I saw him go away.
Didn’t I?
The man lets out a malicious laugh and I know now more than ever that he’s not a fabrication of my mind.
“No,” I cry and shake my head. “No.”
Willow finally wakes up, realizing the car has stopped and begins wailing. But I tune her out. I’m too focused on the man in front of me, clutching my locket. My locket!
The same man who inflicted years and years and year of pain, heartbreak, and terror on me. The man who was supposed to love me because I’m a part of him.
My daddy.
Chapter Twelve
~Before~
The smell of burnt rubber suffocates me, devours me, and consumes me until I cough out raspy gurgles and my throat is licked by flames. My eyelids flutter open. I squint as my eyes adjust to the bright sunlight beaming down on me. Once my vision is clear, I notice I’m surrounded by fragments of metal and glass particles of various shapes and sizes.
There’s a fierce throbbing in my temples when I try to lift my head. A warm, sticky substance drips down the left side of my face. Fanning my fingers across my cheek, I then bring them down in front of my eyes and as the blurriness in my vision begins to fade I notice the crimson on my fingertips.
I’m bleeding.
I’m oblivious.
Confused.
What happened?
To my left there’s a Lincoln Sedan with shiny, patent leather black paint, the front end smashed, and lodged into a giant Oak tree. The windshield has been shattered and there are shard of glass on the hood of the car.
Smoke unfurls from the underneath of the hood.
Was I in that car?
I had to have been. Why else would I be lying next to it? But if I was in that car why can’t I remember riding in it?
I sit up and examine an assortment of cuts and bruises lining my arms then I brush a few loose pieces of glass from my lime green dress.
With wobbling legs I stand, using the side of the car for support. Looking around, the road I’m on is empty and pieces of the car bumper shimmer as the sunlight trickles down washing over them.
I stare at the car, perplexed, disorientated, and curious.
Could I have been driving?
I massage my temples trying, willing any recollection that I might have about this accident to come back to me, but I get nothing.
Seconds breeze by.
Next minutes.
Then I hear it, the crying.
It begins as a soft whimper then works its way into a full on wail.
Frantically, I feel my way down the side of the car and peer through the back passenger door. My eyes go wide and I yank on the shiny door handle. There’s an infant strapped into her car seat, her cheeks bright red, eyes filled with tears, mouth open wide as long screams leave her throat.
I untangle her from the straps of her car seat. I stare at her wide eyed for a moment as her wails intensify. I’m still so confused. There’s still so much I wish I could remember.