Not Who You Say You Are

Chapter Twenty-Six

I sit clutching the Polaroid for a few minutes in silence. My mouth is dry and my eyes are unblinking. I am looking at the photo but I can't see it. I've zoned out and my vision is all muddled. My mind is racing around in circles, constantly asking questions but not being able to answer them. Everything is a blur. My confusion and pure disgust interweave seamlessly inside my stomach, each playing off the other. My confusion about the photo and what it all means, and my disgust at what I think it means. Then, of course, my confusion as to why I am so disgusted, and my disgust as to why I'm so very confused. Everything is laid out clearly in front of me, I have no reason to be uncertain. My father is taking a photo of himself smiling next to the body of Reggie. I think it's pretty clear.

My eyes dart back to the leather duffel bag, now on top of the bed. Does it mean every single person in those Polaroids was a victim of my father? How? How could someone do that? How could that same person be my father? My kind, gentle father. The father who refuses to kill a bug in the house and insists on taking it outside. How could that same man be responsible for the horrific murders of over a dozen people? Sure, he had his outbursts but he never got physical. He never genuinely scared Ivy or me. This has to be a mistake. This can't be real. But every person in that duffel bag might disagree. I want more than anything to walk away from this and continue with my life, but I've seen them. I've seen the bodies of the fifteen victims lost to the Ocean Drive Butcher. I've unwillingly solved a case that has been cold for thirty years. I can't just turn away from it.

"Theo?", Ivy calls from downstairs.

That's when the tears come. Hearing her voice so unaware, so excited to go home, makes me want to ignore the photos even more. If I do, it's over. We can just leave. But no. This night will never end. Even if we do get off the island, we will always be haunted by these events. I will always know that my father is a serial killer. I will be terrified for the rest of my life that somehow that evil, violent DNA will fester in me and I won't be able to control it. For some reason, every life I have taken tonight wasn't difficult. I didn't think twice about it. I had chalked it up to being in self-defence, but what if it's more? What if it's just part of me? Maybe it's who I am. But Ivy is different. She has a chance. She has the advantage of blissful ignorance. I know it won't work though. I will never be able to look at my father the same way. I'd stop going home. My relationship with Ivy would deteriorate and eventually end. Is that better than the alternative? Sharing the secret that will take away our father. She already lost so much respect for Mom. Mom. Does she know? Is she- Is she a part of this too?

"Coming!", I call back.

I don't know the truth, but I refuse to learn it on this island with nowhere to go. So, I pocket the Polaroid, making a promise to myself that when we get to the mainland, I will hand it over to the police. I will do right by the people in the Polaroids and destroy my family. I stand up from the floor and walk into the hallway. Not only am I limping but my mind is still racing, and I feel myself swaying side to side. It's the feeling you get when you stand up too quickly, but this one isn't going away. I stumble through the darkness to the top of the stairs and force myself to calm down. It's hard but my vision regains slight composure, but it takes too much energy, so I sit down on the top step. It's easier to see now. Miles and Ivy are down in the foyer, my mother and father are nowhere to be seen. The two of them ascend the stairs and sit next to me, both knowing that something is wrong.

"Are you okay?", Miles asks me. I don't respond, I don't know how to form words. How did I used to do it so easily?

"Theo?", Ivy can't conceal her concern. "I used the police radio, more officers are coming. We get to go home".