Red and blue lights brighten the world before me, and the
flashing colors make me feel sick. Dread is pooling in the pit of my
stomach while police officers and dogs search the surrounding
area.
An officer has confiscated the rose, yet the blood has stained
my hands—physically and metaphorically. I rub my fingers
together, watching the dried blood flake from my skin.A tear escapes, but I quickly wipe it away.
I killed a man.
I brought him here knowing someone dangerous was lurking,
and I did it anyway.
And now he's gone.
"Ma'am? I need to ask you a few questions," Sheriff Walters
says, walking towards the porch steps that I'm currently sitting on.
I've known himsince I was a child. He went to school with my
mother, and they were good friends. Every now and again, she'd
invite him over for dinner. He's always been kind. Quiet and soft
spoken, he always seemed more interested in listening than
speaking.
He's a tall, built man, towering to at least six-seven. I think his
family descends from giants because his father and brothers are
just as freakishly large. His father was a sheriff, and his father
before. Pretty sure a couple of his brothers are cops, too.
One big family of gigantic cops. Just what the world needs,
right.
Scruff peppers Sheriff Walters's cheeks, and his brown eyes
are tired and wary.
I already gave the run down to the responding officer, but when
I told him a man was missing and I was gifted a bloody rose, he
was more concerned about getting a search party going.
Considering dense woods surround me, it's likely the man took
Arch on foot until he managed to get him into a car somewhere
and drive off.
I sniff, wiping snot from my nose and nodding my head.
"Yeah, sure."
"Can you give me the name of the man who was with youhere
tonight?"
"Archibald Talaverra," I answer robotically. I guess Arch being
pretentious and giving me his full name paid off. I almost smile,
yet it's anything but funny.
The sheriff doesn't speak right away. I glance at him and note
his bushy black eyebrows are raised high on his forehead.
"Talaverra, huh? This man might've done you a favor," he says,
muttering the last part.
"What?" I squeak out, the corners of my eyes rounding.The sheriff sighs and runs a hand through his thick, dark hair.
In his younger years, I'm sure he was attractive. But now, silver is
invading his hair, and wrinkles line the edges of his eyes and
mouth. He looks aged and weathered, and over the years, I've
watched his eyes grow dull and tired.
"The Talaverra's are known criminals," he informs me.
My eyes pop, and in that moment, I realize my mother did a
terrible job raising me. My life choices are questionable at best
lately.
I'm going to need to have a long hard talk with the She-Devil
from above. She's been trying to kill me off, I think. And I'm
starting to wonder if I should just let Her.
"What kind of criminals?"
Sheriff Walters twists his chapped lips to the side, seeming to
contemplate what he wants to say.
"Nothing has been proven. Never any sufficient evidence. But
they deal in cocaine primarily. Allegedly," he tacks on at the end,
side-eyeing me. "What I can say is Archibald has been accused of
domestic violence by his ex-wife several times. He's gotten out of
the charges unscathed, of course. But he's known to bea very
violent man."
I turn my head and cover my face with my hands.
Sheriff Walters pats my back awkwardly, assuming I'm crying.
But my eyes are as dry as theSahara Desert. I'm too angry to cry.
Angry at myself for being so stupid and taking a random man
home.
Angry for getting that man killed. Aman that is connectedto a
dangerous family.
"Will his family come after me?"
"No," heresponds sharply. "That family has a list of enemies a
mile long. They're not going to concern themselves with a random
girl. They might look into you, but when they don't find anything,
they'll start looking into whoever they pissed off."
I nod my head, slightly assured by that.
"That is, if they don't find out about the rose."
My heart sinks like a rock into a well. I lift my head and look at
him, catching onto his meaning."That rose was personal, Adeline. Do you know what it
means?"
"I… I have a stalker. I've made several reports lately about my
house being broken into and roses popping up everywhere I go."
The sheriff's brows scrunch.
"I looked into your file. There are no reports made about a
stalker."
My spine snaps straight as shock blasts through me.
"What do you mean?" I ask, my voice shrill and angry."I've
made several!"
"Calm down," Sheriff Walterssays, splaying his hands out in a
gesture that matches his words. "I'll take a deeper look when I get
back to the precinct. Can you tell me now what's been going on?"
Forcing my heart to slow, I relay everything that's been
happening. With the random glasses of alcohol being drunk while
I was home alone. The roses. And the notecard with the ominous
threat.
Sheriff Walters listens tentatively, pulling out a notepad and
taking notes as I speak. When I'm finished, I feel even more
exhausted than before.
"I'll look into it. But Adeline? You understand that if the
Talaverra's find out you have a stalker, they might place blame?"
I rear back, completely baffled that a cop is warning me that a
criminal family could come after me. But he's never beenone to
sugarcoat or hide truths. On several occasions, my dad would ask
details about certain things, and the sheriff would alwaysdivulge
whatever he was allowed to.
There were a few times Mom had to snap at the two men for
grisly conversations at the dinner table—in front of a child, no
less. Sheriff Walters would apologize, but he never actually looked
sorry.
"I'll do everything in my power to stop that from happening," he
assures. Somehow, that doesn't make me feel any better in the
slightest.
Sighing, I turn away and stare out into the dense trees, the red
and blue lights flickering and creating a shadow dance party.
I nod my head, accepting hishelp for what it is. This man isn't
going to be able to do a damn thing to stop a criminal from walking up to my doorstep.
Whether it's a crime family or a fucking stalker..
************************************
September 10th,1944...
I haven't seen Ronaldo in three days.
Three days of wondering where he is. If something to him. My thoughts spiralled.
John and I got in a fight. He says I've changed. That I'm no longer the woman he fell in love with. I'm distant now. When he wants to have sex, I'm not interested.
I've began to feel like I'm cheating, but not on my husband. It feels like I'm cheating on my visitor.
There wasn't much I could say to assure my husband I still love him other than those three words.
They've began to feel empty when i say them.
Based off the hollowness in his eyes, those three words have began to feel hollow to him, too.
I'm losing my husband slowly,but surely.
And I'm ashamed to admit that I don't mind that too much.
💋