¹𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐑,, billy loomis & stu macher | ✔︎

07, the secret

F L I C K E R
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CHAPTER SEVEN, the secret
" Isn't it lovely, all alone, heart made of glass, my mind of stone, tear me to pieces, skin to bone, hello, welcome home "
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MAY 13TH, 1994

The rain beat steadily against the windshield, a fast pattern that matched the tension inside the car. Fifteen-year-old Kathryn sat in the backseat, her arms crossed over her chest, blood still boiling from the events earlier that day. The fight had started over something stupid—some stupid boy at school picking on a girl who didn't deserve it. Kathryn is a hothead and had lost her temper, and one punch was all it took to get her expelled.

Her mother, Erica, gripped the steering wheel so tightly that her knuckles were white. Her red-painted lips were pressed into a thin line, and the look on her face told Kathryn everything she needed to know: This wasn't about the fight anymore. It was about her reputation. About appearances.

"I can't believe you, Kathryn. Fighting? Do you know how embarrassing this is for me? For us?" Erica's voice was sharp, cutting through the steady rhythm of the rain. "Do you even think about what your actions say about me as a parent? Or what it does to our family name?"

Kathryn rolled her eyes, staring out the rain-smeared window, muttering, "It wasn't about you. He was a jerk, and he deserved it."

"You don't get to decide that!" Erica snapped, her voice rising as the car sped on the wet road. "You think this kind of behavior is acceptable? That it won't follow you around for the rest of your life?"

Her father sat silently in the passenger seat, half-turned away from the argument playing out between his wife and daughter as he stared blankly out the window. Kathryn could smell the faint scent of alcohol on him—whiskey, his usual. He hadn't said much when he'd picked her up, only grumbling about the inconvenience of it all, but his patience was running thin. After all, it was him who Kathryn inherited her anger issues from.

"She's just a kid," John muttered, not even looking at his wife. "Let her be. The boy was being an ass. I don't see the problem."

Erica turned her glare from Kathryn to John. "You don't see the problem? Of course, you don't. You never see the problem. This is why she's out of control because you refuse to discipline her."

Kathryn rolled her eyes at that one.

John shifted in his seat, finally turning to face Erica. His voice was slow, and a little slurred. "Discipline? She doesn't need discipline, Erica. She needs you to stop riding her all the damn time."

"Oh, don't you dare lecture me on parenting. You're never around anyway," Erica spat back, her eyes darting from the road to John in brief, furious glances. "When was the last time you actually cared about anything she did? You barely notice when she walks in the door."

Kathryn shifted uncomfortably in her seat, the weight of their argument pressing down on her chest. This wasn't new. Her parents had been fighting like this for as long as she could remember, but tonight felt different. The rain, the slowly rising fog, the tension—it all put her on edge.

John snorted, leaning back in his seat as if he couldn't be bothered with the conversation anymore. "You're so full of it, Erica. Always thinking you're better than everyone. Newsflash, it's not all about you, woman!"

Erica's grip tightened on the wheel, her eyes narrowing. "I'm not doing this for me, John. I'm doing this because our daughter is a disobedient brat, and you refuse to see it!"

Kathryn's heart pounded as their voices grew louder, more vicious. She wanted to say something, to make them stop, but her throat felt tight, and the words wouldn't come.

"I don't care," John said, his voice laced with irritation. "She's fine. It's you who needs to back off."

"Of course, you don't care!" Erica shot back, her voice trembling with anger. "You never cared. Not about her, not about us, not about anything but yourself and your damn alcohol!"

Kathryn could see John's jaw clench, his grip tightening on the armrest. His eyes flickered toward Erica, filled with a dangerous mix of frustration and something else—something darker. "Watch your mouth, Erica."

"Or what?" Erica challenged, her voice venomous. "You'll do something about it? For once in your life, you'll take responsibility?"

The car swerved slightly as John leaned closer, his words low and threatening. "You're pushing it, bitch."

Erica scoffed. "You're pathetic."

In an instant, John's hand shot out, grabbing the steering wheel.

The car jerked to the side, and Kathryn felt her stomach drop as the tires skidded on the slick pavement. Her heart raced, panic rising in her throat.

"Dad!" she screamed, gripping the seat in front of her as the car veered off the road.

But it was too late.

The world spun as the car careened off the road, crashing into the trees that lined the highway. The impact was brutal. Kathryn felt her body slam against the seatbelt, her head whipping back, a sharp pain shooting through her skull. The sound of metal crunching and glass shattering filled her ears, and then... Silence...

Kathryn blinked, her vision blurred as rain poured through the broken windshield. Her ears were ringing, and the world felt distant, like she was watching it happen to someone else. Slowly and painfully, she turned her head to the front seat.

Her mother wasn't moving.

"Mom?" Kathryn croaked, her voice barely a whisper. "Mom?"

But Erica didn't respond. The lifeless silence in the front seat sent a wave of dread crashing over her. She reached out, her fingers trembling, but before they could reach Erica, John's voice cut through the haze.

"Kathryn," he rasped, his voice low, threatening. "You don't say a word about this. Do you hear me?"

Kathryn's heart pounded in her chest, her gaze flicking to her father. His eyes were bloodshot, filled with fury and guilt. She swallowed the lump in her throat, the weight of the moment pressing down on her like a suffocating blanket.

"I said, do you hear me!" John repeated, his voice louder and colder than the rain pouring down around them.

Kathryn nodded numbly, her eyes drifting back to her mother's still form. The rain continued to fall, slowly washing her mother's blood, and everything away—except the guilt that would follow her forever.

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