Claire Mercer remembered the investigator only vaguely.<\/p>\n
She had been eleven.<\/p>\n
A man came to their house twice.<\/p>\n
Her mother sent the children upstairs.<\/p>\n
Leonard and the stranger spoke quietly in the kitchen.<\/p>\n
The second visit ended with an argument.<\/p>\n
Then Leonard burned something in the backyard.<\/p>\n
Tommy stared at his sister.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou never told me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou never asked.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat phrase is becoming a family curse.\u201d<\/p>\n
Claire almost smiled.<\/p>\n
\u201cI thought Dad was having trouble at work.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDo you remember the investigator\u2019s name?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
The receipt answered.<\/p>\n
Daniel Reeves Investigations.<\/p>\n
Oakridge.<\/p>\n
1965.<\/p>\n
Evelyn searched city directories.<\/p>\n
Daniel Reeves had died in 1998.<\/p>\n
His business closed decades earlier.<\/p>\n
But his son had donated several boxes of professional papers to a university archive.<\/p>\n
Most were routine.<\/p>\n
Insurance investigations.<\/p>\n
Missing property.<\/p>\n
Employee theft.<\/p>\n
The archivist located a file index.<\/p>\n
MERCER, LEONARD.<\/p>\n
Restricted until fifty years after creation.<\/p>\n
That restriction had expired.<\/p>\n
Two days later, we received scanned copies.<\/p>\n
The report was thirty-seven pages.<\/p>\n
Leonard had hired Reeves to determine whether anyone else saw my father\u2019s crash.<\/p>\n
Police records identified no eyewitness.<\/p>\n
Reeves disagreed.<\/p>\n
A farmhouse stood half a mile from the bend.<\/p>\n
Occupied in 1963 by Ruth and Samuel Pike.<\/p>\n
Samuel was away that night.<\/p>\n
Ruth was home.<\/p>\n
She saw two vehicles.<\/p>\n
A truck.<\/p>\n
A dark sedan.<\/p>\n
She heard a horn.<\/p>\n
Then a crash.<\/p>\n
Police interviewed her briefly.<\/p>\n
Her statement said she saw nothing useful.<\/p>\n
Reeves returned two years later.<\/p>\n
Privately.<\/p>\n
Ruth told him why.<\/p>\n
Harold Vance had visited her before police arrived.<\/p>\n
My hands went cold.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow?\u201d<\/p>\n
Tommy whispered.<\/p>\n
I continued.<\/p>\n
Ruth said Harold knocked on her door soaked from rain.<\/p>\n
He asked to use the telephone.<\/p>\n
He told her there had been an accident.<\/p>\n
He called someone.<\/p>\n
Not police.<\/p>\n
Charles Beaumont.<\/p>\n
The report included Ruth\u2019s recollection.<\/p>\n
Harold said:<\/p>\n
\u201cIt happened. I need you here before anyone else.\u201d<\/p>\n
My pulse hammered.<\/p>\n
Charles arrived approximately twenty minutes later.<\/p>\n
Only then did someone call authorities.<\/p>\n
\u201cCharles was at the scene.\u201d<\/p>\n
David said it quietly.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
Harold\u2019s confession omitted that.<\/p>\n
Charles\u2019s records omitted it.<\/p>\n
Two men had stood near my father\u2019s wreck before police came.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat did they do?\u201d<\/p>\n
Brenda whispered.<\/p>\n
Ruth could not see the truck from her house.<\/p>\n
She saw Harold and Charles walk toward the bend.<\/p>\n
They remained gone perhaps fifteen minutes.<\/p>\n
When they returned, Charles carried something under his coat.<\/p>\n
An envelope or folder.<\/p>\n
Blue, Ruth thought.<\/p>\n
I stopped.<\/p>\n
The evidence my father had been carrying.<\/p>\n
The letter for my mother.<\/p>\n
Perhaps other documents.<\/p>\n
Charles took them.<\/p>\n
That explained how his archive acquired the envelope.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat about Dad?\u201d I whispered.<\/p>\n
Reeves asked Ruth the same question.<\/p>\n
She did not know whether Harold or Charles went down the embankment.<\/p>\n
But she remembered Harold\u2019s trousers muddy to the knees when he returned.<\/p>\n
Harold had claimed in his confession that he did not climb down.<\/p>\n
He lied.<\/p>\n
Even in confession.<\/p>\n
My anger returned.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat did he do down there?\u201d<\/p>\n
No answer.<\/p>\n
Reeves tried to find physical evidence two years later.<\/p>\n
Impossible.<\/p>\n
But he interviewed the tow-truck operator.<\/p>\n
That man remembered something strange.<\/p>\n
The driver\u2019s-side door of Edward\u2019s truck was partly open when he arrived.<\/p>\n
Police photographs confirmed it.<\/p>\n
My father might have tried to exit after the crash.<\/p>\n
Or someone opened it.<\/p>\n
The coroner\u2019s original report said death likely occurred rapidly from internal injuries.<\/p>\n
Rapidly.<\/p>\n
