“Have you seen this man?” That´s what they asked, and I denied it. But I had seen that man, he was in my closet, and he was my father. It happened some months ago, when I got back from school, my father was alone in the house, which was strange as he usually is at his job until nightfall. He told me that mom had run away after she did something wrong, and whatever she did was pinned of my father. He´s been hiding ever since.
My father is a nice man, my mom was too. They adopted me from the streets about two years ago, and my life went from homeless to a warm meal, a soft bed, and a loving home. Things have changed now. Father is still as kind as always, but warier of his surroundings.
We moved from our neighborhood house to an empty apartment, but I was ok with that, after all, after dad came from a hunting trip he left the basement smelling like dead deer and no Febreze could take that smell away. One day the police came to ask questions and father hid away. In a moment of curiosity, I finally asked what that man was being wanted for. Their answer froze me in place.
“He murdered his wife”
Everything clicks in my mind. Father wasn’t really the hunting type, in fact, I was surprised when he told me about it. Moving from home, hiding away, and mother´s mysterious disappearance. I couldn’t believe that, but it all makes sense.
The police noticed my nervousness.
“Do you know this man?” they asked, once again showing me my father´s picture.
What was I supposed to do? Giving father away and give mom justice? And go back to the streets and hellish foster care? Or lie, once again?
Mom, she was so kind and loving. Why would he kill her? She was his wife. She was my mother.
Am I up to live a life of running away? How am I supposed to look at my father and not think about his crime?
A life of unanswered questions.
I took a deep breath, while tears fell from my eyes.
“I know that man. He is in my closet, and he is my father.”
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