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" THE KILLER MADE A REFERENCE TO TAYLOR SWIFT. "

alexa, play LIGHTS ARE ON by tom rosenthal

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"Tater tots, I'm very sorry, but I couldn't win you that teddy bear." Dad approached me with a big sad expression on his face, but just from the extremely large teddy bear looking thing behind his back, I could tell there was going to be a turn to this. "But I was able to win you this much bigger teddy bear."

"Dad! Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh, this is so big and fluffy I'm gonna die!" I took the larger-than-life teddy bear from his arms, jumping up and down faster than humanely possible.

This sugar high would leave soon. I would probably crash and want to leave this carnival soon, but not right now! I was seven years old, and planned to behave that way for as long as possible. I held the teddy bear's left hand and held out the teddy bear's right hand to my dad, who took the teddy bear's right hand with an incredible amount of enthusiasm. I'm going to have that much enthusiasm when I'm old...like at seventeen. I'll have that much enthusiasm with everything by the time I'm seventeen, because that's old!

"What's his name?" He asked as we were swinging the bear back and forth.

"Doofy!" I shouted proudly after hesitating for a second in deep thought.

I let out a weak laugh at the memory, sniffling and wiping away a couple of spare tears. It was the next day now, and none of us have left the hospital. Well, Brielle and Laina left because their mother wanted them home where it was 'safer.' Honestly, it felt like a bunch of bullshit coming out of their mother's mouth-how could anywhere be a safer place right now? And home of all places? Judy and Wes Hicks died right outside and right inside of their very own home, and their mother thought it was safer? I didn't understand how either of them managed to listen to their mother, but I wasn't going to shit talk their own mother in front of them, so I remained quiet and let them leave. But I did let that sit in the back of my mind for a later time.

"Sweetheart, I'm gonna go and get some uh...some coffee, do you wanna take the walk?" Gale asked, and I shook my head.

"You can go." I shrugged, refusing to make eye contact with her puffy red eyes.

"Are you sure? You haven't had anything to eat or drink since before We-"

"Don't say his name." I shifted in the increasingly uncomfortable hospital chair. "Just go."

Her mouth opened as if to say something, but at the last second, she seemed to change her mind. With a shake of her head and a press of her lips into a thin line, she walked away. I closed my eyes, pressing my head against the back of the chair and trying not to cry.

"Sweetie, we need to have a little talk, alright?" Dad slowly sat himself down on the new trailer's couch, and although I knew this could probably be one of those bad talks, I jumped up onto his lap and did my best to look eager and excited anyways.

"Now, you just turned eight, so I don't expect you to fully understand this. If you have any questions, feel free to ask me, alright?" He had one hand firmly on my shoulder. "You've been asking me-for a while now-about when your mother's gonna come and move back here with us, and I've been saying I don't know, but...I do know, and I know you won't like this answer-"

"She's not coming back, I know." I shrugged, pressing my lips into a poorly attempted smile. "She's not moving with us, because you and Mommy are always fighting because she's not here. It's okay, Dad, it's okay."

I could see tears shimmer in his eyes, and he let out a sad laugh, "You're the smartest, most mature eight year old I've ever met, you know that? Gosh, you're...too mature for an eight year old."

"Your name was in my math problem at school today. Remember Wes?" I changed the subject like I normally do when things get too weird and I don't know how to reply. "Well, me and him have math together now, and it's really cool, because he pointed out your name to me. It's called the...the...the Dewey Decimal System!"

"Y'know, Wes's mother works with me-"

"Don't get together with her now that Mommy's out of the picture!" I demanded, crossing my arms. "You can't!"

"Why can't I?"

"Because-" I shut myself up. Don't say it. Don't tell him you have a crush on Wes, he still thinks that I think that boys have cooties. "It's...weird?"

"It's weird? Really? That's why?"

"It's weird! Yes. It's weird, Dad, don't do it," because I want to hold hands with Wes like those romcoms we watch and I can't do that if he becomes my brother in law.

"Tatum?" Uncle Mark's voice was the most recognizable voice in the world.

It wasn't too manly-low, but it wasn't too boyishly-high, either. It was this oddly perfect in between. I stood up too fast, realized I hadn't moved in literal hours, then I realized I should move towards Uncle Mark's opened arms before it became too awkward and before he became insecure. So, after that long-yet-slow thought process, I walked like a newborn horse and collapsed into his warm and waiting arms. He was the only person I would accept a hug from right now, and it was for the sole reason that his hugs felt most similar to Dad's. And I really wanted a hug from Dad right now, but since that would never happen, Uncle Mark would have to do.

"I heard," he sadly mumbled his words after we pulled back from the hug, "I'm so sorry Tatum, about both of them. They didn't deserve that-you don't deserve this."

"Thanks, Uncle Mark..." I shrugged, cramming my hands into my jean pockets and letting out a shaky breath. "Where's Sid and the kids? Are they okay?"

