The more Diana explains, the paler I get.
It seems I was right. Leaving Diana to wallow in issues she could have spoken to me about, was the wrong thing to do.
As she explains, I can't help but see the same flames of guilt I had in her eyes too.
What I caused cascaded into something unimaginable, and she blames herself for playing a part in it too.
Apparently, after our dispute weeks ago, Diana began to express more and more of her views and gripes to her friends.
Granted, unlike what I thought, she wasn't stupid enough to spill her secrets to every Tom and Dick who admired her – likely fished up by her popularity and incredible... physique.
No. She had a few people she truly leaned on and vented to. I overreacted the last time she tried to tell me this. I took a few friends to be a horde.
One of these friends, was Elena, a typical, introverted nerd-genius who uncovered a lot about Diana without her even talking about it.
I resist to urge to point out that I was probably right about scolding her for not keeping a lower profile. The current me wouldn't ruin the moment though.
Apparently, Elena, who could relate somewhat to Diana – with her parents who didn't understand how exhausting it was for her to be around overly expressive people, how her own, secluded bubble allowed her to feel safe, and viewed all her interests other than strict schooling as ridiculous and childish – felt like the perfect person to confide in.
Diana tells me she spent a lot of time with Elena, learning her habits, and sharing her views and ideas...
It was what she needed at the time.
She felt vindicated... a lot.
Can't say I blame her.
However, it was also Elena who planted the idea in Diana to search for her past.
Diana was easily reined in.
When brilliant met brilliant, they scoured high and low, through dirt and interweb.
I'm befuddled to hear that the two girls went out of the country one time, and visited a few relatives of Diane as well as her birthplace.
My heart beats as I hear this story.
Diana knows how I feel, but the urgency with which she speaks tells me that it's somehow imperative that she tells me all this.
Elena and Diana didn't find anything of note from Diane's relatives. She had no immediate family I was aware of, after all, and I assume these relatives whom she never talked about weren't that close to her.
The only worthwhile piece of information the two girls managed to recover, was that Diane's origin traces back to a small town in a different continent. A small, isolated town close to the sea.
I can hardly believe it.
The two girls looked for every piece of news regarding this village on the internet, as they couldn't physically travel there.
This was when things started to get awry.
There were the occasional 'missing persons' reports and articles – which would always be expected from isolated towns with elements of mystery added by the writers to incite interest – but something... wasn't right.
There were odd things... odd stories in that town.
Elena, finding that the origin story of her friend wasn't as Wonder Woman-esque as she had hoped, opted to stop the research. She was creeped out.
Well, Diana couldn't stop now. As soon as the valve to her curiosity was opened, she drowned.
She urged Elena to help her for a little while longer, saying she would do the bulk of the work, and of course, she hoped to do it at Elena's house, on her computer, instead of here.
Well, a few days ago, tragedy struck.
When the two girls were digging deep into articles about the small town... the computer suddenly burst into flame.
The fire, which Diana swears lurched at them as though it was alive, spitting bits of itself all around and flaring unnaturally with each item it latched onto, killed Elena in moments.
Diana breaks down at recollecting those moments.
"I...I can still hear her screaming, Dad. She reached for me before she died. I couldn't do anything. I was fine... unharmed, but I just... froze!" she says as she grits her teeth and claws at her knees.
I don't know what to say.
I can only hold her as firmly as I can while trying to process all this.
A mysterious, small town.
A living fire.
I have no words to say.
I teetering on the edge of belief and disbelief.
I only cradle Diana as she sobs for a quarter of an hour.
By the end of it, I have to say, I've started to feel a bit scared.
Yet... my curiosity has been ignited too.
I wait a little while longer before detaching myself from Diana and going into my room.
I emerge moments later with a box that I set on the table.
Diana looks at it while wiping the tears with her sleeve.
"W...what is this?" she asks.
"Savings," I say with a sniffle.
"What is..." she begins, but catches on a moment later.
I smile sheepishly.
"Neither of us can live with ourselves for a while, right? Not here at least. It's sudden, I know, but... closure?"
I wonder if Diana feels the same.
She can't bring herself to smile, but I feel that she agrees wholly.
She nods.
"Closure."
***
Four days later.
I lock the house and look at it for a few seconds.
This might be the last time. Who knows?
I grab the straps to my backpack and lift my swollen duffel bag.
Diana has her own pair of luggage which she carries with little effort.
As we step onto the street, we don't say much to each other.
Diana is tense.
We have a stop on the way and we both don't know how it will turn out.
Minutes later, we are standing in front of a burnt building. Building complex rather.
"Let's find them then," I say.
"No," Diana says. "I have to go alone. You don't even know them. You'll just get needlessly involved."
I want to argue, but she's probably right.
She steps away, leaving her luggage with me, and asks a few people some questions. I recognize some of them. They must have been the residents of the building. They recognize Diana, and some of them shake her hand in gratitude.
I see.
The image from that night makes more sense now.
My little girl saved lives.
Diana soon walks further away and disappears into a house nearby.
How she knew Elena's parents would still be close to here is a mystery to me.
I wait anxiously.
Ten minutes pass.
Then twenty.
Then thirty.
Diana only emerges after three-quarters of an hour.
She walks to me, a blush on her face.
I recognize it as the not-so-good kind.
She picks up her bags and leads the way down the street.
After a few steps, she takes a deep, broken breath, stifles tears, and grips my hand tight.
I think she breaks my middle finger before she relaxes her grip, but I barely feel it.
I'm too scared to ask what happened.
I don't need to for now.
I draw closer to Diana and we walk so close it's awkward.
"We'll be alright. Right, Dad?" she says in a drowning voice.
"Definitely," I lie through my teeth and grip her hand tighter.
I believe this is the best lie I've ever told, for both of us.
THE END.