R.I.P Bon

Chapter 7

I found myself squinting as I pulled into the parking lot of the local police station, struggling to see in the afternoon sun that seemed to be penetrating straight through the class of my car window and into my eyes. It was a warm afternoon, the sound of waves crashing gently on the beach in the distance, seagulls gathering to claim the final food scraps of the day. A beautiful day, I thought to myself, and yet this did little to ease the feeling of uneasiness that weighed down the pit of my stomach with such great force. I had avoided this visit to the station for as long as possible, and as much as the thought of sitting down and being questioned to no end about Bon's suicide made me feel physically ill, the longer I found myself putting it off, the heavier this feeling of uneasiness seemed to get.

I began making my way toward the front counter of the station, feeling like some sort of criminal, turning myself in for the most terrible crime. I am the reason my best friend is dead, I should have been there for him, I should have been able to prevent this all from happening. So lock me up, I'm a cold blooded killer. But before I had even made my way to the counter and was able to confess to any of this, I was met mid-stride by one of the officer's, holding his hand out for me to to shake it. He wore a smile on his middle aged face, but I didn't trust it to be true. As I took his hand in mine and shook it, he spoke.

“Afternoon Tyler, I'm detective Montgomery.”

I recognised his voice before his name or appearance registered in my mind; as the detective that had questioned me in Bon's front yard. I forced a smile in response, the best that my uneasy stomach would allow for now.

“I was beginning to wonder when you were going to show up,” he chuckled lightly, although his dark brown eyes showed no sign of humor. “If you'll just follow me this way please,” he said, gesturing to one of the hallways that led further into the station.

As I followed him down the hall, I struggled to keep up with his fast stride, and found myself stumbling over my own feet more often than not. I had always wondered what it would feel like to be the guilty suspect of a crime, being taken in for questioning. And on any other day, I would have found this whole experience thrilling, fueling my childhood curiosity, but today, today as I walked down that never ending hallway I could physically feel myself walking closer and closer to something terrible.

Suddenly Montgomery stopped in his tracks and pushed a heavy gray door open and entered, holding it open for me on the other side. As I entered after him he gestured to a chair that sat on the furthest side of a large black table.

“If you'd take a seat please,” He said clearly.

The room was noticeably colder than the warm, sunny afternoon that sat just outside of the thick, brick walls. Probably due to the fact that the only window in the room was a few mere inches wide, only allowing a couple of weak streams of sunlight to find its way into the room. Either that or the anxiety that seemed to be flowing through my veins, feeling somewhat suffocating within this small room. I immediately shuddered as sharp chills were sent down my spine.

Montgomery took his seat at the table directly across from me, his notepad and pen at the ready; a sound recorder sitting on the table next to it.

He broke the stillness in the room by clearing his throat, then spoke. “I just wanted to start off by saying that I'm sorry for your loss, and I understand that this isn't the most comfortable situation for you to be in. But having said that I will need you to answer every question to the best of your ability; my primary goal here is to provide some consolidation for Bon's family and loved ones, and finally put this case to rest. We're going to need to work together here; the sooner we come to some form of conclusion as to why this young man took his own life, the sooner this can all be over.”