A Liberated Decision - COMPLETED!

Chapter 35

Being back in uniform was definitely different. Stan had just stripped back into street clothes. It had been a short shift today, just requiring him to make his statement for everything that had happened. He prayed that it was enough to keep Ashley out of jail. It was what Tom would have wanted him to do – watch out for one of his girls.

"It sucks not being back out on the streets patrolling, doesn't it?" Officer Adrian Carter was just stepping into his uniform for his next shift. He warily eyed Stan up, as if waiting for agreement. An agreement that would provide enough words to possibly figure out his mental state.

Stan snapped his head up after tying his shoes. "Eh, a break from being on the streets is kind of nice right now. I think I needed it."

"Yeah?" Carter pulled on the officer's hat that tied in the black outfit. "I bet. Too bad that girl and other kid didn't die out on the streets too. The likes of them can rot in hell after what that gang did to your brother."

Stan snapped at the mention. He rushed Carter and shoved him up against a locker. "What'd you say?" His face had contorted into anger. His voice dangerously low.

"Whoa, Fletcher, man! What'd I say?" Carter's eyes were wide with alarm. "I just said that bitch and her gangster friend should rot in hell after what they did to your brother."

"That bitch tried to save my brother's life." He growled through clenched teeth. His knuckles were white from gripping the fellow officer's uniform. "She doesn't deserve any of this!" He snapped and pulled free of the man. He backed a few feet away. Putting a safe distance between the two. There was no way that he could guarantee not lunging at the man again, and distance was his only hope of holding back his temper and emotions.

"Hey, I'm sorry, Fletch. I didn't know." Carter smoothed his uniform out. His gray eyes flashed an apology. It made Stan feel guilty; he swallowed it down though, in an attempt to keep his instability to himself.

Stan didn't know what to say to him. He had been keeping all of his feelings locked away. He didn't know how to react with people beyond a professional level yet, other than to get mad at them. He had needed to be strong for Ashley and Chase. He had needed to put aside anything that had affected him from doing his job properly. Duty was first, before emotions.

"Are you okay, Fletch? A lot's happened to you lately." Carter was clearly resisting the urge to put a hand on Stan's shoulder. "You and your brother were pretty close. We all loved him."

"Don't matter how close we were. He's dead now." Stan grabbed his black leather jacket and walked out of the room. He didn't have time for sentiments. No time for people to feel sorry for him. The air felt suffocating as he tried once again to lock down his feelings. It was useless this time. He needed air. He needed to escape.

Blindly, he pushed his way past other cops giving him their respect and flashing him their apologetic looks. He couldn't take it anymore. Between that and going through the hours of debriefing. Being questioned about every possible detail. It was more than he was able to handle.

He burst through the front doors and rushed down the seven or eight cement steps to the ground below. He jumped on his motorcycle. His jaw set hard and a lump forming in his throat. He wasn't sure where he'd end up, but he needed to get away. Now.

The neighborhoods and trees blurred by. A rush of colors that smashed together in a fury. He didn't pay attention to them. He just drove. Letting the wind whip through his short, messy hair. The growl of the bike wasn't loud enough to drown out the thoughts billowing over in his mind. He was tired. Tired of the pain that threatened to overwhelm him. To bring him to his knees in an undeniable fury that no one could stop.