The Diary of a Serial Killer's Daughter

by L. A. Detwiler

  They came, Diary. The police came to the house to ask questions about Clarissa and if I saw her. I had to lie, Diary. Over and over I lied. I had to lie to save not a relationship, but our lives. I had to lie to save Daddy. I don’t lie very much, or at least I didn’t. I don’t have very much practice. But today, I lied and lied like our lives depended on it—because they do.

  It seemed harmless, their questioning. When the blue and red lights pulled up, though, Daddy turned pale. My hands were shaking, and I couldn’t stop scratching. I knew what it was about. Daddy didn’t, though. I think he thought the worst, that his secret wasn’t safe.

  I tried to reassure him with my eyes that this wasn’t about him, but how could I?

  Focus, I told myself. You can do this. It’s not over yet. You need to try to save Daddy. Do your best. Stay calm. They don’t know a thing.

  I knew that lying to them might mean condemning Aaron. But it was a price I’d have to pay. Daddy was more important. Ruby and Daddy. Always Ruby and Daddy.

  Over and over, they asked questions. About where I was and Clarissa and Aaron. I did my best to tell the truth. Daddy asked if I needed a lawyer. The police assured him I wasn’t a suspect. They asked Daddy about Aaron, but he barely said a word. He was pale and I could tell he was nervous, but he didn’t leave my side. He was forceful with them, telling them to lay off when they got too intense.

  I was shaking the whole time as I told them the words I had to say, the answers I hoped were the right ones. The whole time, pictures of Clarissa’s body rolled in my head. I didn’t look at the police, afraid they could see the images in my mind even though I knew they couldn’t.

  They talked about the note and about revenge, and Daddy told them about the whole scenario from the school. I lied over and over, telling them I hadn’t seen Clarissa that day and that she never came to look for revenge. Daddy asked to see a copy of the note, and they obliged. I shuddered, not wanting to see the words I had written, the words that would mean life or death for Aaron, for Daddy, for me.

  Daddy froze at the sight of the note, flashing a glance to me.

  I felt his gaze burning into me. I felt the truth seeping out.

  He knew. I knew that he knew. My secret was out. At least part of it.

  The police then said the words we didn’t want to hear.

  “We need to take a look at the field, if it’s okay with you.”

  “Not without a search warrant,” Daddy responded. The police officers eyed him suspiciously.

  “Don’t you want to help us find out what happened to this girl, your daughter’s peer?”

  “Yes, but not without a search warrant. I know my rights.”

  Daddy was insistent. My blood chilled. I knew why he was so adamant about not letting them in the field.

  “Fine. We’ll be back,” they murmured. Daddy got rid of them.

  I sat, shaking on the sofa. I knew it was over. It was all over.

  Daddy turned to me once the police had left. His hands were trembling, and, in fact, his whole body shook.

  He walked over to me, staring at my face.

  “What are you hiding?” he screamed, his voice so dark and grating that I jumped.

  “Sorry, Daddy. Sorry.” How did he know? How could he possibly know? Maybe the same way I knew, had always known who he was.

  “Were you involved in this?”

  I looked up. To lie? To tell the truth?

  “No, Daddy,” I lied. I needed to save us, to save our relationship.

  “Those words. About the field. About laying a body to rest in the field. How would that boy know about our field? Did you take him there?”

  So Daddy thought I’d taken Aaron to the field. It had made sense. To him, the worst-case scenario was that Aaron had been in the field, had found something about Daddy’s secret.

  “No,” I replied, truthfully.

  “Don’t lie to me, Ruby.” He was pacing now, like a wild animal strutting in its cell-like cage in a zoo. He wrung his hands, and he was practically frothing at the mouth. It was crashing down, and it was my fault.

  Tears fell from my eyes. “I’m not lying. I didn’t. I didn’t. I’m sorry, Daddy.”

  He paced back and forth, back and forth.

