Good Morning, Arizona!, Kaleb Richardson [book reader for pc .TXT] 📗

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CiCi and I got to my house where we started to pack up all my shit this time. It’s weird not seeing my car here. It kinda sucks actually. Matter of fact, where is dad’s car? I had Cindy go straight up to my room while I got things arranged downstairs. There were a ton of liquor and beer bottles and cans all over. It worried me about dad. I went into the living room and I saw notes. At least I thought they were notes. I saw they were addressed to two people: ComBox and… mom. They were letters. The ComBox one needed directly delivered to the studios, so I didn’t bother opening that one. I went to open mom’s, but Cindy stopped me.

“Hey Heather, my aunt just texted me and said she saw your dad’s car break into the Gladys’ gate.”

“Oh… shit!”

Oh shit was right. I knew those bottles meant bad news. Dad has been through a lot and I’m worried about what he’d do drunk. Now he’s heading towards the Gladys’. I don’t want him to get himself killed. Especially by them. They’re wealthy and powerful people. I hurried upstairs to finish packing with Cindy. Yes, I know I should be heading straight to where dad is, but I don’t want to return to this house again. This place has my nightmares trapped in it. I want to keep it that way. And we didn’t have too much left anyways, seeing as though I have clothes at the house already. I packed both letters and we headed off. Knowing where my dad is now, something tells me I’ll be moving by the evening. I had to go check on him.

13

As I approached this evil and sinful place. Everything seemed off. It seemed empty. You would think breaking through a wealthy person’s home gate would set off more than multiple alarms. Maybe it did and they were silent. But there’s no cops. No guards. No sirens. The house had a lot of lights on. Must’ve been expecting someone. I ran to the door and it was unlocked. They can’t be this laid back. They’re liars and traitors. I guess they hide it well since I was clueless. Walking through the house, I saw party decorations. Were those the ones from the grad party? Oh, how disgusting that night was. The things Louis and Po did. Unforgivable.

Maneuvering through the rooms with my awareness at its peak. It was silent. I had no idea what to expect within this huge house. It was big. There’s a billiard room. A theatre room. Conservatory. Dining hall. Very reminiscent of that board game. Felt like I was Colonel Mustard going around this place. He was my favorite to play as. There did seem to be gradually more blood on the floor and walls as I went through the home.

Finally, there they were. In the third living room. Louis and Po Gladys. Dead. There was blood all around the room. Cindy and I couldn’t believe what we saw. Po seemed to have been shot in the head and shoulder. Louis has bullet wounds all over. 4 in the chest, 4 more in his stomach. 4 more in both arms. 2 in the head. 14 shots to Louis alone, 16 total. There was blood on the floor; nothing new, but this blood seemed to spell out a message. ‘T’. ‘A’. ‘T’. ‘E’. With an arrow pointing at Louis. Tate was Mr. Gladys? That wonderful therapist of mine. I guess the problems he said he had were never true. Was this whole party thing a plot from the start? Speaking of party, I haven’t thought about Po’s mother since then. Where was she in all of this?

“So. What do you make of all of this?” Cindy asked.

“I-I don’t know.”

“I think they deserved it. But who did it?”

There was an arrow drawn in blood which leads further into the room. It looked as if there were peace signs all over the place. In blood. That’s when we found it.

“Ah! Oh, my god!”

Cindy gasped those words through her mouth. I was speechless. My heart dropped out of my body. I began to howl in tears. I was in pain. I mean, what else do you expect to do when you see your own father dead in front of you. I felt Cindy hug me. I think she was apologizing and being empathetic, but I couldn’t hear it. I was zoned out. Focused. Thinking deeply. I just stood there reminiscing about all the great times I had with my father. He was all I had for as long as I could remember. Mom has always been there, but I was too young to remember her passing. This. This was my parent that I did remember. The one I’ve had a close relationship with my entire life. I’ve been to my great-grandparents and other relatives’ funerals but those were like diseases, illness, accidents, or old age. It’s a different story when you walk into the home of the men who manipulated and sexually tortured you, just to see your own father with a hole in his head. At least it was at his own hands and not theirs. What could’ve driven him to kill himself? Was it all the things that I’ve been through? The things he’s been through? Both?

This was my father. My one and only father. The guardian that I grew up with. The guardian who proved to be a parent and also my best friend when the time was appropriate. I couldn’t stop the tears from pouring down my face. It was like a waterfall from my eyes. It–It couldn’t be real, could it? It had to be a bad dream. Dad… no. Why did this have to happen to you? I need you to guide me. I need to know you’re here.