I sat outside engulfed by the thoughts of my dad’s diary. We stopped reading after week forty-two. Ben thought I needed a break, and I couldn’t blame him. After my dad’s confession I thought I was going to have an anxiety attack. I read a few more pages on my own and then I just couldn’t read anymore.
My dad killed someone. Correction, he ate a defenseless girl, and then he tried to kill himself.
And the freaky part is they both happened a few days apart from the twins’ birthday. The torment my dad must have been going through reliving what he had done every day. Did he ever regret trying to kill himself? If he had succeeded I would have never had those few months with him.
I didn’t know what to feel but the one thing I knew is that I was pissed off!
He had tried to kill himself. He
