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Fiction: The Beginning of Change (382 words)

01 Nov

I was fifteen years old when my world collapsed around my ears.  I hadn’t thought twice about the police car in front of my house.  Detective Drew had been a staple family friend for as long as I could remember, and when something happened to his car, he’d have a patrol car leant to him.  So, I was actually kind of excited to see the cop car—now eager to hear the story that led to the absence of Detective Drew’s regular car.

I never expected to find a young officer—a man I didn’t know—waiting in my living room.  He had the code phrase, the one my mom, detective drew, and I had set up years ago, the one that meant there was an emergency but I could trust who ever had brought me the code.  My knees gave away, and I fell against the wall.  The young officer helped me to the car—and drove me to the Police Station—where Detective Drew broke away from a briefing to sit quietly with me and break the bad news.

My mother was dead.

She had been killed in a hit and run accident on her way to work that morning.  The gravity of that hit me like a brick.  My mother had been dead for nearly eight hours and I hadn’t felt it.  In fact, I’d had a pretty good day.  How could I have had a good day when my mother had been lying in a hospital morgue?

I don’t really remember much of the next couple of days.  I went through them in a kind of daze.  I ate when food was put in front of me.  I slept when someone put me in a bed.  I don’t know if I spoke or even had a thought during those days.

The first thought I remember was when my father showed up.

My mother had been dead for three days, four hours, and seventeen minutes when my father walked through the police station doors.  I remember looking at him—recognizing him—but not realizing what he could possibly be there for.

He was there to take me to his home. I was a minor and he was my father.  Who else was going to take care of me now?

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Posted by on November 1, 2015 in Stories

 

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