Not instantly.<\/p>\n
I could barely read.<\/p>\n
David sat beside me.<\/p>\n
\u201cMom, you can stop.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
I needed the rest.<\/p>\n
Reeves interviewed the first responding deputy.<\/p>\n
The deputy remembered Harold Vance standing near the road when he arrived.<\/p>\n
That fact did not appear in the final police report.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy?\u201d Tommy asked.<\/p>\n
The report answered.<\/p>\n
The deputy\u2019s supervisor removed Harold\u2019s name because Harold claimed he arrived after hearing about the accident from a nearby resident.<\/p>\n
False.<\/p>\n
Reeves suspected local influence.<\/p>\n
No proof of bribery.<\/p>\n
Important distinction.<\/p>\n
Then came the worst page.<\/p>\n
Ruth Pike told Reeves she heard a man shouting from the direction of the wreck before Charles arrived.<\/p>\n
One shout.<\/p>\n
Maybe two.<\/p>\n
She could not identify words.<\/p>\n
Then silence.<\/p>\n
My father might have been alive.<\/p>\n
Harold might have heard him.<\/p>\n
My hands shook so badly David took the pages.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
I took them back.<\/p>\n
I had spent too many years having truth filtered for my protection.<\/p>\n
Not again.<\/p>\n
Reeves confronted Harold in 1965.<\/p>\n
Harold denied everything.<\/p>\n
Then Reeves received threats.<\/p>\n
Anonymous.<\/p>\n
His office window was broken.<\/p>\n
His wife asked him to stop.<\/p>\n
Leonard asked him to stop too.<\/p>\n
Why?<\/p>\n
Because Leonard had children.<\/p>\n
Because Reeves had children.<\/p>\n
Because Harold\u2019s method worked.<\/p>\n
Fear spread responsibility until nobody felt capable of acting.<\/p>\n
Reeves gave Leonard the report.<\/p>\n
Leonard hid it.<\/p>\n
Then, according to Claire, burned something.<\/p>\n
Perhaps a copy.<\/p>\n
But Reeves kept his own.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy didn\u2019t Dad go to police?\u201d Tommy asked.<\/p>\n
Claire looked at him.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou know why.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
But knowing did not make it easier.<\/p>\n
The report contained one final lead.<\/p>\n
Reeves located Charles Beaumont\u2019s chauffeur.<\/p>\n
A man named Frank Ellis.<\/p>\n
Frank admitted driving Charles to North Quarry Road after Harold called.<\/p>\n
He waited in the car.<\/p>\n
Charles returned carrying a blue envelope and a small metal box.<\/p>\n
The box.<\/p>\n
My father\u2019s evidence.<\/p>\n
Charles told Frank:<\/p>\n
\u201cTonight never happened.\u201d<\/p>\n
Frank never spoke publicly.<\/p>\n
He died in 1970.<\/p>\n
Reeves\u2019s signed interview survived.<\/p>\n
There it was.<\/p>\n
Not murder proof.<\/p>\n
Not evidence Harold deliberately forced the truck off the road.<\/p>\n
But evidence of concealment after the crash.<\/p>\n
Evidence that Harold lied about leaving immediately.<\/p>\n
Evidence Charles arrived before authorities.<\/p>\n
Evidence documents were removed.<\/p>\n
Evidence my father may have survived at least briefly while Harold remained nearby.<\/p>\n
I felt sick.<\/p>\n
Brenda read the report after me.<\/p>\n
Her face collapsed.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe lied in the confession.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cEven then.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause admitting he went down the embankment raises the question of what he saw.\u201d<\/p>\n
She covered her mouth.<\/p>\n
Richard arrived an hour later.<\/p>\n
Brenda had called him.<\/p>\n
He read the report.<\/p>\n
Then Harold\u2019s confession again.<\/p>\n
His face hardened.<\/p>\n
\u201cI believed him.\u201d<\/p>\n
No one answered.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe told me he never went down.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe said Edward was obviously dead.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat was his excuse.\u201d<\/p>\n
Richard stood and walked toward the window.<\/p>\n
\u201cAll these years.\u201d<\/p>\n
I watched him.<\/p>\n
He had spent his life defending a version of Harold that Harold himself manufactured.<\/p>\n
That realization was punishment enough in ways no court could design.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat do you remember?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cAbout what?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYour father after the accident.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI was seven.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnything.\u201d<\/p>\n
Richard thought.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe burned clothes.\u201d<\/p>\n
