The Mindf*ck Series

Chapter 13

𝘋𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘳𝘦.
—𝘊𝘰𝘯𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘪𝘶𝘴

𝗟𝗔𝗡𝗔

The door slings open, and I watch through the wooden slats of the closet door as the sheriff stomps in, angrily slamming the door behind him. He grabs an empty glass off the table by his recliner and slings it across the room. It shatters against the wall as he roars like a beast enraged.

For a few long minutes, his head hangs, his chest heaves, and he grips the sides of the chair for support. He always puts up a good front, but he’s as mortal as the rest of us.

My smile kicks up as he predictably goes to the bar in the living room, opening the door and pulling out a bottle of whiskey. His hands are shaking when he pours a glass and drinks it down quickly.

Any time the pressure mounts, the sheriff has to have a drink. But he can’t let his deputies see him carry a bible and a glass of whiskey. He can sentence innocent people to a gruesome death, but being so weak as to need a drink is simply unforgivable. Not to mention shameful.

I’d roll my eyes, but I’m busy watching as he takes his gun off, putting it by the door.

Finally.

“𝘠𝘰𝘶’𝘭𝘭 𝘱𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴,” 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘧𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘴, 𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘦 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘤𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘵𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮.

“𝘏𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘶𝘴!” 𝘐 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘪𝘯, 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘳𝘺 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵. “𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺’𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘵𝘩! 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺’𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦! 𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩 𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘵, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘥!”

“𝘑𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴!” 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘶𝘭 𝘶𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘰𝘶𝘵.

𝘈𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘴𝘩𝘶𝘵, 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘧𝘧 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘬𝘴 𝘰𝘶𝘵.

𝘊𝘶𝘧𝘧𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘶𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘴, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘯’𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘤𝘬 𝘶𝘴 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨.

𝘐𝘵’𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘮. 𝘞𝘦’𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦.