The Driving Instructor

2: Lifeless

I Have Nothing - Whitney Houston

[02]

My father is laying absolutely lifeless on the floor. My mum is crying, knelt beside his drained body. How could it happen so fast? Where are the knife wounds, or whatever wounds? How could he just be gone so quickly without saying goodbye?

"How could this happen?" I chortle, knowing my mum won't answer but I still feel the need to be heard. "Dad has never had any medical issues, mum."

I hear a car pull up outside and I pray that it is the ambulance. When I open the door, I am greeted by a rather mysterious looking officer. "I have come here to check your house?"

"Please, officer, help us!" He looks shocked as I cry out in desperation. "My dad," are the only words I manage to utter. He follows me into the living room quickly. His face drops straight away, as if to say "oh".

My mum or sister are nowhere to be seen and their suitcases are gone. Of course. Perfect timing. They probably took the car, too. My mother should be here, by her husband, cradling him, seeing his last breath.

The officer stares at me, then back at the body. "You're under arrest for the suspicion of Jeffrey Austin's death."

"What? You really think I'm capable of killing my own father? Are you insane?" I counter-react. There's no use, I'm already in cuffs before I can interject any more.

The officer escorts me out and I watch as paramedics swarm the house I grew up in. "Whatever you say can and will be held against you." The officer retorts, sounding like he knew it all too well. I had never heard those words before and hoped I never would get a first hand experience.

He pushes me into the back seat, strapping me in and not paying any attention to me whatsoever. "Good luck," he remarked as I stared at the boring seats and realised this could be the last time I saw the inside of a car. It's grey interior lacked everything. Cosiness, colour, creativity.

I went to rub below my eye with my left hand and soon came to realisation my right came with it, too. I settled on just plainly twiddling my thumbs as a car drove past, the occupants of the vehicle staring suspiciously at me. They had given me dirty looks as if I was a pile of vomit swamped with tons of flies. I wasn't ready to drive through the town to the police station. Our police station here was completely empty because they were simply too scared. They couldn't do their jobs as sitting ducks waiting to be mercilessly murdered.

The officer clambered into the drivers seat, another officer joining him in the passengers seat. "Did you go over the protocol, Samuels?" the female officer in the passengers seat asked the one who had arrested me.

"Yes," he said, pulling out of the parking lot next to my front porch and driving down the road. "What did you find?"

She starts writing on a notepad, looking up to think. "There was no sign of a struggle. I need to check his medical records. That girl you got back there, she doesn't look capable of hurting a fly. Do you really think she was capable of killing her own father?"

I sit there, tapping my foot on the floor of the car, pretending they're not talking about me when I'm right there. She's correct; I couldn't hurt a fly if I tried. My father is dead and now I have no one. My mother has most likely taken Riley and my grandparents to my grandparents' summer house, situated in France. I've only been there once, there's no way I'd know where it is.

Everything is happening so fast, I had only just found out that there is a murderer killing my neighbours, one by one.

"Don't tell me what she looks like, I don't care. I don't know what she's capable of, all right? She was the only one at home when I got there. It's got to be her, I know it." The driver spews, completely wrong but convincing himself he's absolutely correct.