So I didn't ask my dad anything about it yesterday. I didn't want to upset him any more, or have something bad happen...you know.
But I did ask him today. Yesterday, actually, since it's after midnight right now. After he came home from work, I showed him the piece of paper. I recorded the audio so I could transcribe it to here.
Me: Hey, Dad.
Dad: Hey, Reil! (His nickname for me, he pronounces it Rye-ull) How's your day been?
M: Good. Um...I wanted to ask you about this. Did you write this?
D: (There was a pause, a long one, before he answered) I don't believe so. This isn't the type of thing I'd normally write. I write a lot of notes, but nothing like this. I don't have any interest in fiction. Somebody sure imitated my writing well, though. Did you do this?
M: No...I thought you did. Has anything else weird happened with the car and stuff since yesterday? I mean, the car freaked out and all. (I didn't tell my parents about Locust standing there. Why would I? Especially if my dad really did write that, I wouldn't tell him.)
D: The car seems fine, it started up fine this morning. I mean, I'm taking it to get checked up, but I think it's good.
M: That's good. Uhh...has anything else weird happened lately?
D: What do you mean?
M: Like, have you seen stuff out of the corner of your eye and stuff? Or is that just me? Actually it's stopped lately but I was--was wondering if you had that paranoia stuff too.
D: No...I don't pay attention to that much. I'm usually asleep or eating anyway. Oh! But I did get these little scratches from the darn cat in the middle of the night. I thought that was weird because Buddy (the cat, his name is Butterscotch) usually loves me, but he dug his claws in and left these long scratches on my arm. Then I found more scratches and scrapes on my feet the next night. My feet must have been sticking out from under the cover or something, he must like the taste of me or something. (He chuckled)
M: Are you sure it was Buddy?
D: (laughing) What else could it be?
Yeah, what else could it be. There's more in that conversation, but it was just little chit-chat. That was the only relevant part. Scratches on him from the cat? I doubt it. Scrapes on his feet? Sounds mighty suspicious.
I'm staying up tonight. I have a feeling my dad is doing something at night, and I'm going to see what. He's hiding something. I know he was because he sounded very forced throughout that whole conversation, and I've never heard him like that before. I just hope he didn't notice I was forcing myself through that conversation too. I didn't want to ask him anything else. I'm just scared. I'm scared again. I know I've stumbled on something even worse. This doesn't even have to do with just James anymore, does it?