The room went silent.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNot that night. A few days later.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat clothes?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy do you remember?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause Mother was angry.\u201d<\/p>\n
Brenda stared at him.<\/p>\n
\u201cI never knew this.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou were little.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSo were you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI followed him.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhere?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe incinerator behind the old company warehouse.\u201d<\/p>\n
My pulse quickened.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat did he burn?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cClothes. Papers.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnything else?\u201d<\/p>\n
Richard closed his eyes.<\/p>\n
\u201cA shoe.\u201d<\/p>\n
My breath caught.<\/p>\n
\u201cHis?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI thought so.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat kind?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWork shoe.\u201d<\/p>\n
Harold wore dress shoes.<\/p>\n
My father wore work shoes.<\/p>\n
No.<\/p>\n
Not proof.<\/p>\n
Memory from a seven-year-old.<\/p>\n
Sixty-three years old.<\/p>\n
But chilling.<\/p>\n
\u201cDid you tell anyone?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDaddy caught me watching.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat did he say?\u201d<\/p>\n
Richard looked at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe said, \u2018Some things become dangerous if you remember them wrong.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n
I felt cold.<\/p>\n
A threat disguised as advice.<\/p>\n
To a child.<\/p>\n
Harold\u2019s methods started early.<\/p>\n
Detective Chen could not reopen a criminal case against dead men.<\/p>\n
But she helped us refer the new material for historical review.<\/p>\n
The county records office agreed to attach supplemental evidence to my father\u2019s death file.<\/p>\n
Not change the official cause.<\/p>\n
There was insufficient basis.<\/p>\n
But the historical record would no longer say simply accidental single-vehicle crash without context.<\/p>\n
That mattered.<\/p>\n
I met with the medical examiner\u2019s office.<\/p>\n
A forensic pathologist reviewed the old report and photographs.<\/p>\n
Could Dad have survived after the truck stopped?<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
For how long?<\/p>\n
\u201cImpossible to determine.\u201d<\/p>\n
Could prompt medical help have saved him?<\/p>\n
\u201cImpossible to determine.\u201d<\/p>\n
I hated the answer.<\/p>\n
But uncertainty was truth too.<\/p>\n
I would not replace Harold\u2019s lies with my own certainty.<\/p>\n
The exhibit added a final panel.<\/p>\n
Not an accusation of murder.<\/p>\n
A documented timeline.<\/p>\n
Harold pursued Edward.<\/p>\n
Edward\u2019s truck left the road.<\/p>\n
Harold went to Ruth Pike\u2019s house.<\/p>\n
He called Charles Beaumont.<\/p>\n
Charles arrived.<\/p>\n
Both men approached the wreck.<\/p>\n
Documents were removed.<\/p>\n
Authorities were called afterward.<\/p>\n
Harold later denied going down the embankment.<\/p>\n
Ruth reported hearing a shout.<\/p>\n
That was what could be proved.<\/p>\n
People could decide what it meant.<\/p>\n
Opening weekend had already passed, but attendance increased after the new evidence became public.<\/p>\n
I disliked the attention.<\/p>\n
Reporters wanted emotional statements.<\/p>\n
I gave none beyond facts.<\/p>\n
Then one afternoon, Martin Alvarez came to my house.<\/p>\n
He carried no documents.<\/p>\n
That alone felt refreshing.<\/p>\n
We sat at the kitchen table.<\/p>\n
The newer one.<\/p>\n
The old table remained downstairs.<\/p>\n
Martin drank coffee.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou keep looking for the moment everything becomes settled.\u201d<\/p>\n
I frowned.<\/p>\n
\u201cDo I?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat sounds annoyingly insightful.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ve had thirty years to practice.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat is your point?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThere may never be a final answer about the crash.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDo you?\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked away.<\/p>\n
He was right.<\/p>\n
Part of me still wanted one sentence.<\/p>\n
Harold killed him.<\/p>\n
Or Harold did not.<\/p>\n
Charles caused it.<\/p>\n
