“You can, it just may cause a lot of doubt with the case regarding your character.” You’ve got to be fucking shitting me.
“So, there’s nothing I can do?” I ask him and he sighs.
“You can fill out a restraining order.”
“Fine.” I grumble up to him and for a second, he looks like he’s relieved.
“Okay,” he flips the page in his notebook, “What’s his name?”
“Jacob Moreland.”
“Moreland?” He looks back up at me and I nod my head. “Fuck,” he mumbles, barely loud enough for me to hear, and he looks at me again.
“Is that a problem?”
“Well,” he pauses, and he leans into me. “It’s not going to make it easy. The Moreland’s have a lot of pull, especially with the sheriff. They practically funded his campaign. If something comes up with their son’s name on it, he’s going to call them before he pushes it through.”
“So, he gets away with it because they have money and he’s not a complete fucking moron?”
“Maybe not get away with it, but you can expect a visit from his parents and probably him before it even goes through.” He nods his head.
“My father has always been right.” I look back at him, shaking my head. “Cops are fucking worthless.”
“Ella,” the detective leans back in. I’m guessing if something is recording, it can’t hear us. “This time, it may be better for your father to take matters into his own hands.”
“This is bullshit.” I mutter as I stand up and storm out of the room.
Before I yank the door open, I hear him sigh, “I agree.”
Pulling into the drive, I rush up the steps into the living room before I break down into tears.
If I could just get some sleep, maybe I would feel a little better.
Moving into my bedroom, the second that I see the bed again and the ruffled sheets, it causes my stomach to turn, but I push down the bile that is threatening to rise and I strip the sheets off of the bed.
This time, it may be better for your father to take matters into his own hand. I think about his words as I pull the sheets off of the bed.
I can’t tell my father. Not only because he will fucking gut the prick and leave his entrails all over the city just to warn everyone what he is fucking capable of if you mess with me, but also because it would break his heart. He would blame himself. He wouldn’t know how to process his emotions… and that, my friend, is when overkill happens.
Staring at the bed once it’s made, I can’t bring myself to lie down on it.
Instead, I just stare at my mattress and contemplate what I’m going to do.
Heading into the kitchen, I reach up for dad’s whiskey that he keeps above the fridge, and I take a few swallows of it. I have had nothing to drink really since Fury’s wedding when I downed Axe’s drink after he left it on the bar. So, almost as soon as the liquid flows down my throat, I can start feeling it take effect as I walk back into my bedroom.
