Finding the serial killer

Chapter 55

Chapter 55

Jake's POV

Mom was the first person I called this morning to tell her about the call. Two days have passed since that bad news, I have no idea how she is holding everyone together, I know she must be the person everyone leans on right now, she is like that to me. everyone says women are weak, she is the strongest person I've ever seen. I don’t have to worry about anything as long as mom is there. And I'm ashamed to say this as a thirty-two-year-old man. The only reason I still have the courage to see dad, and will have the courage to see Jerry is because of her, I can never hurt her to make her see her family falling apart. She holds the family together, with her claws. I also know that I can't be there right now, with them, I can't comfort them. Two of them three feels like it’s my mistake Stella died so tragic, it’s my fault that she’s not getting the attention she needs because I'm getting all her attention, but the worst part of it all is that I'm not sure if it’s not entirely my fault. I feel like it is. I don’t know how. It’s so twisted.

Whenever I feel unsure, or just scared, mom reads me a poem, a poem I wrote for her before I lost all my memories of writing the only poem of my life. But knowing I wrote it for her makes it even more special when she recites it for me.

Roses are red. Violets are blue,

Daddy said I should just add you.

Candy isn’t sweet without you.

Sorry I'm good as you.

Everything’s good if I just add you,

You make everything hot like you.

But I think I should add one more you.

Daddy said that’s enough seven you.

Okay mommy I love you.

Oops that’s one more you.

She said everyone laughed when I read that line, she said she laughed the loudest, she clapped for me. But I've never saw her laughing when she recites that poem every again, because every time she reads it for me, she tears up, she tries to hide it, but she never could. She still reads it to comfort me, even when it makes her cry.

Nothing calms me like this poem, I feel the guilt on my shoulder lifts up a few pounds. I don’t know why, what she writes is so much better and more meaningful, but she has this poem written on the wall of her room. She says it’s the best present her son has gifted her.

I take that poem doing its work and dressed like I should. I've confirmed I've been reappointed. I didn’t need to call anyone. It was already on the news. I know the precinct would gloat to their decision for my reappointment to quench the public anger a little, it did work. I could go to my home and get dressed without anyone circling me around. And I know everyone in the precinct would hate me if they know I didn’t it all meaning for this to happen. But I'm desperate enough to throw away my pride in the trash.

My insides felt unusual, striking every step against the floor, the loud clicks my shoes makes resonates with me in a scary way. I'm not sure if it is the alcohol I let down my body or the fact them I'm back at the precinct as an employee of course. I didn’t feel this on my first day. I try not to look too much around, I try definitely not to make any eye contact and make my way to my desk.

Good lord.

That’s some scary s**t.

But weirdly everyone is looking my way today… and gosh they are smiling. Warmly.

I run my eyes just to be sure I don’t have a booger blurring my vision. No, they are smiling.