  I thought of the fingernails in my pencil box. I thought of them tucked in my backpack, the last piece of Clarissa unearthed. I thought about telling him. He would understand. He would completely understand, wouldn’t he? But I couldn’t bring myself to tell him. Not that I was ashamed of following in his footsteps. He had taught me well. I had done well with that part. I messed up with the note, but I’d done the important part well. No matter what happened, I knew that I’d done him proud in that respect.

  I was afraid to tell him, though, that I knew his secrets, that all this time he had failed miserably at one thing—at keeping his killing hidden from me. Dad felt invincible in that garage, and I wanted him to keep feeling that way.

  I needed to tell him, though. I needed him to know we were in it together. That I would do what I could to protect him to the end.

  The words flashed in my mind. The final words from Mama’s diary pages I found so long ago.

  I leave with her and never come back.

  I kill us both.

  Either way, I think it’s safe to say this.

  Things will never be the same.

  Neither of Mama’s options came to fruition. Did she choose another path? No. I didn’t think so. I think somewhere, deep down, I’ve known all along. I thought of the women hanging in the garage, the photographs. The words. And suddenly, I spewed the words I’d been needing to all along, the lie that he’d told to save our relationship but that had tainted the trust between us. If he’d told the truth, how different would our lives be?

  “I know what you did to Mama. It wasn’t suicide. I know you killed her. You killed her.” The words flew out of my mouth before I could stop them. Before I could call them back. Stupid, Ruby. Stupid, stupid Ruby. This wasn’t the time. It wasn’t the time to tell him about Mama’s diary and about how I know the truth. I’ve known it all along. I know the truth. I know that the words in Mama’s diary aren’t the whole story. It played out differently. Daddy made sure of it.

  Daddy froze, his face turning even whiter and drawn. There was a long, long moment where I thought maybe it would all end there. I thought maybe like Mama, my diary would be all that was left to tell the story of who I was—and in her case, it was a false story, or at least not the whole truth.

  But Daddy snapped out of it, pinned me up against the wall. His arm trembled, and his eyes burned with fury.

  “You’re right,” he yelled, frothing at the mouth like a deranged fiend. “I killed her. I did it. I killed your mother.”

  “Why?” I asked, but I knew. I had always known.

  He let up on the pressure on me, backing away. His arms were still trembling, and he was both looking at me and not. His eyes were faraway, in some other life that he didn’t get a chance to live. A life where his daughter was normal and his wife was still alive. A life where his secret was safe and he could be his truest self. A life where he didn’t fuck it all up, and neither did I.

  But that life wasn’t the truth, especially not now. His eyes seemed glassed over, like he realized that vision wasn’t to be. When he finally spoke, it was like he was possessed, the Daddy I knew only a vessel for the words.

  “I’m dark, Ruby. I’m twisted. I’ve always been. There’s always been something within, something that I couldn’t push down. Your mother knew that. She figured it out. And I think she was scared for you. But I would never hurt you,” he murmured. He had completely backed away now, but I was frozen against the wall.

  “I know, Daddy,” I whispered. And I did. Even at his worst, even at his darkest, I knew that was true. He would never hurt me. He loved me. He was a good father.

  “But she wanted to take you away. I found her diary. I could tell she was slipping away,” he said, pacing around the
room now. He looked older, suddenly, lost. He was changed, transported back to another time.

  “She was going to hurt you Ruby or take you away. Her diary said she was getting ready for that. And I loved you. I always loved you. I always will.”

  I nodded, and he continued.

  “I couldn’t let her do that. I couldn’t. I just snapped, Ruby. I did what I had to do. You were sleeping, and I waited for her. I waited for her in the bedroom with that rope. I did what I needed to do to save you.” Tears rolled down his face. I rarely had seen him cry.

  “It’s okay, Daddy,” I added after a long moment.

  Daddy turned to me then, his face stoic. “But Ruby, it isn’t. I did what I had to do. But I didn’t have to enjoy it.”

  I stared, wordless. Silent at his admission. The lie had been broken, and now the truth was finally freely flowing between us.

