Help Me Remember (COMPLETED)

Chapter 42 Part 2

Even in the dark, the impatience showed through, "It's just rain. Go back to your room."

And I stood there still. Too scared to do just that. I looked up at her with wide eyes, pleading.

"What?" she snapped.

"Can I sleep in your room, mommy?"

There was a laugh from behind mommy. A man's. And when I looked past mommy's legs, there was a stranger sitting on the bed. He wasn't wearing a shirt. And he was smiling, looking at me.

I'd never seen him before.

"Can't sleep in this storm, little girl? It's pretty noisy, yeah?"

I stepped back. Daddy taught me never to talk to strangers. Instead, I looked back at my mom.

She rolled her eyes, "Just go back to your room."

Mom had dragged me out of the room. She picked up the teddy bear and pushed it into my arms. Then the door was shut in my face.

I couldn't sleep that night.

The next day, my daddy returned from his trip. And I told him about the stranger in their bedroom.

The day after that, mommy was gone. And daddy became sad.

Looking back, I was so confused by her sudden absence. I repeatedly asked my father where she was and he would always give me that pained look. The house staff talked about her when they thought I couldn't hear.

And as if finally getting tired of my questions, Daddy answered me with, "She left, baby. It's just Daddy and Scarlett now. Be a good girl and don't ask about her again, okay?"

I'd never asked him again. Daddy became very busy after that. He was always busy.

And I never understood the full extent of her betrayal until today. Yes, the article about me was taken down, but new articles were surfacing—about my mom. About her lifestyle. The men. How my father would clean up after her mess. Then she upped and left when daddy confronted her with what I saw. I could imagine I heard the muffled argument they had in that same bedroom I saw the stranger in.

The sad thing is I knew how legitimate those horrible stories were. I'd never consciously thought of her. She evoked heavy feelings that I didn't want to feel.

And that article about me, they'd connected it to my mother's behavior and suddenly, it made "sense".

My father had assumed the worst.

He actually believed it.

How could things get this bad so quickly?

I heard the click as the look on my door was opened from the outside. And the heavy wood was swung open. I thought it would be the maid, handing me my dinner, but the person standing there made me stand up.

"Get dressed. We're going out."

"D-dad, it's not what you think."

There was something held tightly in his fist, and it was thrown at my feet.

A newspaper with our family name splashed on the first page.

"Does it look like it matters what I think, Scarlett?" He still wouldn't look at me.

I stared at the man, gathering my thoughts, my courage. Steadying my voice, "But you still have to listen to—"

"I don't want to listen to your excuses." That quickly shut me up. I stared at my dad and finally, he looked at me, "What are you still standing there for? I told you to get dressed!"