Can You Survive? (Interactive Horror Story)

Bad Cop

B. Get straight to the point (bad cop..atta girl)

"Dad who's Lizbeth?"

For a brief moment your dad took his eyes off the road and questioningly raised a brow. "Who?"

Thoughts of the crazed woman flashed in your mind as you searched for a way to brooch the topic without coming off, well, crazy. Oh well.

"Liz-beth," you said whilst placing extreme emphasis on 'beth'.

"Sweety," your dad chuckled. "Repeating that name doesn't make it any less confusing for me."

"There was a woman who attacked me. She knew about *insert childhood nickname*"

"She attacked you? Who? Are you okay?" Your dad questioned about a mile a minute. "We need to call the police!"

"You're not listening. She knew my nickname."

"And? I need to call the police."

Your patience was wearing thin. "What do you mean 'and'? You're. The Only. One. Who. Calls. Me. By. That," you growled.

"Are you trying to imply something here," his voice raised and bellowed throughout the car.

Your gaze narrowed on the road (which speaking off, you had no idea where you were traveling to). "If me making implications gets me answers, than yes dad, I think there's something you're not telling me."

Your dad calmed, realizing that you've had a horrendous day. "Look, you've had a night no one in their right mind should have to experience, let alone a *insert your age* year old."

"Stop avoiding th-"

"-but asking me this, well, nonsense isn't helping." Your dad began to reach for his phone and begin to open up the phone-calling app.

"Did you cheat on mom? Were you fucking Liz!"

Your dad slammed on the breaks.

You've never seen your father look so- angry? Was that the word? No. He looked more hurt than anything. Generally speaking, for some reason, your dad never liked talking about mom, so it wasn't your fault that you had doubt that maybe he loved another woman. "I loved your mother like life itself and if it wasn't for y-- how dare you say that!"

"Then who was she!"

"She's! She's! She's an old friend of your mother's..." he nearly sobbed. "She was the only reason why we were able to afford the house we moved into."

"Okay I get that. But that doesn't explain why she tried to kill me," you said in a strangely calm fashioned. As if any of tonight's events were something to be discussed casually.

Your dad sighed. "Some of your mother's close friends and family blame..someone...for the death of your mom."

Your mind did a double take. "Blame? I t-thought she died from some sort of internal deterioration from antibiotics she took after she gave birth."

The car was silent. The road deserted. And the night- black.

"No," your father shook his head. "Your mother didn't die after she gave birth. She died during," your father glanced your way. "*Your name*. Your mother died while giving birth to you."

Continue reading in Dad pt 2