Post by det. chase richard jackson on Aug 15, 2010 23:57:50 GMT -5
Note:: I felt the need to do this, I am hoping it will be as good as I think it is going to be. This takes place right after Chase's latest encounter with Siena Montgomery, Chase just found out from his boss that his father was arrested for the murder of his mother. This is his secret.
Midnight, Chase was up. A bottle of Jack and a handgun in each hand. An empty police station, he was supposed to be on call tonight. He said screw it. His father just confessed to a crime Chase Jackson swore in front of court that he didn't do. His father murdered his mother.
Blasphemy! Chase couldn't believe it, he vouched for years for his father, he even put him in hiding. He betrayed him, he destroyed his life. But they said that his father had no mention of him in his confession, he said that Chase had no idea. That he lied to his own son, claimed that he was being hunted by drug runners and dealers.
No matter how hard Chase tried to drown the pain of the truth, he knew it was just that. The truth. Everyone had their skeletons, apparently his closet is crammed full of them. It made him sick. It made him want to put the Colt .45 to his temple and pull the trigger. His drunken thoughts were delighted for this to happen.
Another side of him, wanted to put the Colt .45 to his fathers temple and pull the trigger, but even in his drunken state Chase knew that vengeance was not the answer. He was just simply alone now.
The case of Abigail Hollows was taking it's toll on the young drunken detective, no leads, no clues, and no one willing to stick out their necks for someone they claim they loved. These rich penny clenching scumbags made him sick. He was glad he had to work his way to the top.
The drunken man stood and walked to a mirror in his office, his eyes were glazed and bloodshot, his face was pink and his breath was horrible. Looking at himself he was revolted, he was supposed to be a savior, a hero, something that he has always wanted to be. Chase dropped the bottle of Jack and it shattered on the floor, the remaining contents spilling onto the floor.
The handgun still rested in his hands. The cool metal of the trigger called his name. Would he give into temptation? Was he a bigger man than his father? Was he truly a savior and a hero? The cool barrel of the .45 rested on his temple, the trigger chanting to him. Should he pull it and end it all now?
Clenching the weapon in his fist, Chase aimed his hand right at the mirror, with a crash shards of glass covered the floor, fragments stuck into his knuckles, the Colt clattered onto the ground and simply rested there.
It was at this moment that a new man was born, a man that would do what ever he needed to do to solve the case of Abigail Hollows. A man who would never pick up another bottle of booze, and a man who would never quit.
A brand new Chase Jackson was born.
Midnight, Chase was up. A bottle of Jack and a handgun in each hand. An empty police station, he was supposed to be on call tonight. He said screw it. His father just confessed to a crime Chase Jackson swore in front of court that he didn't do. His father murdered his mother.
Blasphemy! Chase couldn't believe it, he vouched for years for his father, he even put him in hiding. He betrayed him, he destroyed his life. But they said that his father had no mention of him in his confession, he said that Chase had no idea. That he lied to his own son, claimed that he was being hunted by drug runners and dealers.
No matter how hard Chase tried to drown the pain of the truth, he knew it was just that. The truth. Everyone had their skeletons, apparently his closet is crammed full of them. It made him sick. It made him want to put the Colt .45 to his temple and pull the trigger. His drunken thoughts were delighted for this to happen.
Another side of him, wanted to put the Colt .45 to his fathers temple and pull the trigger, but even in his drunken state Chase knew that vengeance was not the answer. He was just simply alone now.
The case of Abigail Hollows was taking it's toll on the young drunken detective, no leads, no clues, and no one willing to stick out their necks for someone they claim they loved. These rich penny clenching scumbags made him sick. He was glad he had to work his way to the top.
The drunken man stood and walked to a mirror in his office, his eyes were glazed and bloodshot, his face was pink and his breath was horrible. Looking at himself he was revolted, he was supposed to be a savior, a hero, something that he has always wanted to be. Chase dropped the bottle of Jack and it shattered on the floor, the remaining contents spilling onto the floor.
The handgun still rested in his hands. The cool metal of the trigger called his name. Would he give into temptation? Was he a bigger man than his father? Was he truly a savior and a hero? The cool barrel of the .45 rested on his temple, the trigger chanting to him. Should he pull it and end it all now?
Clenching the weapon in his fist, Chase aimed his hand right at the mirror, with a crash shards of glass covered the floor, fragments stuck into his knuckles, the Colt clattered onto the ground and simply rested there.
It was at this moment that a new man was born, a man that would do what ever he needed to do to solve the case of Abigail Hollows. A man who would never pick up another bottle of booze, and a man who would never quit.
A brand new Chase Jackson was born.
