Wolf #1: The Pack [COMPLETED]

Chapter 1

Media Citation: Dawes, Brianna. "Barefootblonde.com." Pinerest, i.pinimg.com/564x/fa/18/e7/fa18e77cbd8ff4379f4530e7af100e1e.jpg.

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Chapter 1

I stand outside the police station and wait for my parents to come back out. In my pocket is a small pack of tissues—the kind people buy when they are sick and don't want to carry a tissue box around. I had brought the large box of tissues as well. It's in the backseat of Dad's car. In Steph's seat.

The parking lot is small—empty save for my family's SUV. I would think that any police station is bustling but apparently Florence, Oregon is crimeless. A crimeless and peaceful city surrounded by Heceta Beach, my hometown. And then my sister died.

The police are investigating her death, but they might as well have ignored it. Everyone is convinced it had been a suicide. Still, the police insist that procedure has to be followed and so my parents were brought in to confirm some finalities before they released her body.

The glass door opens and my mother storms out. I reach for the packet of tissues. She grabs them from me and wipes her eyes. My dad is talking with the detective who has been put in charge of Steph's case.

"Mom," I start but I'm cut off as she wraps her arms tightly around me. Her tears roll off her cheeks and soak my t-shirt. I begin to swallow back my own tears.

"It's done," She whispers, pulling back and cupping my cheek. She smiles and I don't know how or why she does. We are all empty husks now. I can see in my mother's eyes the silhouette of Steph's body swaying in small circles, her eyes staring at me but not seeing.

My stomach lurches and I jerk away from my mom. She wipes her cheeks again just as my dad and the detective approach.

"We appreciate you coming down here," The detective, Abel Andrews-Breccia, says and shakes all our hands. His hand lingers on mine, holding me in place with his grip, "I know this must have been difficult for you."

"We're taking it day by day," My dad says, and I clench my jaw again.

Detective Abel shakes my hand again before he lets go, "We're doing the best we can to wrap this up quickly for you."

"We appreciate it, Detective Abel," My mom whispers softly. She squeezes my shoulder. I look down at my feet and try to stay still and not jerk away from her again.

"There's groups for what you're going through," He says and passes my mother several business cards, "This is never easy for anyone. And it's okay to need help, to be able to talk to people going through the same loss."

I stare at the card on top. Suicide Support.

"She didn't kill herself," I look at Detective Abel quietly.

"We're exploring all possibilities right now," He nods, "But it's looking—"

"She didn't kill herself," I say again and I can see both my parents cringe. We've had this argument endlessly the past three days. Their lack of faith in her makes me jump to her defense, "She didn't!"

"Amelia," My father says quietly and opens my car door, "Please just get in the car."

I look down at the ground to avoid his disappointed look or my mom's crumpled up face. They talk to Detective Abel for a few more minutes before we drive back home. I keep my mouth shut for the rest of the drive. It feels strange to leave Steph behind.