[⋆˙🔦⟡] vanessa oneshots

coward

"I love you." He says as she leaves, closing the door behind her, ignoring her own father. She knows he's lying, no one- would do this to their own daughter. I love you too, dad. She forces herself to think, like he could hear her, only standing in front of the door she just left from, looking down at the pathway.

Vanessa's life is simple, she's blonde, green eyes, only child, her father is the only family she has, he was retired and now a career counselor, and he might have killed her friends when she was a kid. Mike's brother, too.

It makes her sick to her stomach. The red plane she had loved so dearly.

Their deaths were her fault for not obeying him, which is why she's indebted to him. Her father had convinced her.

She shakes her head. He's not getting into her head, and he never will.

It's been 10 years. Exactly 10 years. She realizes, getting in the car, fixing the rear view mirror, stealing a glance at her reflection and she hates how she could see him.

And she's driving to the pizzeria with her police car, arriving when it's almost midnight. She gets out of the car, and it's always the same. Walk to the entrance, toggle the breaker then tidy the place up-

This time, it's different. She stands infront of the drawings on the wall, recognizing the children on the doodles and she thinks, it's not my fault, it's not my fault, it's not my fault. But the sound lingers, it still echoes in her mind. Laughing, turning into screams and she knows she will never forget it.

She has to do this. She justifies herself.

She's a coward for not standing up to her own father. She knows it. She's selfish, only putting up with her father for her own safety.

Sorry.

She mutters out, more like an apology to herself. But it wasn't enough, nothing will be enough, for him, for her.

And her head spins and she can't do it anymore and the lights hurt her eyes, her clothes itch, and she's about to throw up. Everything feels heavy.

It's not real. He wouldn't do this. He loves me, she glances to the yellow rabbit on the wall.

Do you, dad?

She knows the answer, but she still asks, knowing he will never admit it.