Tainted Love | ✓

Chapter Twenty-Five

"What are you hiding from me?"

The words from his letter were stuck in my throat, somehow preventing me from talking. As my father stood there with concerned eyes, my own eyes brimmed with a glossy layer of tears. Instantly alarmed, he rested a gentle hand on my shoulder.

"Naomi?" he implored, "What's wrong? Did something happen?"

I sucked in a trembling breath, knowing this wasn't something I could keep from him. I had done enough of secret-keeping over the past few weeks and I wasn't going to let him corner and terrify me again. Despite how long it had taken me, I had found my voice and he wasn't going to be able to take that away from me again - especially not with a letter.

Removing my hands from behind my back, my father's gaze slid down to the crumpled letter in my hand. Time seemed to slow down around me and he quirked an inquisitive brow at me.

"What's that?"

"I found it on our porch this morning," I said, my voice hollow and empty sounding, ". . .It's from Tyler."

At the mention of his name, father's eyes grew a few inches larger, and without a second thought he snatched the letter from my hand. I stood, my body limp, while his eyes skimmed over the note, reading each and every word. Anger flared in his eyes the more he read, and his nostrils flared once he had gotten to the bottom. For a moment, his eyes squeezed shut and he stepped away from me, reaching up to wipe at the corners of his eyes.

"Dad?" I murmured, unsure of what to do when he fell silent.

"Just a moment," he choked back; his voice thick with emotion.

It was hard for me to see my father like that - unable to even cope with what was going on. He started to pace around on the porch, seemingly trying to organize his line of thought. Peaked trenches lined his forehead, making him look a lot older than he actually was. I noticed his hands were now shaking - from anger or sadness, I didn't know.

"Go meet Toby," he croaked after a few moments, "I'll head down to the station and submit this in. You know you've got your mock interview this evening - don't forget."

Inspector Nathaniel had arranged for a brief meeting of sorts. where they would begin to prepare me for the upcoming case. I didn't turn down his offer and eagerly accepted any kind of help I was offered.

However, of course, I couldn't stop the flow of negative thoughts and emotions that flooded in. Why was it, that I always seemed to make life harder for my parents? Why couldn't I just have been the perfect daughter? While the logical side of my brain was telling me that none of what was happening was my fault, it didn't ease the impending feeling of guilt on my chest.

Eyes downcast, I whispered, "I'm sorry, dad."

His sorrowful eyes met mine, clouded with confusion at my words.

"Why are you apologizing, sweetheart?" he sniffled, "You didn't do anything."

"I just. . . I don't know," I trailed off with a harsh tug on the roots of my hair, "I just can't stop feeling like this is all my fault, okay? And I know you're going to tell me it's not, but that doesn't change the fact that this is how I feel."

Silence ensued between us after my words and even though my father's mouth opened and closed, no words were coming out. He didn't know what to say, nor did he know how to offer me a sense of comfort right now. It wasn't his fault - I knew him and mother were both struggling, neither of them really knowing how to cope. A bitter smile crossed my lips and I stepped further away, hiking my bag further up my shoulder.

"I'll see you later dad," I sighed and lifted my hand up in a small wave. His face crumpled, and he looked more helpless than I had ever seen him. His hair was sticking up in a dozen different directions, and his face simply looked worn and drawn.