Aftermath
Part Two: Bad Reactions
The Hebert house was still and silent, save for the restless movements upstairs in the main bedroom.
Downstairs, there was evidence that all was not well. One of the kitchen chairs lay broken against the wall, beneath the mark of its impact on the wall, at head height. Small ornaments in the living room were shattered, including the TV, which had the remote still protruding from a ragged hole in the screen. Back in the kitchen, broken glass lay on the ground beneath a large splash-mark, perhaps tomato paste, on the wall.
Danny Hebert tried to sleep. He managed to do anything but. His motions as he tossed and turned were erratic, driven by his inner torment.
In the one moment, he saw Taylor as she had been, happy, smiling, laughing. Then in the next, he saw her still, lifeless body on the morgue table, eyes closed, the small cut on her forehead. And in the third, his imagination took over, seeing her as she would have been in the locker, screaming, hitting the door, crying out for him. And he never came for her.
I failed her. When she most needed me, I failed her.
He remembered the confrontation ...
"What do you mean,you don't know?"
Principal Blackwell recoiled as Danny Hebert's fist crashed down on the desk, rattling pens and causing a stapler to fall off the edge. "Now, Mr Hebert ..."
Danny took hold of the edge of her desk. For a moment, she looked as though she thought he was going to flip it over on top of her. For a moment, he really wanted to try. "Have you even tried finding out? Fucking seriously?"
Blackwell tried to lean back away from him without appearing to do so. "The police are investigating -"
This time, he did shove the desk back at her; it scraped over the carpet. "You've got to be fucking kidding me! You aren't even trying to find out, are you? Covering up just as hard as you can, aren't you?" He shoved the desk again; despite his skinny frame, he managed to move it a few more inches. "Well understand this. I have a friend in the media. If things don't change, then everything comes out. All of it."
"Mr Hebert." Despite her best efforts at control, Principal Blackwell's voice was shaking with ... what? Fear? Anger? "If you do not leave immediately, I will call the police."
"Yeah," he growled. "You do that." He stalked around the desk; Blackwell stood up hastily. When they were just a yard apart, he leaned in menacingly. "One week."
"W-what?"
"One. Week."He lowered his voice. "If this shit is not sorted in one fucking week, my friend in the media gets everything. And I will be sure to contact every single parent with a child in Winslow. See how your precious school holds up then."
He turned and left, the door slamming behind him. Blackwell slumped into her chair opened a desk drawer, pulled out a packet of antacid pills, and dry-swallowed half a dozen.
I'm not covering anything up. But how can I make him understand this? Fuck.
Outside, in the corridor, Danny was heading for the open air, for freedom. A teenage boy intercepted him.
"Uh ... sir?"
Danny glared at him. "What the fuck do you want?"
The boy gulped. "I - uh - you're her father, aren't you? T-Taylor's?"
Danny glowered. The kid was gawky, nerdy. He didn't need this shit. But then, this kid was the first person who had approached him in the school.
"Do you know something?"
"I, uh, I might." The boy swallowed, and glanced around. "T-Taylor, I think she was being bullied -"
Danny rolled his eyes. "What fucking led you to that conclusion, Einstein?" he demanded. "The fact that she was locked in her locker, or the fact that she fucking died in there?"
"Uh, Greg, sir. Greg Veder."
Danny shook his head in puzzlement. "What?"
"N-not Einstein, sir. My name's Greg Veder. I had World Affairs class with her."
Danny took a deep breath. The kid was actually starting to make sense. "And you were her friend?"
Greg Veder shrugged slightly. "I wanted to be. But she didn't really like me, I guess."
Danny ignored that. "So what makes you think she was being bullied?"
"A, uh, couple of girls in her class, they used to do things like put glue or juice on her chair or desk," stammered Greg. "Took her homework away and pretended it was theirs. Stuff like that."
Danny leaned closer, menacingly."Names,"he gritted.
Greg looked like he was on the verge of wetting himself. "Uh, uh, uh, you should ask Mr Gladly," he tried to temporise. "He teaches that class."
Danny made a mental note. "I will. But I'm asking you. Here. Now."
Greg closed his eyes and tried not to whimper. "J-Julia. And M-Madison."
"Surnames?"
"Madison's surname is Clements, I think. Not sure about Julia's. Morrow? Something like that?"
Danny took a deep breath. At last, something he could vent his rage at. "Anything else?"
Greg shook his head. "No, no, really. It's all I know."
"Good," growled Danny. "Thanks. And I might just be telling the police to ask you some questions, so don't go forgetting what you've just told me."
"I - I won't," Greg stammered, and made his escape. Danny watched him hasten off down the hallway.
Madison Clements and Julia somebody. Mr Gladly's class. Right.
He turned and walked away.
Neither Greg nor Danny saw the unfriendly eyes that observed their meeting.
Once they were both out of sight, Sophia Hess emerged from the classroom and looked thoughtfully after Greg.
I wonder what he told him.
I might have to ask him some serious questions.
In his bed, Danny was just slipping into a restless doze when a whisper awoke him. He sat bolt upright, eyes open wide.
The whisper came again.
"... dad?"
"Taylor!" he called out. "Taylor!"
" ... dad?"
"Taylor! Where are you?" He lunged out of the bedroom, checked hers, checked the bathroom, checked downstairs, tripping over furniture in the dark.
He didn't find her.
And then he stilled his breathing, staring into the darkness.
"Taylor?"
" ... dad? I don't know where I am ..."
He found an intact kitchen chair, set it upright. Sat in it.
"Taylor? Are you real? Talk to me."
" ... I don't know, dad. I don't know where I am."
The whispered voice faded away.
Danny called out to her, begged, pleaded. To no avail.
Eventually, he went back to bed. But there was one thought fixed in his mind.
Taylor's alive. Somehow. Somewhere.
And I'll find her.
End of Part 2