“Seriously? His watch?” she laughed. “Even after his death, Dad still has his favorites.”
I didn’t answer. I held the watch in my hands, my fingers swept over the leather strap that still bore its faint scent. The house, the possessions – all that meant nothing to me now. My biggest wish was to get my father back.
But then the real nightmare began.
The next few days we lived under one roof, but there was no connection between us. I went to school. I worked in the cafe. I returned home to the bleak silence of a house that no longer felt like a home.
But then, one night, everything changed. I came home and found my things packed outside the door. My guitar, my clothes, my books – everything was stuffed in suitcases. Charlotte stood in the hallway with her arms crossed and an eerie smile in his face.
“That’s it,” she said with played cheerfulness in her voice. “Our paths are parting, Dawn. You have to go.”
I blinked slowly, as if I was about to wake up from a nightmare. “What?” I asked in an barely audible voice.
“You already understood me,” she said, pointing to the bags. “This house is mine now. The lawyer said it. I don’t care about you anymore.”
