One Lie at a Time

IT ALL HAPPENED SO FAST

Mr. Rogers was fired only five minutes after we went to Mr. Reed. The news that Mr. Rogers apparently had anger issues spread like wildfire, and before you knew it, the entire school found out that he was fired. And it only took five minutes. That goes to show how much people love their gossip in this darn school. If I ever have kids, this is the last place I'm sending them.

When I went to get my bike so I could go to Espresso Cafe, Tyler was leaning against the bike rack, looking up at the sky. His curly hair was blowing into his eyes and there was a tiny frown on his face.

I made my way over to him and when he saw me, his frown turned upside down, "Oh my god, Lily, are you okay? I heard about what happened to you and to Mr. Rogers. I mean, did he hurt you? Please tell me he didn't hurt you. I would go after him and-" I interrupted him before he could go on, "Relax, Tyler. Yes, I'm okay, no he didn't hurt me, and I will hunt you down if you go after him."

He let out a tiny exhale of relief and continued, "Good. Do you want me to drive you to work? I don't want anything bad to happen to you on your way there."

I grinned in amusement and unlocked my bike, "Take a chill pill, nothing is going to happen to me again today. I promise."

Stacy followed me around all throughout my shift, asking me questions about Mr. Rogers and Tyler. I reluctantly answered all of her questions. This girl loved her gossip, even if it was high school drama.

"So was Tyler being serious when he said that he would beat Mr. Rogers to a pulp?" She asked eagerly, fixing up a frappuccino for a customer that was eavesdropping on us. Yeah, creepy woman, you're not being as stealthy as you think. "Okay- he didn't say that, he said he would just go after him. There's a big difference. And no, I don't know if he was being serious, I sure hope not-"

Stacy let out a dreamy sigh, "I wish my boyfriend would do that." I shot her a glare and she added sulkily, "Right, right, 'he's not your boyfriend' ugh that's so silly. He obviously has the hots for you. Clueless children."

I rolled my eyes in annoyance and said, "I'm gonna go home, my shift is officially over."

She whined as I left, claiming that I was 'depriving her of the tea' even though she sucked all of the information out of me all throughout my shift.

The house was eerily quiet when I got inside. Too quiet. I closed the door behind me gently, my eyes darting around fearfully. He was home. His car was parked outside.

I heard his loud and slow footsteps coming down the stairs. He paused halfway down the stairs and muttered, "You caused a man to lose his job today."

"Th-that wasn't my fault! H-he was threatening s-students-"

"I don't give a sh*t about your friends." He roared, taking another step down the staircase.

"I-I'm sorry, b-but-"

"I'm gonna kill you."

My heart stopped. The blood drained from my face. He...he what? I took a step back right as he took another step down the stairs. He was ground level with me now.

"Dad- y-you're drunk, y-you're n-not thinking s-straight.." I stuttered, holding my hands out protectively in front of my body.

"A man lost his job because of you. Because you couldn't keep your mouth SHUT!! Now, I'm going to make you pay for his sake." He screamed, lunging forward.

My flight reflex kicked in and I ran. I couldn't run towards the door since it was closed and that would take more time to open, and he was also closer to it than I was. So I ran to the kitchen. I screamed, hoping that one of the neighbors would hear. Even if they did, they might not be able to help me on time.

I made it into the small kitchen when he grabbed my shirt collar. I screamed in pure terror and thrashed my arms around, looking for something to use as a weapon. I couldn't die. At least, I didn't want my murderer to be my own father.

I squeezed my eyes shut and struggled against his grip. Finally, my fingers closed on something on the counter and I turned around, blindly hitting him with whatever weapon I had grabbed.

The grip on my shirt tightened for a second, then it loosened. My hand was still clutching whatever I had reached for and when I opened my eyes, another scream escaped my lips.

A knife.

A knife was lodged in my father's chest.

Blood seeped down his chest, staining his shirt. I let go of the knife as he slowly sunk to the floor, his face twisted in pain. He looked up at me with such hatred that I staggered back, choking on a sob. But then his eyes slowly moved away from me as he fell, his hatred turning into fear. He slumped to the ground, the knife still in his chest.

"...Dad?" I whispered, barely able to get the word out of my mouth.

He didn't move.

He didn't breathe.

I sank slowly to the floor, putting my shaky hands on his chest. I couldn't feel his heartbeat. His heart wasn't beating.

Grief hit me in a huge wave. A tsunami.

I started sobbing uncontrollably, moving closer to his body and hugging him. I didn't care that his blood was drenching my clothes and my hands. He wouldn't be bleeding if I hadn't...if I hadn't..

Oh my god.

I killed my father.

A ringing slowly filled my ears until I couldn't hear my racking sobs anymore. My vision blurred because of my tears. I heard the muffled sound of the door breaking down.

I wrenched my eyes away from my father's corpse and looked up to see the elderly couple from next door standing in the doorway, my shabby front door hanging off its hinges.

"Call 911." The woman screamed to her husband. I could barely hear her.

My father was dead.

She slowly walked over to me and said softly, "Sweetie...sweetie we heard you scream."

I sobbed in response.

I pulled him closer to me and wept, "H-he's...not...breathing."

The woman's husband stood beside her and looked down at me. After a few seconds, I heard the faint sound of police sirens, gradually getting louder each second.

The man's arms wrapped around me as he scooped me up, prying me away from my father's body. I held my arms out and screamed, "No, no, DAD!!"

He slowly carried me out of the kitchen and out of the house. I never took my eyes off of my dad's body. Off the blood. Even when we were out the door and all I could see was the soles of his feet, poking out from behind the counter.

He was dead.