The Truth About Unspeakable Things by Emily Myers (novel24 txt) 📕

“If you do this, you’ll be giving up everything and for what? A few assholes beyond bars?” My father asks. “More are born every day.”

I nod. His words only make me even more determined to follow through on my plan.

“Well, then, I guess I better get started. You know, to keep up with the number of assholes being born,” I tell him.

At that, I back away, grab my duffle bag and . . .

“Oh, and Carrington,” I say. “I’m not the problem. You are.”

* * *

“Emma? You’re leaving so soon?” my mother asks. “It’s almost midnight. You can’t drive all the way to New Orleans in the dark. Why don’t you just stay one more night?” she begs.

I feel bad for leaving her, I do. But I can’t stay one more night in this house. And to be honest, I wish she wouldn’t either.

“I can’t, Mom. I—I wish we could talk more. I really enjoyed spending time with you this weekend, but . . .” I exhale.

“Emma, what’s wrong?” she asks.

I glance behind me. There’s no one there. Still, I don’t want my father to think for one second that my mother knows the truth. It would only put her in even more danger. And while he may not be willing to kill me, I can’t say the same for her.

“Come here, Mom,” I say, pulling her in for a hug. As she embraces me, I slip a copy of the jump drive into her pocket. “You need to pack a bag and get out,” I whisper. “You’re not safe here.”

As I pull away from her, I make sure she’s aware of the insurance I’m leaving her with. She moves her hand to her pocket and confusion washes over her.

“Take care, Mom. Come visit me soon.”

Chapter 28

My fingers twitch over the keys of my laptop. It’s done. With the last bit of evidence I gathered in Presley, I made it home and finished my article. Now, all I have to do is hit send and come 9:00 a.m. tomorrow morning, it will be published across the digital pages of The Hub’s website. So why can’t I hit submit?

My dad tried calling me five times between the time I left Presley and made it back to New Orleans. I didn’t answer. I did listen to his voicemails, though. He left four begging me to stay quiet. He assured me that one person would not punish the crimes of the many. What he doesn’t understand is that I don’t represent my own selfish interests in this matter. Sure, I used to. But that’s before I realized how truly widespread this issue and the predatory actions of a select group of men is. This organization exists in my city and in many more cities across the country. But it is not the only one of its kind. It can’t be. My father doesn’t understand how one voice can so quickly become many.

When he finally accepted that I wasn’t entertaining his pleas, he left a final voicemail, apologizing. He apologized for what he’s done, for what happened to me, and for not protecting me from Beaux. Apparently, he was more afraid of what Beaux would do if he forced him to stop dating me than what he would do if we continued dating. Still, I’m not sure if he was referring to what Beaux would do to me or him.

Despite all of this, I’d be lying if I said my father didn’t cause some hesitation in me. As much as I hate him for what he’s done and the fact that he never said he planned on stopping, or offered to help me in my efforts, he’s still my father. He’s the man who I’ve looked up to my entire life, despite my jaded childhood and sudden departure after high school.

And then there’s Mason. I didn’t watch his video, not that it would’ve changed my opinion of him in any positive way. But I do give him credit for trying to be better. I thank him for helping me out of Club Gent and for caring about Julian the way he does. And, I know, the fact that his name will be turned in along with my father’s and Beaux’s probably won’t help my efforts to make things up to Julian. But none of that excuses his past mistakes. And as much as I would like to spare him for the sake of mine and Julian’s future, it’s not my forgiveness that Mason needs.

I exhale and with resolve, click submit. Now the whole world will know about me, Beaux, and the brotherhood. I thought it would feel more cathartic, more freeing. Instead, I feel nauseous.

“It’s done?” Kat asks, popping her head through my bedroom door.

“Yeah. It’s done,” I breathe. I shut my laptop down and set it on my nightstand. Kat nods and comes to sit beside me on the bed.

“Do you think Fran will be mad you used The Hub for a personal story?” Kat asks.

“Kat,” I say. “Fran is the least of my worries and yours. Are you all set to stay with Demetri?”

“Yeah,” Kat nods, falling back against the sheets. “I have things for about a week. If I need to stay away for longer, I’ll just use a laundromat or buy something new.”

“Good,” I say pulling my knees into my chest.

We both sit in silence.

I don’t know when I’ll next see Kat. My father may be wrong about many things, but one thing is for sure. Beaux will come for me. And when he does, Kat can’t be anywhere within his reach. She’s leaving the city with Demetri tonight. I don’t know where they’re going. I think it’s better that way.

“Emma,” Kat says.

“Don’t say it,” I tell her.

“Don’t say what?” she asks, sitting up straight.

I bite my lip, refusing to look at her. “Don’t say goodbye,” I finally say.

“Oh, Emma,” Kat says. She pulls me into her arms, and I rest my head against her shoulder.

In truth, I don’t know what’s going to happen. I don’t