Or Charles merely concealed it.<\/p>\n
A clean verdict.<\/p>\n
History refused.<\/p>\n
What I had instead was enough.<\/p>\n
Harold\u2019s pursuit contributed to the crash.<\/p>\n
He failed to call for help immediately.<\/p>\n
He concealed his presence.<\/p>\n
Charles helped remove evidence.<\/p>\n
Both lied.<\/p>\n
Whether earlier help would have saved Dad remained unknowable.<\/p>\n
That uncertainty hurt.<\/p>\n
But it was honest.<\/p>\n
Martin finished his coffee.<\/p>\n
\u201cArthur understood that.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat sometimes evidence gives you responsibility without giving you certainty.\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked at him.<\/p>\n
\u201cDid Arthur ever talk about Dad\u2019s crash?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOnce.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat did he say?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat he wished he could prove exactly what happened.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnything else?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
Martin smiled faintly.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe said you would hate not knowing.\u201d<\/p>\n
I laughed.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat man knew me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNot enough to tell me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
There it was.<\/p>\n
Love and failure occupying the same chair.<\/p>\n
After Martin left, I went downstairs.<\/p>\n
The old kitchen table waited.<\/p>\n
I sat at it.<\/p>\n
For the first time in decades.<\/p>\n
The wood creaked.<\/p>\n
I remembered my mother cutting fabric.<\/p>\n
Dad eating breakfast.<\/p>\n
Arthur repairing the brace.<\/p>\n
David doing homework.<\/p>\n
Objects did not choose what they carried.<\/p>\n
People did.<\/p>\n
My phone rang.<\/p>\n
Brenda.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat now?\u201d<\/p>\n
She laughed.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou answer the phone like I\u2019m personally responsible for historical emergencies.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cExperience supports me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI found something, but it isn\u2019t bad.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat would be new.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMy mother\u2019s recipe box.\u201d<\/p>\n
I waited.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat is your discovery?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThere\u2019s a card inside addressed to you.\u201d<\/p>\n
Of course there was.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat does it say?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI haven\u2019t opened it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause it says Martha.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat has not stopped anyone else in sixty years.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m learning.\u201d<\/p>\n
That silenced me.<\/p>\n
\u201cBring it tomorrow.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI will.\u201d<\/p>\n
The next morning Brenda arrived carrying a small tin recipe box.<\/p>\n
Inside, between lemon cake and chicken casserole, sat an envelope.<\/p>\n
My name.<\/p>\n
Eleanor\u2019s handwriting.<\/p>\n
I opened it.<\/p>\n
Martha,<\/p>\n
If you ever learn all of this, you may wonder why I did not tell you myself.<\/p>\n
Fair question.<\/p>\n
She explained that my mother made her promise not to interfere unless Harold threatened us again.<\/p>\n
Eleanor kept that promise.<\/p>\n
Perhaps too faithfully.<\/p>\n
Then:<\/p>\n
There is one thing Margaret never understood about Brenda.<\/p>\n
I glanced up.<\/p>\n
Brenda looked nervous.<\/p>\n
I continued.<\/p>\n
Brenda did not mock your dress because she thought you were poor.<\/p>\n
Brenda closed her eyes.<\/p>\n
\u201cOh no.\u201d<\/p>\n
I kept reading.<\/p>\n
She mocked it because she knew her mother had given Margaret some of the fabric, and she was terrified you would discover our families were connected.<\/p>\n
I stared at Brenda.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI didn\u2019t know she knew that.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou did know?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAbout the fabric? Yes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou told me you didn\u2019t.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI didn\u2019t know until after prom.\u201d<\/p>\n
Eleanor\u2019s letter said otherwise.<\/p>\n
She had overheard Brenda asking why Margaret Higgins had their curtain fabric.<\/p>\n
