"You’re here,” he said quietly, “because of what your father did.”My heart shattered.“And until I decide otherwise…”“You’re not going anywhere.” the words felt like punch to my guts as I watched him gulp down the wine he held in his hands.his eyes were faraway, no hint of emotion, nothing gave him away, it was just the facade that could never change.I had no words, nothing. I just sat there staring at the wine glass he left behind. on impulse, I walked towards the liquid with shaky hands, I downed the content, relishing the burning sensation down my throat.I was falling apart.I'd been in that spot for six months and there was no end to it.the words repeated in my head. the accusation twisting my insides painfully until was nothing but a sobbing mess."no""no"I muttered.he'd never do that. I don't want to believe. he'd never be a murderer.my father was a good man, I'd watched him risk his life countless times without blinking an eye.what do I do?how do I clear his name?
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