Wiccan Act One: Occult

17 | Sins of the Father

Dedicated to RiRiTheLlama

 Rowan

XVII

The sheriff's station was a peaceful place today.

Rowan hated it.

It looked and felt the same way it did before bodies started popping up dead, everyone to their own devices silently working on cases or filling through paperwork. Oakwood PD was a waste of taxpayer money. All they were good for was giving out speeding tickets and lying to people. Just like his father.

Rowan walked through the doors, ignoring a female officer telling him morning at the front desk. She had a radiant smile plastered on her face, making his stomach turn at the sight. How could she be smiling when Hazel was dead?

He and his sister practically grew up here, coming in to drop dinner for their dad whenever he had to work late nights or when he dragged them in for a scare when they refused to do their homework. The officers on duty would smile and wave, even bring gifts for them on their birthday. Some would come over to the house so they wouldn't be scared of staying home alone, acting as a support system for their beloved sheriff and his kids. Now, however, they were here with smiles on their faces, moving on as if nothing happened.

Anger boiled his blood, steam exiting his ears, forcing Rowan to clench the pile of papers in his hands as he approached the sheriff's office. Rowan's nails dug into the paper, clawing at the material until there were tiny holes all over. Upon walking in, his teeth bit down on each other, tightening his jaw to avoid saying something he shouldn't.

"Hey, son." His father peered up from his desk, quickly hiding a picture under some books. He didn't do it perfectly, however, the corner sticking out to reveal the face of one of the earlier murder victims. A child no older than ten with dark hair and chubby, pale cheeks. The books hid anything else from his line of sight. Rowan stared at him sceptically, refraining from pointing it out.

"What are you doing here?" His dad questioned.

"Usually fathers would be happy to see their son," he answered bluntly. "Especially since we haven't had a face-to-face conversation in what? Days? A week?"

"Rowan I-" He stuttered, sweat forming on his forehead. "You know how much work I've had on my plate with the whole incident. When I come home, you are fast asleep and I don't want to wake you."

Bullshit.

His father had taken extra shifts at the station before and even then he would run home whatever chance he got to check in on him and Hazel. Now, Rowan would lie in the dark of his room and wait until he heard the car engine hum to a stop and the click of the front door. He would watch the light in the hallway come on and his father's shadow walk past his room without hesitation. Snores would echo the silent house, becoming his only company in the dead of night.

"A lot on your plate? But you arrested that murderer two weeks ago." He avoided talking about his gripes and instead kept the topic on course.

"It's not that simple."

"Well then, explain it to me then because I want to know why he's still here instead of in an actual prison waiting on a death sentence!"

His voice boomed, causing heads to turn towards the large glass windows of the office. He wanted that disgusting piece of shit to hear him in the holding cells. Deep down Rowan wanted him to fear what might happen to him, how he would soon feel the pain he put Hazel through.