"Oh, them? Yeah, yeah they're fine. She's gonna head down once I'm on my way back, I only came down to uh...to be here for you. You need somebody, and God knows your mother isn't gonna cut it. And I know what you're gonna say, so I'm gonna stop you before you tell me that I didn't need to do that and how you have your friends, and sure, you have your friends, but they can come into play...later. Right now? Well, right now you need family."

And he is family. We hugged one final time before sitting back down. I was getting tired, but not tired in the way of falling asleep, more like 'tired' in the way of being done with all this killer bullshit. But I didn't want to plague Uncle with all the trauma from the past couple of days, so I chose not to. For now. It would probably take me a year to talk about any of it, anyways.

We talked about everything and anything, ranging from the Madeleine McCann case to the latest Taylor Swift songs. It was a significantly shorter list if I were to name what we didn't talk about. Gale came back over at one point, I'm not sure when, but neither of us bothered to acknowledge her presence. This wasn't about her, when Sidney got here they could cry into each other's arms, but right now? Nope. She could suffer in silence. Sorry not sorry.

******

"The killer made a reference to Taylor Swift." I finally brought up what I had been dreading to think of. "Twice."

Sidney, Gale, and Uncle Mark all looked at me as the sun began to set on this dreary day. I shifted in my seat, uncomfortable from the sudden eyes focused on me, but found comfort from looking into Sid's eyes. So, with that odd comfort, I continued on.

"The killer made a reference to Taylor Swift two times, both to me. I thought it was Sam who did it at first, when I was on the phone with Wes and the killer took it off the counter after..." Not saying it, they'll get what I mean. "And they said that line of how they're sorry Wes can't come to the phone right now, and when I asked why, they echoed me and then they said how it's because he's dead. That's referencing Look What You Made Me Do, obviously. And then again, it didn't really register for me at first, but when they were choking me, they said something about how love made them crazy, which is referencing Don't Blame Me-"

"How is this-" Gale began to ask, but I held my hand out.

"Shut up, I'm not done. At first, y'know, I thought it was Sam, because she talked about Taylor Swift when I first saw her with Tara the other day." I was over-using my hands to word-vomit, but that's okay. "Right? But obviously, it can't be Sam, because she's been at the hospital with Tara all this time, and she was standing feet away the second time the killer made a reference. So I've been thinking, over and over again, who could've caught what Sam was saying and then used it as a teasing method? I went down the list of everybody in that room. Brielle and Laina have alibis, they were with their mother for Wes and feet away for...Dad.

"Chad and Mindy were hanging out at home with pictures for proof, so there goes them. They're off the list. Wes...well, obviously it isn't Wes. It's impossible for it to be Tara, and I'm pretty sure that Richie has been attached to Sam's hip, so that puts both of them off the list too. And that only leaves-"

Before I could finish the sentence that was supposed to tie everything together, there was a ding sounding off of my phone. It's a text message from Brielle that reads 'memorial for wes at amber's house, come over'. I looked around at everybody and, without saying anything at all, started to walk towards the exit. I could hear their footsteps behind me, and in specifics, I could hear Gale's heels click-clacking their way towards me. I walked faster, but her ice cold hand grabbed onto my arm and spun me around before I could break into a run.

"Young lady, where do you think you're going now?" She asked, and I tugged my arm away.

"A memorial. For my dead boyfriend. You aren't invited. Hopefully I won't see you later." I tried to turn away once more, but she once more spun me to look at her.

"Hey! That is no way to talk to your mother, especially not after what's happened. You'll be spending a lot more time with me now that your dad's gone." She was not good at reprimanding me.

I pressed my lips into a sad yet extremely judgmental frown, nodding slowly as I tried to take in her manipulation. He's barely been dead a day, and she's already using his death to try and get her sweet little Tatum back? Nope. No fucking way. Not ever again.

"Excuse me? No, no, you don't get to be like that. You don't get to use his death as an excuse to get fuckin' closer with me!" I raised my voice, using exaggerated hand movements to convey my anger as well. "You left! You've been gone! You left-" a hitched breath. "You left us, when he fuckin' needed you, and now he's GONE! You," I scoffed, "are no mother of mine."

Without bothering to hear another word out of that pathological manipulator's mouth, I walked away, shocked with how confident I felt despite the fact that I had no car to drive. I did, however, feel relieved in not hearing anymore click-clacks in my direction. There was a car engine revving in the distance, and then there was the sound a car makes when it drives away really fast. The issue was that it seemed to be heading my way; I looked to see that it was none other than Uncle Mark speeding to pull up and stop next to me.

"Get in!" He motioned. "I'll drive ya, gotta go back to the kids anyways."

He had something more to say, I could tell that much. But without asking any questions, I hopped in the shotgun seat and buckled up. We were a solid twelve minutes into the drive before either of us uttered a single word.

"You were gonna say something before you got that text, weren't you? What is it?" He asked, and I shifted uncomfortably. "What did you realize?"

"It's Amber."

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guys i'm almost done with nttd so i might go write another chapter in traitor to delay the end of this book bcuz i don't want this book to end nor do i want traitor to end