I run the stop sign as I make a right turn. Rage and recklessly driving isn't the best combination right now, but I can't bring myself to care. I'm angry, sad, hurt, confused, and I need to clear my head. My phone rings for a third time from the passenger seat. I glance over and see Kal's name and face on the screen. Not now. I grab my phone, ignoring his call, and turn my sound off before tossing it back on the seat. The word 'cemetery' passes over my head as I drive through the front gates and park to the side of the make-shift road.
As I climb out of my car, a cold breeze nips at my cheeks and the back of my neck, and I reach in the backseat and grab the old brown leather jacket. I slip it on and pull it tighter around me, smelling the fabric. It still smells like Dad. I follow the path I memorized after his funeral and soon find his grave. The weeks-old flowers sit in the slot and wilt towards the grass, and I replace them with the fresh bouquet I brough with me. I knell down and place a hand on the headstone.
Jeffery Xavier Cameron
Beloved Father, Friend, Husband
Always and Forever Missed
The best damn father in the world. I cross my legs as I sit, and I pick at the grass by my shoes. "Hey, Dad," I start with a soft whisper, unsure of what to say. My chest tights as I force back tears and I hold my hands together as they shake. "I'm having a bad day. Whenever I'd have a bad day, I'd come to you, and we'd talk about it. You listened—actually listened—and you gave me the best advice. Now you're gone and I don't know who else to talk to. I still find myself always coming back to you."
I cry out a sob and hide my face in my hands. "I can't talk to you anymore! You're gone and—who's going to listen now? I'm such an idiot. I made a mess of things, Dad, and I don't think I can fix it now. I hurt the two people I care about most and..." My vision blurs with tears and I shake my head fast. "And I need you. I need you to listen and to tell me how to fix it and to... just be here. I need you here."
As I shove my hands in the jacket pockets, I feel something in the right one, and I grab it and pull out a white folded envelope. My eyes widen. It's addressed to me... from Dad. "What?" I whisper to myself, confused, and rip the side open. I unfold a letter and read it.
Dear Codi,
I never thought I'd have to write this kind of letter, but the way things are now with Uncle Paulter and your mother, it'd be best if I did. Even after everything, all I can hope for is that you can forgive me. I still want my little girl to love me.
Codi Elaine Cameron- I love you. I am so proud of you. You are the best gift and the best daughter a man can have or ask for. I wouldn't trade you for the world. Never stop being you. Never stop loving. Never stop swinging.
Don't let them tell you otherwise: you will always be mine.
Always my little girl.
Love, Dad.
Tears drop on the paper as I continue crying. The letter's dated a week before the car accident. I fold it back and shove it back in the pocket. I stare at his headstone, lost in miserable thought. This just makes me more suspicious of my mother and Uncle Paulter. Did Dad know something? And if so, is he dead because of it?
YOU ARE READING
twisted ✔️ (being edited)
Mystery / ThrillerIt's been a week since Dad died. People won't stop reminding us about it. Every day someone new stops by with home cooked meals and empty handed condolences. I wish they would stop. Each time the wound closes, a hot burning knife rips it back open...
