Entwined

Chapter 1- Dewey

Chapter 1- Dewey

The walk to the crime scene is a familiar one.  It's been a long time since I've graced a crime scene; I feel slight anticipation of being involved again.  I don't even remember when the last time it was that I felt needed, or I was contributing something to the world.  For so long, I have just existed, only in what I could.  I have been a lifeless, and empty shell. No purpose, just a soul wandering around the earth for years.

            I finished watching Gale on Today, after being interrupted.  Despite what is going on, no one will interrupt my morning ritual of spending time with Gale.

          I have quickly sobered and cleaned myself up, so I can attempt to help with the murders and the domino effect of the new string of murders will do. Who knows this or have more experience in this than I do?  I owe it to Woodsboro.

            If I am honest with myself, this gives me a sense of purpose.  It took me a few minutes to absorb everything, and get over my self-pity, before I realized that I have to get involved.  Once I had the eye opener, courage and confidence immediately found me.  Even though I told them both to stay away, I wasn't sure I'd be able to do it without the two of them, but I soon realized that they both had to stay away and I could do this on my own, that I needed to. 

I feel a surge of fear, but also adrenaline, as I pace myself, coming upon the crime scene.  I've been to many crime scenes of ghostface's murders, but this one seems different.  It feels different and I don't know why.  In the same way it's different, I know that I am also different.  I don't know if it's because I've changed, or I am hurt over this happening again or I just don't have anything to lose anymore.  Maybe, I'm just tired and broken now.  I've been stabbed nine times.  Sometimes, I wonder how I've gotten so lucky to escape death so much.  I am most definitely not the same Dewey I was when I first went through this. 

  Subconsciously, I have stayed here, to be the lighthouse keeper, knowing what this town has been through the last twenty-five years, but vowing to make sure it is safe as possible.  It's the place I was born, grew up in,and made a life of my own. I could never fully ever leave it behind.  A hint of regret and blame come over me as I realize that I haven't protected this town enough, because ghostface is back.

            I put it in the back of my mind, even more so the last few years, that maybe it was finally over for good, that we really did put this to rest and this town could finally live in peace.  Now, after everything that is happening, I truly believe that it will never be over and no matter how much I try, this will always draw me back, no matter where I am, and whether I want it to or not.  It will always be a fight that I need to fight, whether I want to or not.   It's a part of me, just as I know that it is a part of Gale and Sidney.

            My heart immediately leaps when Gale crosses my mind again, and I find myself reaching for my pocket to take out my phone, to see if she's answered my text message, or if she's called and I've just missed it with everything going on. It amazes me how my body still reacts to even just the thought of her. It's been years since I've touched her, talked to her, or since she has graced my presence.We were married and lived together for over seventeen years, yet I can barely remember the sound of her voice, yet at the same time can clearly smell her perfume aroma.

            I miss her so much.  I miss the way she'd twirl her fingers in her hair when she was in deep thought, or her humming in the shower early in the morning.  I miss her hogging the bed and consistently pulling the covers offof me in the middle of the night because she is always cold. I even miss all the times she tried to treat me, by cooking for me, with most of the time it going horribly wrong.  She was never a great cook, in fact, she was horrible, but I always admired her attempt. I miss the curl of her lip when she was sleeping, that would normally turn into a peaceful smile once she was in a deep slumber, or the way she'd bite down on a pen, when she was thinking about what to write.