  “I enjoyed killing her. It was a high, like the strongest kind of addiction. I felt so alive when I took her life from her. The feel of the rope tightening around her neck as I strangled the energy out of her. The look of her body when I staged her in the garage. Writing the fake suicide note. It was such a fucking rush. I became addicted. Ruby, I’m sorry. I’m sorry you have to hear this. I’m sorry I’m not who you think I am. But I’m not sorry for killing her, or at least I wasn’t in the moment. I did what I had to do, both to protect you and to do what I thought would get this darkness out of my system.”

  Daddy was crumpled into himself, his eyes defiant but his lip quivering. For the first time in my life, I saw the weakness in him. It was hidden behind the stoic eyes, the harsh words. It was there, though. Darkness was his true power, but Mama was his hidden weakness. What happened to her, the truth her death unlocked, was Daddy’s complete undoing, even if he didn’t realize it.

  My eyes studied him. I noticed the bracelet, the red one I’d made him so many years ago. It was tied on his wrist today, a sign of a time so long ago when everything was different yet nothing was different, too.

  I stared at him. It didn’t work, I thought. Killing Mama didn’t get the darkness out. It incited an unquenchable thirst. I knew, though, it wasn’t his fault. Daddy’s confession changed nothing. Nothing at all. I didn’t know Mama, didn’t love her. I love Daddy.

  And I also know it’s not all his fault. Not really. I know who I am. I know what she thought of me. I crossed the floor then, doing something I’d never done in sixteen years of life.

  I wrapped my arms around him.

  “I’m sorry, Daddy. I’m the one who is sorry. It’s not your fault. It’s not. It’s mine.”

  He pulled back. “Of course it isn’t.”

  “It is. My condition. Mama didn’t love me. I pushed her to what she was going to do, and she pushed you. I caused all of it.” I thought of the diary entry, the words. Mama didn’t love me. I did this. I created this mess. Daddy just was the one who had to finish it.

  “She was sick, Ruby. She had something wrong with her. It isn’t your fault. Your Mama loved you, even if she didn’t realize it. But I knew I could love you more. I thought I could. I thought I could calm the demons in me. But I was wrong. Fuck, I was wrong.” His words are mixed with the threat of tears. It’s all so messy. I look down at my watch, the glow of it flashing at me. It usually reassures me. Today, it doesn’t. Nothing is glowing.

  I looked at him and thought about mentioning the others. Maybe I could finally tell him. I could tell him what I knew. I could finally be a full, complete part of Daddy’s world. I was already, wasn’t I? I’d done it, too. Now we could be a team.

  But Daddy spoke first. “I love you Ruby. I’ll do anything to protect you.”

  And I know he will. I know we will. Things are such a mess. But now one of the secrets is out. Still, Daddy’s not the only one with secrets—I have one of my own.

  Does he know? Does he know on some level? I think about his dark eyes and how even though mine are blue, his eyes reflect mine right back. I see myself in them. Does he see me, the real me? Does he know?

  And will he really have to protect me? I hope not. I hope my secret stays buried, just like the rest of Daddy’s. We’ve come too far to get caught now, and the dead aren’t speaking. I have to make sure I don’t, either. Maybe it’s not too late. Maybe things can be salvaged.

  Maybe, if we’re lucky, it’ll all just disappear. Can Daddy make it disappear? Daddy says he needs to think, to make a plan.

  He’s brilliant. He can save this, can’t he?

  But what about Aaron? Will he be another casualty?

  We should have put him in the killing game when we had the chance.

  Stay Safe,

  Ruby

  Nov 8, 2018

  6:57 p.m.

  Diary,

  This is goodbye.

  For good.

  I thought about taking you, but Daddy says we need to start over. That we have to leave this all behind. Our bags are packed, and we’re heading out. We’ve got to get away, he said. We can’t get wrapped up in this. He doesn’t want the secret about Mama to come out, and he doesn’t want me being involved in the investigation. He’s told me it’s time we start over, away from this town.

  I didn’t tell him that I know the truth of why we really have to leave.

  There are too many bodies in the field. There’s one body he doesn’t know about. So many women left to tell the wrong story about us. We can’t make them understand, so we have to escape while we can.

  It’ll really just be Daddy and Ruby, a grand adventure.

