by Rebekah Hughes
I'm finally back. It's been a hectic couple of weeks, with the performances back east and the interview schedule. I try myself to be patient with the media. After all, it was the power of the media that really saved Eric and I from Arbogast and, ultimately, Felix and his NOS goons. Still, the schedule is rough and they ask questions that I don't want to answer.
Well, I've decided to finally answer the big one: What is the story with my father?
Answer: I don't know, really. Here's what I know for sure:
Back in December, I was planning on visiting my father in England for Christmas. As everyone knows, I got kidnapped by the NOS, and never made my flight. Eric, while trying to help me, talked to my father on the phone, and told him I was in trouble.
A short time later, Isabella Hakopian showed up. She eventually told us that she was my father's personal assistant, and that she had been sent to help us, on his request.
Later, at the airport, my father saved my life, as well as Eric's. He and Felix talked, and while I don't understand much of what was said, it was evident that they knew each other. How and in what capacity, I don't know.
And that's it. That's all there is to the story. I don't know why he is in hiding right now, and I don't know why Isabella won't talk to the police.
Here's what I do know: there is no evidence, in my mind, that my father is a terrorist. There is absolutely no evidence that he is working with Felix. They hate each other; that much was certain.
And I know this: he's my father, and I'm not going to hang him out to dry based on hearsay and speculation. I never knew him much growing up, because he was always away on business, but that doesn't mean I didn't--don't--love him.