52 Barn Street

PROLOGUE

The calm before the storm...
February 17

Calm.

I felt unexplainably calm. A storm was brewing on the inside of me but right amidst the storm, I felt calm. Unexplainably calm.

Was I supposed to feel this way?
I couldn't think of an answer to that question.

The sky was anything but beautiful. Dreary, pale grey clouds lazily floated about, the sun partly hidden behind them.
It felt so cold outside.

How could I possibly quell the storm inside my heart?
The maelstrom of conflicting emotions—guilt,
sadness, hurt, anger, grief, sorrow— raging to be unleashed.

They had to be locked up inside of me. I still felt calm though. Unexplainably calm.

At my side, a firm but gentle hand gripped my trembling fingers.  My mother.

My trembling fingers showed just how much emotions were caged in. That was the only give away. My face remained passive though. And my eyes blank, hidden away behind the sun shades I wore.

In front of me, the pastor continued his speech I had not been paying much attention to;
“Dearly beloveds, we are gathered here, not just to mourn but also to celebrate a life who will never be forgotten.”

Sobs got louder around me and I gritted my teeth, trying to hold everything in. The pastor cleared his throat but then continued with a slight tremble in his voice;

“Detective Lowe Shepherds was like a son to me, and more than just that, he was a father— a great one— a husband, a friend, a neighbour, a man dedicated to justice! He believed in doing what was right, fair and he—”

At this point, the pastor pulled out a linen handkerchief from his pocket and immediately wiped his eyes. Clearing his throat

“He fought for the good of the society even until the end. He...he...” The pastor cleared his throat once more time, and brought his handkerchief to his  tear filled eyes again.

“He died fighting for what is right. And in his very own words, he'd always say, I'd fight and fight and won't stop until there's no fight left in me anymore.”

The sobs around me in turn got louder and there was a distinct wail coming from the back. I felt the onset of tears in my eyes. Moisture gathering on my lashes, threatening to spill.
  
The storm within me was stirred up. The storm that I had tried so hard to repress.
  
The pastor said something about souls finding perfect peace but I didn't bother to listen. My fingers were trembling so fast.
  
The calm I once felt? That was receding faster than I could blink. Memories were flashing in front of my eyes in rapid successions. I could still vividly hear my Dad's voice in my ears telling me to keep fighting.

I had to bite down on my lip to hold back a scream that was threatening to tear out of the back of my throat.
  
The rest of the event went by like a blur. Detective Stuart Price, my father's best friend and confidant gave a speech about how good of a cop my father was and how the entire precinct wouldn't give up until his killers were behind bars, to which he was rewarded with a collective murmur of agreement from everyone gathered mingled with the sound of soft sobs.
 
Detective Stuart's gaze caught mine and he gave me a small smile. The kind that said, it's going to be alright.
 
I hoped so. I desperately clung on to that hope that it was all going to be alright and that this was all a dream, a nightmare I'd soon wake up from, startled and breathless, to a reality where my Dad was alive and sound.
Guess what happened to that hope?

It was dashed. Shattered to a million irredeemable pieces.

Why?
  
My father was slowly lowered into the ground and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it.
  
That was the final straw. I couldn't fake the calm anymore.

I ran.

I couldn't tell where I was running to, I just did. Ignoring the footsteps running after me, I pushed forward with tears falling down my cheeks in steady rivulets.
 
One minute I was running and the next I was falling, but I was caught by a pair of strong, muscular arms which drew me close in a tight hug I didn't bother struggling against instead my entire body convulsed with sobs.

A scream tore out of me, then a pained sound. I could hardly recognize my own voice and at some point, I slowly slipped out of consciousness. Detective Stuart held me tighter, I could vaguely recognize the scent of his cologne.