Chapter 91
Chapter Ninety-One
Private Message | EchoZone Internal Chat
To: DeadStrings
Subject: You there?
It’s been so long since we’ve chatted. For all I know, you deactivated your account, and I’m just speaking to nothing. That would be sad. Not as sad as losing your father and realizing he was a piece of shit, but close enough.
So, yeah, my father died last week. There was no funeral or official announcement.
That’s a lie. I was at the grocery store and saw his old picture in several magazines calling him a legend.
The legend has died. If you ask me, I’m pretty sure it was his assistant who told her paparazzi friends about our loss.
The headline mentioned his daughter taking over for him and being—what was it? “Heartbroken but prepared.” Honestly, I’m not sure what I am. Am I in pain? Yes, but not because I miss him. Just a day before he died, I found out my father was a monster.
I went to his house to tell him how much I hated him and that I didn’t want to see him again. That . . . what does it say about me? The last words to the only family I had left were . . . not of a loving daughter. The worst part is that I don’t regret them.
That and I found out he destroyed the lives of several people who trusted him. He groomed them, used them, and . . . I found out that my boyfriend never cheated—not consciously. And I believed what my father had staged.
I keep thinking: What if I’d known? Would I have fought harder? Would we have stood a chance?
It’s not even about romantic what-ifs anymore.
It’s about the betrayal of being manipulated by someone who was supposed to protect me.
He didn’t just ruin a relationship—he rewrote the story before I even got the chance to live it.
He destroyed the life of the man I loved.
And now he’s gone, and all I’m left with are fragments, theories, and the bitter taste of too-late truths.
So yeah. That’s where I’m at. Trying to piece together who I am without the mythology of him dictating the narrative.
I don’t know if you’ll read this. I don’t know if you’re still there. But if you are—say something. Or send a song. Even if it doesn’t make sense.
I could use something that doesn’t make sense right now.
K