That Boy by Emily Vains
It’s been bothering my dad for as long as I can remember. I don’t know what it is that’s so hard to let go. He usually tells me his troubles. He’s always reading the same article in the newspaper, looking so confused. This has dragged on for so long it has affected my concentration. I always try to talk to him, but he always tells me, “It is nothing…”
Ding, ding, ding. Finally! This day has seemed to go on forever, like a never ending rollercoaster, just like my life! On the weekend I plan to stop this confusion in my dad’s head, once and for all.
I got home that day and I heard nothing, saw nothing, the house was empty… I walked out the back and found my dad, staring out at the view of the horse paddocks, where we all used to ride, until, mum died. He used to laugh and was always happy. Then mum got terribly sick and… died, well that is at least the story my dad told me. Since then, our world turned upside down.
“What’s going on, why is everything gone?”
“It’s for the better, we’re moving to Perth, for a better life.”
“I’ve packed your bags our flight’s in 3 hours,”
I was so confused…ANGRY! But my dad looked terrible so I just went along with it.
Our flight was four hours but it was delayed for 3 hours. AHHHH! I was sitting next to dad but we didn’t talk much. I fell asleep for a couple of hours then read my book. There was a strange boy sitting in the aisle across. Dad kept on staring at him and I nudged him to stop. Now dad looked angry and started to get fidgety. I tried to calm him down but he wouldn’t listen.
“Dad stop you’re embarrassing me!”
“I don’t like that boy, I tell ya!”
“How would you know you haven’t even met him.”
“Yes, but I know exactly who he is!”
After the flight I saw the boy. He didn’t have any family with him, he looked like he was 12. Actually come to think of it he looks like the boy in the article. I’m not sure actually, I just got to see the pictures…
We got to our hotel, where we were staying for two weeks, before we moved in. It was 10:00pm so bed time for me! The same car kept on following us on our way home. Maybe they were going to this hotel, who knows.
“ROSIE! HELP! TRIPLE ZERO!”
I got up and ran to the phone dialled triple zero and ran down stairs into Dad’s room. I found the newspaper article, but no dad. I broke down into tears. I may as well read the newspaper. It said: “Felicity, mum of Rosie, wife of James. Murdered in her home by 12 year old boy, never to be seen again…”
“THAT’S MUM! THAT BOY! What about dad? Has he killed dad too?”