time for an answer he hung up, leaving the dial tone to mock my stunned ears.

'Rule out foul play?!' the thought was gobsmacking. How could it have been anything else?

How could my dad drown himself in the middle of our front room? If it wasn't foul play then why was my car gone? My keys? It just didn't make sense to my logical brain.

"Nothing much happens in this town, so I guess that's why Dad's autopsy was finished so early.-" I droned on, thinking out loud.

"There hasn't been a murder here since that man murdered his daughter." I shuddered at the thought. In a moment of reminisces, my mind was swept into a memory from years back.

...

"Kerry, where are you?" my Mum's voice was sharp and nasal when she shouted as loud as her lungs would allow.

I pulled my head from amongst the butterflies and unicorns buzzing around the words printed on the pages of the book Mum and Dad got me for Christmas.

"Coming, Mum!" I ran down stairs lugging the pink covered fairytales behind me.

"Oh, what are we going to do with you?" she sneered as she ripped the book out of my hands and shoved me out the door.

"Silly little girl, always away with the fairies!" my mother whined away.

"Oh, give it a rest Diane, she's five years old!" Dad always defended me.

"Shut up!" and the fight began, like every other time, every other day.

I wonder if Dad knew about the guy Mum brought over while Daddy was at work.

I hear them laughing while I'm in bed. They laugh and joke, not like Mum and Dad. They never laugh.

I see the court house appear while Mum carries on screaming at Dad.

The engine cuts out.

Silence.

Trembling, I step out of the car into dads protective arms.

"Get away from my daughter!" my mother ripped me from dad's arms and back handed him across the face.

My scream did little more than earn me a similar slap.

"You be quiet!" I'd hoped that this wouldn't happen again.

She was furious, and that was never ever something I wanted.

I struggled to get from her biting claws, but I was no match for my mother's steel grip.

"Diane, just calm down." His eyes were red like glowing embers, I knew at any moment he was going to explode into a raging inferno.

In the mists of the arguing, a lone figure had filtered into my vision.

"Mr Eliham, I'm sorry to bother you but..." The figures voice hesitated, but stayed formal.

"Look, I've had enough of you and your excuses!" My mother smacked my dad once more.

...

The memory shattered as a loud bone rattling bang rattled through my body.

That memory was one I never ever wanted to remember.

I realised with shake of my head that the noise was the slamming of mother's car doors.

My body hit arctic floor as I struggled for my clothes.

The light tap of the door send me rolling under the bed.

"Kerry?" My Mum's voice was muffled by the sheets covering the opening to the dark void under my bed.

I must have looked a sight as I poked my head out from my hiding spot.

"What are you doing?" her voice was shocked and yet at the same time it had a slight hint of laughter.

"I thought you might be, um Murray." No matter how many times she protested, I would never call him 'Dad', he will never ever be my dad.

"Oh, well you have two hours before we go to work, so up and out of bed." It was already 7 O'clock and I hadn't slept at all.

I was wide awake. Haunted by the images of my father's mutilated body and the completely baffling words of the police officer, my mind was simply too full to sleep.