Chapter 2

When I was sixteen, I was a sophomore in high school.

My parents were always out of town running their business, and my grandma was too old to look after me.

So my mom came back to our small town, rented an apartment for me, and stayed with me for a few months.

Because she had been away for so long, and I was at that sensitive, awkward teenage phase, we barely spoke. We weren’t close at all.

I went to school; she focused on her work.

I usually came home late, but because she had to meet clients, negotiate prices, and go to business dinners, she came home even later.

Once, I felt like someone was stalking me on my way home. I told her about it and asked her to pick me up after school.

She promised she would, but she flaked.

I waited for her at school until midnight. A massive thunderstorm hit.

I couldn’t find anywhere to hide from the rain, so I had to run all the way home through the storm.

That night, the nightmare happened.

While taking a shortcut through a dark alley, the stalker jumped out and tackled me to the ground.

The pouring rain and loud thunder swallowed my screams.

When I finally stumbled back home, I was covered in half rain, half blood.

My mom was fast asleep on the couch, the living room smelling heavily of alcohol.

"Vivian?"

Woken up by the metallic smell of blood, my mom opened her eyes.

When she saw what I looked like, she sobered up instantly. She threw her arms around me and sobbed hysterically.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry..."

"Vivian..."

"It’s all my fault. It’s all my fault!"

She said she was on her way to get me, but then a supplier offered her a drink, and she thought she could get a cheaper deal if she stayed.

She thought I’d be fine.

Ha.

Maybe because of the physical pain, or maybe because of the burning hatred, I pushed her away. I didn't want her to touch me.

I only said one word: "911."

My mom started crying even harder.

"We can’t call the cops!"

"Vivian, if we call the cops, everyone in this town will know! How will you face people at school? What about your future? Your college applications?"

"Mom is here, okay?"

"I won’t leave anymore. I’ll stay here and protect you..."

But less than three months later, she was brutally murdered.

With her death, I thought that nightmare would stay buried forever.

But my dad had found out.

He slammed a worn, wrinkled notebook onto the table. "Your mother kept a diary. Before she died, she wrote down all the important things."

"She was afraid someone would find it, so she locked it in a metal box and hid it. It survived the fire, and now I have it."

My dad grabbed my collar again, shaking me. "Your mom made a mistake, but she didn't mean to! She didn't call the cops because she wanted to protect your reputation!"

"How could you kill her for that?"

"Are you even human?"

My dad’s screams made my ears ring.

Beside us, Leo didn’t try to stop him this time. Instead, with trembling hands, he picked up the diary from the table.

It was indeed my mom's neat handwriting.

She had written about her guilt and how her negligence had led to my assault.

There were smudges on the paper, likely from her tears. I could feel her deep, agonizing regret in every word.

Leo finished reading, wiped his eyes, and said with a shaky voice, "David, calm down."

"Even with this... it doesn't prove Vivian is the killer."

"My sister was stabbed over thirty times, and there were signs of sexual assault. Vivian couldn't have done that."

Leo pushed my dad away, grabbing my hands with pleading eyes. "Vivian, did you hold a grudge against your mom, so you’re hiding the killer to punish her? Is that why you won't help us find him?"

"I swear to God, Vivian, if you just tell us who did it so your mom can rest in peace, I will get him myself!"

"I’ll carve up the bastard who hurt you with my own hands!"

Leo’s eyes were bloodshot, his gaze so intense I had to look away.

Before I could react, my dad let out another bitter laugh.

"You won't need to do that. That piece of trash is already dead. And Vivian probably killed him!"

"The police are already investigating. We’ll have answers soon."

"Vivian, I don’t want to throw my own daughter in prison."

"But I can’t let Susan rest in an unmarked grave of injustice. You forced my hand!"