"I know what you did, Dad." I start, watching him intently.
"What are you talking about?" He asks with his mouth still full of potato.
"You killed Freya, I know you did." I lie, faking confidence in my thoughts.
"What on earth do you mean? You killed her you stupid girl."
"Oh." I say, pretending to be deep in thought, frowning slightly, "But, the thing is, that's not true, is it? You let me and mum believe that. But actually," I take a sip of water, leaving him in suspense, "You did it."
"I wasn't even in the house!" he laughs, "And you pushed her, not me."
"But what about the fact that you polished the floor above the stairs and probably the stairs themselves too. Mum always said it made the floor too slippery so it should only be done in the kitchen , not near the top of the stairs."
"What makes you think I polished the stairs?" He asks, his voice wavering slightly. I tell him about me skidding, Freya's shoes squeaking and how it was way too easy for her to have fallen - that never normally happened.
"Alright! Fine." he scowls, "But it wasn't her who was supposed to end up dead. It was you."
"What?!" I exclaim, leaping out of my chair.
"Relax, I won't hurt you now. I have no reason to." he chuckles, leaning back on his chair and stretching his legs.
"But, why? Why did you want to, you know..."
"Kill you? Well, I wanted your mum to myself, for starters. And you were too much effort to look after. At least if you didn't die, you ended up living away from us anyway. It was a win, win really!" He laughs when seeing the look on my shocked face.
I look up at him, my dad. But I don't see what you're supposed to see, what I used to see. I don't see the friendly father, embarrassing you in public and laughing a little too hard at their own jokes, a person you can mess around with but always know they will genuinely be there for you no matter what. No, I don't see that at all. Finally, I see him for the man he is. An attempted murderer of his only daughter. Someone who killed his daughters best friend through manslaughter. I see an evil, nasty, despicable man who I hate from the bottom of my heart. I despise the relaxed business man sat across the table from me.
"I- I, take me back to school!" I beg.
"The funeral is tomorrow, you can't escape just yet." he growls.
The funeral. My mum died thinking I'm a murderer. My mum died, finding it hard to even love me. I grew up without my mum for such a long time because of the monster across the table from me. I thought I was the full reason my best friend died, that I had murdered her. But no, it wasn't just me who caused her to die. My dad killed the wrong girl. He killed my best friend, and with her died my last traces of confidence in myself.
"You're hiring me a taxi straight after, or giving me money for a bus."
"Don't you want me to drive you, darling?" he spits out that last word at me, like I'm anything but a "darling" to him. I don't answer him or even finish my meal. Storming out of the house, I slam the door hard.
My first instinct is to call Zack or Chloe, but I can't bring myself to explain everything to either of them. Not yet at least. But then, my phone begins to ring. It lights up and the name displayed shakes me to my core. The breath is knocked out of me and I slump against a bench in the park. This can't be right. It can't be. Is this just dad playing a sick joke on me?
I slowly press the accept button just before the phone stops ringing and answer my mum's call.