love and hate

I sift through newspaper clippings with her face, identical to mine, to find the note that was sent to my mother days before her disappearance. I went to the police, bloodied, and told them that I couldn’t see his face, but I recognized the phrase. "Love and hate are two sides of the same coin." And his voice, saying, “I love you.” Those three words were left unsaid until that moment. I spoke with a pocket knife. The police asked whose blood it was. I said, "Both, but it’s all mixed up. My father and I bleed the same color."