“I would, and you know what? I’m going to help.”
He raises a brow. “And how are you going to do that?”
The car comes to a stop at a gas station for a refill. My grin falters as I stare out the window at the very familiar face on the TV screen inside the store.
Ethan is talking, but I’m not listening. Like a moth drawn to a deadly flame, I open the door with shaky fingers and step out.
My ears buzz, and the closer I am to the store, the more everything else is erased from my surroundings. It’s like there’s no one and nothing. No smells, no sights.
Just nothing.
I’m floating on air, unable to feel my legs. By the time I reach the counter, where the cashier and a few customers are focused on the news, I think I may fall.
I don’t.
My feet keep me planted in place as the buzz in my ears gives way to the male news anchor’s voice.
“Turmoil broke out in the juridical system today when Judge Huntington approved the parole hearing of Maxim Griffin.” The image flashes from the anchor to an archived footage of when the police first arrested Dad. He was on his way home after that call he made to me when the police grabbed him. As they led him to the car, a conceited smirk tugged at his lips. “The most notorious serial killer in the UK’s recent history has murdered seven identified women and ten others remain suspected. The ages of his victims ranged from nineteen to thirty and all carried the same physical description.
“Griffin is labelled as the Duct Tape Killer because he abducted his victims and suffocated them using silver duct tape for long periods of time that ranged from several hours to a day before he buried them behind his cabin. His daughter, sixteen years old at the time, was the one who reported seeing her father dragging a corpse out of their hunting cabin. The trial was messy and had a lot of public attention, both inside and outside of Great Britain.” The screen flashes again to show Dad during his recent interview. “A few weeks ago, Griffin conducted an interview for the first time and accused his daughter of being an accomplice. He claims the only reason the police caught him was due to being betrayed by his partner in crime.
“The Crown Prosecution Service announced that it will re-open an investigation in regards of Clarissa Griffin, who also happens to be the only alleged witness of Maxim Griffin’s crimes. The serial killer’s daughter should be twenty-seven now. In an exclusive statement, her father’s solicitor, Stephan Wayne, says that she has adopted a new identity and currently lives in London. It’s notable to mention that Clarissa disappeared right after the sentencing of her father and escaped the Witness Protection Program.” A headshot of me from eleven years ago appears on the screen. Even though it’s old, if anyone looks at it hard enough, they’ll recognise me. “The question remains. A victim or an assailant?”
My legs shake, unable to carry me as the screen switches to a statement made by the solicitor, Stephan.
I try to focus, but the world is closing in on me and all I can hear is the beeping in my ears and the sinking of my heart.
The cashier’s attention shifts to me, and I jerk back. God. They’ll recognise me. The nightmare will start all over again.
“May I help you, Miss?” The cashier watches me closely.
I lower my head as Dad’s voice filters from the TV. “In the time I spent in confinement, I started believing in justice, its rules, and how it should be applied. I love my daughter, but she needs to pay for what she’s done. Justice, Clarissa. I taught you that.”
If someone stabs you once, stab them back ten times.
That’s what he taught me. Those were the exact words my father said to six-year-old me when I came crying about a girl who stole my pens at school. He kept repeating them until they became my mantra.
The cashier is still staring at me, but before he can recognise me, I spin around and run out of the small store. They’ll know who I am now, and everything will start again.
The name-calling, the trials, the poor police treatment, the accusatory looks.
Everything.
A hand grabs me by the arm and I yelp, coming to a screeching halt.
Ethan.
His brows scrunch. “Are you okay?”
No. Absolutely not.
He holds my phone that I left in the car, on which there are five missed calls.
“Jonathan has been calling nonstop.” His gaze drifts behind me. “Also, why is everyone staring at you?”
No, no…
Agnus barges outside and kind of pushes me towards the car.