chapter 2

I wish I could say that the cops showed up in time to catch the bad guys. I wish I could say that my parents survived. I wish I could say these things, but I can't. The cops did show up, and they did manage to find one of the men, the one whose partner left him. He booked down the street shortly after I called the police, but they found him when a woman spotted him trying to hide in a dumpster behind Quiznos. The one in the car was long gone by now, I'm sure. The only thing useful the cops managed to do was give me the name of the man who didn't get away. Tyler Rich. That's irony isn't it? That a man named rich would be trying to break in and rob houses. He hasn't snitched on his partner yet, and he claims it was the partner that pulled the trigger. Typical. The handgun found inside will tell the truth soon enough, I expect. It doesn't matter much. As far as I'm concerned, they both deserve a bullet.

 

I've got some time now while I wait for the cops to decide what to do with me. So I might as well explain a few things. You already know my name is Jake, Jacob actually, and that I'm seventeen. I'm the only son of Helen and Robert Staffer. What else is important about me? Oh yeah... I go though hell and survive to tell this to you. I get into some tight spots running my mouth when I shouldn't but it usually turns out alright. I'd get into alot less fights if I wasn't so likeable. Sounds full of myself, but believe me that's about the only good quality I have. I'm stubborn as hell and because of that I prefer to go it alone. Other people are unpredictable, so I prefer to stay unattached.

 

The rattle of a doorknob broke my concentration. The pigs walked in, two of them in full uniform; all hats guns and badges. "Have you got any family you could stay with?"  the taller one asks me. "An aunt or uncle maybe?" I don't tell him about my uncle Marcus. I don't like the guy, I don't like his third (or is it fourth?) wife, and I sure as hell don't want any sympathy from the likes of them. "Yeah, I mean its a ways out, but I've got my grandparents over in eastern Washington" I reply.

"No one closer" the short cop asks, with a look of frustration on his face that made me wonder if he was the one charged with taking me there.

"Look, I'm almost eighteen. Couldn't I just go to a hotel or something?"

The look on he gave me was answer enough.

 

Fifteen minutes later, I was in the passenger seat of a patrol car with the short cop (his name was Reid) driving me down interstate 90 toward the middle of nowhere, better known as Moses Lake. I was starting to feel going to my uncles would have been the better choice. The long haul drive with "mister not talkative" left me alone with my thoughts way too much for my taste. My parents were dead, their killers were alive, and I was powerless to do ANYTHING. These were not thoughts I wanted to deal with for four hours of silent driving. At least Reid was speeding, we could get this over with that much sooner. I considered running for it at the next rest stop. I considered stealing the cops sidearm and hijacking his squad car. I considered alot of fool things, but I'm not stupid. I sat like a good boy and contemplated murder. It was in the darkness of that cop car that I vowed to kill the men responsible. Which brings us to why I'm writing this. Because, this record of my thoughts and actions will prove to anyone interested that I'm no wackjob psychotic. No matter what happens, I may be a criminal but I'm not crazy. And if there is one thing that sane people don't do it's refer to themselves in the third person. (Note to Self: rewrite all the crazy out of the beginning)

Reviews

[Miss Marie Riorden.]

Pretty good. You know. Keep writing on it. It's still good. I love how you have the "Note to Self" at the end.