Eleanor refused to explain.<\/p>\n
Brenda, already aware there was some secret between the families, panicked.<\/p>\n
At prom she saw the dress.<\/p>\n
Recognized the fabric.<\/p>\n
And attacked before anyone could ask why she recognized it.<\/p>\n
I lowered the letter.<\/p>\n
Brenda looked miserable.<\/p>\n
\u201cI remembered it differently.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat is convenient.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDid you know?\u201d<\/p>\n
She thought.<\/p>\n
Really thought.<\/p>\n
Then nodded.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
The answer cost her.<\/p>\n
\u201cI think I did.\u201d<\/p>\n
Not poverty.<\/p>\n
Fear.<\/p>\n
Still cruelty.<\/p>\n
But a different root.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat were you afraid of?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI thought our parents had some humiliating connection.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThey did.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou humiliated me to protect yourself.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n
I sat back.<\/p>\n
For fifty-five years, that moment had lived in my mind as proof Brenda saw me as beneath her.<\/p>\n
She had been afraid.<\/p>\n
A frightened seventeen-year-old saw evidence of a family secret stitched into another girl\u2019s dress and chose cruelty as camouflage.<\/p>\n
It did not make the words hurt less.<\/p>\n
But it made them understandable.<\/p>\n
Brenda\u2019s eyes filled.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m sorry.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo. I mean for lying about remembering.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI wanted the newer version of me to be better than the girl I was.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat is not how being better works.\u201d<\/p>\n
She nodded.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou don\u2019t get to rewrite her.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou get to decide what you do now.\u201d<\/p>\n
She laughed through tears.<\/p>\n
\u201cYour mother again.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cUnfortunately.\u201d<\/p>\n
I folded Eleanor\u2019s letter.<\/p>\n
Then Brenda reached into the recipe box.<\/p>\n
\u201cThere\u2019s something else.\u201d<\/p>\n
I groaned.<\/p>\n
She smiled.<\/p>\n
\u201cOne photograph.\u201d<\/p>\n
She handed it to me.<\/p>\n
Prom night.<\/p>\n
Me in the blue-check dress.<\/p>\n
Brenda several feet away.<\/p>\n
Before the insult.<\/p>\n
Before everything.<\/p>\n
In the background stood our mothers.<\/p>\n
Margaret and Eleanor.<\/p>\n
Watching us.<\/p>\n
My mother looked worried.<\/p>\n
Eleanor looked furious at something outside the frame.<\/p>\n
On the back she had written:<\/p>\n
I hope our daughters do better with the truth than we did.<\/p>\n
I stared at those words.<\/p>\n
Then at Brenda.<\/p>\n
We had taken a long time.<\/p>\n
But perhaps we finally were.<\/p>\n
Claire Mercer remembered the investigator only vaguely. She had been eleven. A man came to their house twice. Her mother sent the children upstairs. Leonard and the stranger spoke quietly … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":12995,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-13019","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-feel-one-story"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/feelonestory.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13019","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/feelonestory.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/feelonestory.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/feelonestory.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/feelonestory.online\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=13019"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/feelonestory.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13019\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":13059,"href":"https:\/\/feelonestory.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/13019\/revisions\/13059"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/feelonestory.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/12995"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/feelonestory.online\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=13019"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/feelonestory.online\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=13019"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/feelonestory.online\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=13019"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}