Confess What, Daddy?

Caroline Scottsize}

Confess what, Daddy?

         My mom and dad were married when my mother was the tender age of seventeen. She was so sure Dad loved her. I was born nine months later. The named me Priscilla, but to my dad, I was Prissy.
         I guess I was around four when terrible things started happening to our little family. Mom had said that I was going to have a little brother or sister. I was bouncing off the walls and squealing so loud that Chip, our family dog, whined and tried to cover his ears. Mom smiled, all was well that day.
         A few weeks later, however, Chip was pawing at the bathroom door. I walked over and knocked.
âMommy?â I asked
When I got no reply, I pressed my ear to the door. Muffled sobbing met my ears.
âMommy?â I tried again. Still no reply. I could see what I now know is watered down blood seeping in from under the door.
âPriscilla, go to your roomâ my dad said, cell phone already to his ear. I gulped, scared, curious as to what was happened. Dad hardly ever called me Prisiclla. But I did as I was told.
         My mom became distant after that. She didnât read me bedtime stories or sing in the church choir anymore. I could never pin point what was wrong with her. She justâ¦wasnât the same. One day when I asked my dad what happened, he just replied with,
âYouâll learn when youâre olderâ
I wish he had told me then.
         Ten years later, when I was fourteen, my parents separated. I was going through some thing my dad had left behind, when I found an old book titled âInterview with the Vampire.â I remember my dad reading this when I was a kid. As I flipped through it, I found a list.
         As my eyes scanned it, I found it consisted of things like âTake care of Prissyâ and âHelp Mandyâ (Mandy was my mother) All were checked. Except the last word on the listâ¦
CONFESS
         I blinked, confused. Why did he put that there? What did he need to confess? I set the book and list aside, shuffled some more items around when I saw something. A picture. I lifted it out and when I really looked at it. My breath caught in my throat. The picture was my father and a woman that was not my mother. And they seemed to be sharing a passionate kissâ¦.
         I threw the book, list, and picture back into the box and slammed the lid onto it. I shoved the box under the bed with so much force that it slammed into the wall. I hoped it dented it.
         I thought about the picture. Is that what he needed to confess!? I couldnât believe it! I didnât want to believe it!
I never opened the box againâ¦