Chapter Four: Who am I:

I should probably tell you a little bit about myself. Don’t worry, I won’t bore you with my lifelong story. I will just give you a quick bit about myself. I am a detective as I said. I came from a crappy and boring town. The one that I have avoided with all of my power for the past ten years. The one that I am being forced to came back to for some dead old man. I shuddered at the thought of him. He’s related to her.

Oh, yes. Her.

I clutched the steering wheel as I drew down the road. The rain started to pour on the windshield. It’s almost cliched. I think it rained on my high school graduation then too. Not a heavy downpour. Just a drizzle. Like today. Heh, so ironic. That’s kind of how my life was. My mom is a schoolteacher. She’s going to retire in three years. I pulled up to a traffic light. I took a slow breath. I could turn back. No one would know. Just go home and say that something came up. I’ll make up some excuse when I get home.

Suddenly, my phone rang.

“Hello?” I asked.

“Hello, dear,” mom said. Damn it.

“Hi, mom,” I said.

“How have you been?” she asked. I sighed and forced myself to smile.

“You’re going to see me in a couple of hours, you know?” I said. “I am at a traffic light and I’m about to drive off.” The light changed green just as soon as I said that. I frowned and drove off.  The drops slowly grew heavier on the windshield. Aw crap, I’m about to get caught in the rain. It didn’t help that I found myself stuck behind a green van with pro-marijuana stickers on it.

“I stick can’t talk with you on the phone?” mom asked. I rolled my eyes.

“You can talk to me until you are blue in the mouth when I get there,” I said. “I am driving right now. I’m going to have to get off now. Bye.” Mom sighed.

“Alright,” she said. “Drive safely.”

“Thanks,” I muttered. I hung up and focused back on the road.

My teens years were the worst. I had my issues. Still do, but they have gotten better. My therapist was the one who pushed me to do this.

“You can’t run away from your past,” she told me.

“I know,” I said.

“You might not even run into her that weekend,” my therapist said. “When was the last time you saw her?” I sighed as I took a moment to think.

“My sophomore year before summer,” I said. “She dropped out of high school.”

“Does she still live in the area?” the therapist asked.

“I don’t know,” I said, burying my head in my hands. “I left as soon as I graduated.” The therapist finished her notes.

“Like I said, she might not even be there,” she said. “You don’t even have to stay for the full weekend. You might even finally kill your demons at last.” Her words made me grimace.

That was Friday. And now here I am on a Saturday driving back to Ferguson for a funeral for a man related to the one person I never wanted to see again. I was going to be back there in four hours. I would be in the hell that I was supposed to call home in four hours. I would already start to relive my misery.

I shook my head.

I will not let this get to me again. I am above it now. That was years ago. I can do this. I can raise above this. My stomach turned as my doubt started to settle in again. Four more hours, huh? Oh boy…