The Misfortunes of Lolita

22 | when lolita killed

He walked out of his apartment, his feet surprisingly functioning. His jaw was tight, and as Evelyn pressed the elevator button, he had the urge to run and be weak for a fucking second, he wanted to close his eyes and pretend this wasn't happening. Lolita was alright. That muffle in the voicemail could be anything.

They walked out of the elevator, out of the lobby, and into the sheriff's Jeep, and Evelyn sat beside her husband this time. Frank dug his hands into his pockets even more, half because of the call, half because he was shaking, and his fingers hit his phone in his left pocket.

He closed his eyes, playing back every single second of last night, wrapping it around him like a blanket. Things were okay. Things were going to be okay, but not anymore.

Lolita, Lolita, Lolita.

He opened his eyes, taking out his phone, staring at it for a while. Words flew through his mind-Lolita, Lolita, Lolita­-and he looked out the window, the darkness outside that had seemed peaceful just hours ago now seeming treacherous, monstrous, and it was drowning him.

He glanced back at his phone, again, and looked at the back of the sheriff's head, and down his arms, to his fingers that clasped onto the steering wheel too tight.

"Did Talia tell you that Lolita was in trouble?" he asked.

The sheriff glanced at the rearview mirror. "Yes."

Frank's stomach dropped, his heart beating a hundred times faster. That's why she wanted to talk. "She didn't tell you where Lolita is?"

"She doesn't know-"

Frank was already looking for her number in his phone. "Shit."

She picked up after two rings. "Hello?"

"Where is she?" Frank asked.

Talia was quiet for a few seconds. "I don't know, Frank."

"You knew that this was going to happen," he said. "Tell me where she is, Talia."

"I know it was going to happen because I'd overheard a conversation between Robin and Lana. But they didn't say where-"

"Oh, god," Frank's fingers were shaking, violently, and he was never like this. He'd never felt so panicked in his life. "Stop the car."

"Frank-" Evelyn said,

"I need to get out, fuck," he kicked the back of the sheriff's seat, and he stopped the car. Frank fumbled with the lock, and when he opened it, he jumped out of the car.

"Frank!" the sheriff yelled.

"You never believed her," Frank yelled back. "You never believed that something was wrong in school. You always blamed it on her-"

"Frank," Evelyn warned.

"No," he kept yelling. No. "Maybe if you'd fucking listened to your daughter in the past four years-if you'd believed her even for once when she was being bullied and broken and beaten, this wouldn't be happening."

"Frank!" Evelyn shouted. "Stop. It's his daughter. He's hurting too."

Frank put his hands to his face, breathing out his regrets. Stop. Stop. "Find her, okay? I'm. . . I need to breathe."

"Call us if you see anything," Evelyn said, after a few seconds, stopping the sheriff as he began to say something.

Frank stood in the middle of the road, feeling like his head was about to explode.

Robin. And Lana.

Fuck.

He almost wanted to run after the sheriff's carlights which only faded away as he watched. This was his fault. He'd gotten into a fight with Robin. He'd ignored Talia. Fuck, this was his fault in so many ways.