  I want to tell him what I know, but then again, a part of me wants to leave his legacy unscathed. I owe that to him, to allow him to have that piece of himself. If I tell him what I know, will he see me differently? Mama’s death was for me—it was a sign of love. The other women were for him. I don’t want him to think he’s selfish or to think less of himself. Even now, I know I need to protect his secret.

  I’m scared, Diary. I’m terrified of leaving the familiar house and the familiar routine. I’m sad about leaving behind the garage.

  But Daddy taught me to be strong and flexible when I need to. We’re protective of each other, and we have to stick together now.

  Just Daddy and Ruby, off to see the world. I don’t know where we’ll end up. But at least we’ll be together. Always together. It’s sad I won’t get to say goodbye to Aaron. I wish he knew how much I love his red hair and how I hope it all works out for him. But I can’t worry about that now.

  My bags are packed. I took the photo of Mama and my red boots and some favorite clothes. Daddy said to pack light. He said we need to get going. I told him I just needed ten minutes to finish up here.

  I wanted to say goodbye to you, Diary, and all the Diaries before you. It makes me sad to leave you, but maybe someday, my story will be able to be told. I won’t be Ruby the retard, the different, the quiet. I’ll be Ruby the girl with a story, the girl who wrote real, raw poetry. The girl the world will remember and fear. Maybe the kids will realize I was different in a good way all along.

  I’ve left Clarissa’s nails with you. I don’t need them anymore. I know there are new collections for me to start, new options out there. I wonder if maybe someone will find them and it will bring Clarissa’s daddy closure to have a piece of her left. I’d like to think that it will make up for what I’ve done to him, just a little bit. Clarissa was an awful girl, but I bet her Daddy is sad he couldn’t protect her.

  I have to go now, Diary. Daddy yelled that it’s time to leave. I’ll miss you. But maybe I’ll start a new Diary with new poems. Maybe I’ll find a different voice or a different style. The possibilities are endless.

  Still, I know some things won’t change. Daddy’s hands are still shaking—and so are mine. There’s a familiar hunger growing. The killing game might have to change, but I don’t think it will go away. I think about all the possibilities waiting out there—all the people and places we can visit. I need to ask Daddy if he grabbed the camera. For documenting it
all.

  So, Diary, I hope you Stay Safe. Thanks for always being there for me.

  Goodbye,

  Ruby

  P.S.-I’m leaving Mama’s diary with you. I dug it out of the attic when Daddy said we were going to be leaving. He was busy downstairs, so I don’t think he noticed. I thought about taking it with me, but I don’t want to remember Mama like that. I want to start fresh, which means starting fresh with Mama, too. I think Daddy said we’re going to stop at her grave before we leave. I’m going to tell her that I forgive her. I understand that life is, truly, fucked up sometimes. We all just do the best we can. Goodbye for real now, Diary. Stay safe and true.

  The Diary of Caroline Marlowe

  October 6, 2004

  Dear Diary,

  He came home with blood on his hands again.

  To the untrained eye, it was almost imperceptible. But with everything else that’s been going on, I was looking for it. Paying attention.

  I’ve known for a while that something’s not right.

  He tries to pretend to be a loving father, a good husband. But I see the way his hands shake all the time. I see that darkness in his eyes. I feel the way he squeezes my neck when we’re having sex, feel the hunger for more in his hands as they constrict.

  I hear his lame stories about where he was so late and why there’s dirt on his hands. I’ve watched him walk the path into the woods and heard about downed trees and all sorts of things.

  Still, it can’t be, can it?

  Maybe everyone’s right. Maybe the depression isn’t under control like I thought. Maybe the treatment from the doctors isn’t working. If I tell them my suspicions, who will believe me? I’ve done my time in the special wing of the hospital. I really don’t want to be committed again. And if I throw these accusations out, he’ll make sure I end up back there.

  Ruby’s not gotten any better, either, which is certainly grating on my nerves. So many things the other kids do at the park, in the stores, at parties that she doesn’t. Something’s very wrong. I can see it. Everyone says give her time. I don’t need time to recognize the signs.