(THE REAL INVESTIGATION)

It had been six days.

Six days since I saw the inside of Blackwood Academy. Six days since I haven't gone back home. Six days since I've turned my phone off and survived off nothing but a burner phone however; it's only been four days since I started my own investigation.

The people who were in charge of this investigation failed to find out the truth, but no matter how long it takes me; I'm determined to find the answer. 

"This is all I can get you Christian," Trevor says his thick Italian accent falling on my ears as he drops a thick file in my hand.

Trevor used to work for my parents, possibly doing all the dirty work behind the scenes. He was also the private investigator my aunt hired when there was an accident.

Something tells me he knows a lot and that he's also highly dangerous. Whether he works for the mob or someone else, I have no interest.

I remain seated on my motorcycle as I take the file from him. I flip it open, skimming through the pages before stopping at a picture of the car.

"This is troubling a closed wound," He says but I ignore him as I gaze at the pictures, dragging my fingers across the photos as if they've just been printed.

He sighs slightly, "Why would you want to go back there?"

I close the file, before I turn the backpack in front of me and secure the papers carefully inside. "Because I don't think it's an accident,"

His brows furrow slightly as he crosses his arms, "You can't possibly expect that we'd miss such a detail right?"

I gaze at him, something vicious inside my voice as I speak, "I don't know Trevor, would you?"

He scoffs ever so slightly as I dig inside of my pockets to grab my wallet, I grab a few stacks of 100s and place it into his shirt pocket before patting it.

"I put a little extra in there for you shut your mouth," I say.

I don't wait for him to reply, I grab my helmet and fasten it over my head before revving my bike which causes him to step back a little.

Once he does, I take off kicking up a bit of dirt as I put a bit of distance between the two of us.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

I get off my bike, placing my helmet under my arm as I head up the stairs of the motel. The pungent smell of piss engulfs my nose, the metal stairs creak under me, vibrating as I take each step.

The walls are thin, covered in flaking paint and graffiti that no one knows about, much less who put it there.

Every room is private, the windows are closed and curtains are draped shut in front the
dusty windows.

Though this place is a motel, you would think it had some kind of standard which it has to follow hygienic being the first.

I guess it doesn't matter since this place looks abandoned from the outside. Though it's quite lively, the drug addicts selling themselves for a pack of cigarettes, the dealers who past by every five hours, even down to the married man who walks in here asking for a room for the night so he can cheat on his wife.

It's anything but dead in this place.

I grab my key from my pocket,before pushing it into the keyhole and twisting the knob. I push open the door and enter only to pull the key out the push the door shut.

I latch the three deadbolts on the door before turning the lock at the bottom which is connected to the knotted.

Walking further into the room, I notice a faint smell of bleach as well as the fleshly made bed. The housekeeper came.

I gaze around the room, noticing all the leftover noodles and takeout gone. The wrappers no longer laying on the floor with the half empty water bottles.

I sigh slightly, not because I miss the mess but because I know it won't last long. It took me two days before I started investigating this case—
doing something else with my life instead of wallowing away in my own thoughts.

I try to avoid sleep, that's why the coffee pot is never empty. My dreams remind me too much or what could've been and that just survives as nothing but a distraction.

I drop my helmet onto the nightstand and place my bag on the creaking desk as I scan for the file. I pull out the brown paper folder and plop myself down onto the crappy chair in front of the even crappier desk of my motel room.

I drop the documents onto the desk and grab a cigarette from the drawer before lighting it.

Placing it between my lips, I open the documents and I take in a deep puff. It stings the back of my throat just before I pull it away from my mouth and push the smoke through my nose.

Looking at the photos cause images to flash in front of my eyes, taking me back to the crash and how it all went down. How control slipped through my dad's fingers so fast.

How two important people last their lives so fast.

The turn flashes in front of me, the heavy rain slamming onto the roof. The car spinning in circles before falling off the road and into the ditch.

The sounds accompany those images, the way the tires screaked, the smash of the windows and the slam of the car hitting the trees.

It all feels like I'm back there, in the backseat of the car. Sitting in the middle so I can sit between my parents and still be able to get a view of the road.

My thoughts are thankfully cut short when my phone buzzes on the table in front of me, prompting me to pick it up so I do. I gaze at the caller ID before placing the phone to my ear.

"Good afternoon, Christian can't come to the phone right now as he's currently understaffed," I say only to be rewarded with a light chuckle from my best friend.

"I just wanted to let you know, the car was never really destroyed, nor investigated,"Liam tells me,"It's not much but I think we can get access to it if I pull a few strings,"

I shake my head, "No no, I don't want you to get involved in this,"

"Christian, I'm already involved, just let me help out alright?" He mutters, a slight tone of worry in his voice.

I sigh, running my temples before speaking, "Alright fine, but if you can't do it just let me know,"

"Will do," he says, "And Christian, be safe out there,"

"Always,"

The line ends as I pull the phone from my ear and placing it back onto the table, face down. As I gaze back at the picture, I feel a strange sense in my stomach.

The entire thing makes no sense, who would hold a car that's nothing but wreckage for so long. Even if other evidence was pilled up, how did they clear what happened as an accident?

Especially if they never got around to looking at it.

I flip through the pages, outing the cigarette into the slightly cracked ashtray inside of this room before stopping at the page with closer pictures of the car.

A close picture shows the front of the car where the brakes are, a sharp cut is slashed across the brake line. It doesn't break the wire into two pieces but it's clear that it had been interfered with.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

𝗼𝗼. ⁞ 𝐀𝐒𝐇 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒 !

Hey guys, I'm not gonna lie, time got away from me. Howeverrr, chapter forty-one is complete, it's finally getting real oh my days, I hope you enjoyed it, chapter fort-two is coming soon.

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