Page 36 of Ethan's Sky

Something feelswrong.

Your father was murdered. What should feel right about that, Sky?

I take a few deep breaths and settle myself down. I’m feeling the weight of everything. I need to do something. Occupy myself with something. Keep busy.

I dig through my purse and find the small zipper pocket where I keep the necklace daddy bought me shortly after mama died. It has a butterbean charm he had made especially for me. I open the clasp of the necklace and add their rings to the butterbean charm then put the necklace back in the pocket, placing his chain in the pocket beside mine.

I’ll ask my uncle when I see him.

Walking into the bathroom, I turn on the faucet, splashing cold water on my face. I grab the grey hand towel off the rack, wiping the water away. Turn off the faucet, about to put the towel back on the rack when something else catches my eye.

There’s a picture of me when I was fourteen on the mirror. It was my first high school dance. I went with Emily after the Homecoming game. It’s the one Daddy kept on the dash in his truck. The edges are worn, and the photo faded from years of being in the extreme heat and humidity over the years.

I remember the night he took the photo. I had never worn a dress so beautiful before. I didn’t like playing dress up as a child. Daddy was so stunned; he couldn’t stop taking pictures. I loved the plum-colored dress Liz had bought for me. It was nothing real fancy compared to what some of the other girls in school were wearing, but I felt like a princess in it.

It was a scoop neck bodice fitting to the waist, with a swirl pattern made of tiny silver rhinestones seem like fireworks glittering across the fabric. Liz chose the dress because the color made my violet eyes pop and the neckline was a little higher than most, which she said would preserve my modesty. The flowing skirt hung just above my knee, and the silver heals I wore were the icing on the cake.

By the time Liz was done curling my hair and doing my make-up I was holding back tears. I missed Mama, but I knew she was smiling down on me. Daddy must’ve felt the same way because when I walked into the living room to take pictures, he had tears in his eyes too.

Bracing the edges of the counter with one hand and wiping the stray tear from my eye with the other, I try to will away the ache in my chest.

Breathe, Sky. You must be stronger than this.

Why would Daddy have the picture in here? It’s been in his truck taped to the dash since the day he got it printed. Even when he traded his truck in and purchased a new one, the picture went on to the new dash. I tried to give him a more recent picture, but he didn’t think it was wise. Instead, he kept the same, faded photo with him everywhere he went.

He was on a run the last few days. The picture should’ve been in the truck. But instead, it’s here, just like the wedding rings he’d never parted with.

What the hell is going on?

Panic starts to grip my throat, like tight fingers squeezing tight as my heartrate begins to climb.

I start opening the drawers and the medicine cabinet scouring through his things. I don’t know what I’m looking for. But there must be something to explain what the hell is going on. Daddy knew he was going to die. He knew we were never going to see each other again. He said as much when he told me he wouldn’t make our date on the phone.

He must’ve known someone was coming for him, but why? It’s the only reason I can think of that would make him leave these things behind.

Me.

To leave me behind.

I close everything up, and make my way back through the bedroom, running my fingers along his old wooden dresser. He still has the photo of Mama and Me when I was four. It was Halloween. She was dressed as a witch, and I was her little black cat. She loved everything about the Fall, but Halloween went right along with her pumpkin fascination. We celebrated it every year come rain or shine.

On the other side of the dresser is a photo of Daddy holding me in his lap on the front porch swing when I was even younger. A little over a year old maybe. It’s another Halloween picture. Daddy was dressed as a farmer in his straw hat and overalls, and I was his butter bean in the costume my Mama sewed for me. It’s where he got my nickname from.

Get off memory lane, Sky. It’s not going to do you any good right now.

Deciding I should get my head cleared before I get lost in my emotions again, I head into my old room and grab some clothes from my duffel bag.

I don’t’ bother to look around, it’ll only serve to derail my focus and steer me down another road full of heartache and memories. I don’t need to remember my past, right now, I need to run from it.

All of it.

“I need to go for a run,” I tell the empty room. Decision made, I grab my jogging shorts, sports bra and a low-cut tank top and get changed in record time. My sneakers were left in Daddy’s room next to the bed. My purse is still on the chair where I found Daddy’s shirt earlier. I start digging through the inside pockets of my bag for my cordless headphones and the old iPod Cash recently bought for me since I only ever use burner phones.

I lace up my shoes, tuck my iPod into my pocket, put my headphones in with my playlist blasting and head for the kitchen. I’m shocked when I open and find a fully stocked refrigerator. I know I told Blake to help himself yesterday, but I assumed there would be a couple beers and water in here. Daddy always kept drinks stocked, but food was something we had to get after we arrived. There’s popcorn and stuff to make smores, coffee, and some canned food. Staple foods. Non-perishable stuff. But this is a fully stocked fridge. Either he planned on me coming here, or Daddy was staying here himself. Which makes zero sense.

Not wanting to get trapped in my head and feeling the weight of this shit pressing in on me again, I grab a cold water bottle and head for the back door. I have a clear plan to run myself to exhaustion and head out the back door toward the trails.

When I reach the back porch of the house a while later, I’m shocked by the loud voices I hear coming from inside. I lost track of time. I ran until my legs were about to give out.

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