Full speed

Chapitre 1

Steve 

Here we go again with the same tired speech.

"I didn't see the sign in the corner! Please, can you just spare me this time? I really didn't mean to—it's my first time—"

"Sir, not seeing the sign isn't an excuse," I cut in. "Besides, you were going full speed inside the village."

"That's... that's—agh, okay. I'll take the ticket."

Good. I didn't have the patience to let the conversation drag on. I was exhausted, and my shift was ending in a matter of minutes. The driver pulled away in his blue sedan as soon as I handed back his license. It was always the young ones—clueless about how lethal a heavy foot could be on these narrow village roads.

A wave of memory crashed over me without warning. The phone ringing... my father's shattered sob... my heart aching. I swallowed hard, forcing down the lump in my throat, and released a long sigh.

When the clock finally freed me, I headed straight to the gym. Nothing silences a noisy mind like brutal physical exertion. I didn't care how drained I felt from duty; stepping onto that floor was non-negotiable. It was a routine, a form of therapy I'd relied on for twenty years, ever since I was sixteen.

An hour later, I walked out with a clear head, slinging my backpack over my left shoulder. It had been a long day, as usual, but the edge was gone. I drove over to my father's house, parked in the driveway, and unlocked the front door with my spare key.

"Hello! Dad, how was your day?"

He was at the stove, the kitchen filled with the mouth-watering aroma of baking pizza. It was my mother's favorite—an undeniable classic for any Italian.

"Good, son. How was yours?" Unlike Mom, Dad was Black American, his warm voice instantly grounding the room.

I pulled out a chair at the kitchen table. "Same as always, nothing special. The only thing I was looking forward to was coming here tonight."

It was our unshakeable Friday night ritual: catching up over a home-cooked meal, just the two of us. I turned my head toward the framed photo hanging on the wall—me, Dad, Mom, and my little sister.

"Me too, son... me too," he murmured softly.

We didn't need many words; the silence between us was comfortable and understood.

"I'm proud of you, Steve."

I looked at him with a gentle smile. "Thank you, Dad. I'm proud to be your son, and I'm grateful for everything you've done for me."

He smiled back, but as the room quieted down, the weight of the house settled in. Even after twenty-two years, the place felt hollow. Yet at the same time, the memories inside were suffocating—my sister's ringing laugh, my mother dancing across the tile, the sharp Italian accent and expressive hand gestures whenever she got worked up. Every corner was crowded with ghost-like traces of them.

All of it had been cut short by a careless kid in his twenties who couldn't be bothered to slow down through the village. He killed the two most precious women in my life in a single instant. Two lives ended by death, and one ended behind bars.

I was so deep in the flashback that I didn't notice my dad approaching until he lightly swatted my arm with his spatula.

"Ouch!" I laughed. "You're still pretty quick for someone in his sixties."

He raised an eyebrow, a grin tugging at his lips. "And I always will be, muscle boy. You think just because you grew an inch taller than me and put on some mass you can take me? Oh boy, you're dead wrong."

"Alright, fair enough, Jack," I admitted, chuckling. "No one beats 'The Ghost.'"

'The Ghost' was his street-boxing moniker back in his teenage years, a legend among the local boys who couldn't land a single clean hit on him.

"Ah, the good old days, son. The good old days."

A bright spark lit up his eyes as he launched into stories from his youth. I'd heard every single one of them a hundred times, but seeing the joy flood his face made every rerun worth it.

Time slipped away quickly, and before we knew it, midnight had arrived. I gave my father a tight hug goodbye and stepped out into the night. My apartment was only a short drive away.

Inside, I headed straight for the bed, letting my mind go completely blank the moment my head hit the pillow. Tomorrow night, my next shift would begin down near the forest—and I needed all the rest I could get.