The Revenge Of Emmett Daze (#1 In The Brimstone Series)

Prologue- Was it my Fault?

Sunday ,September 19, 2016

People say that the weather can reflect people's emotions.

Emma stood at the grave of her best friend. Her mind in turmoil as the intense downpour chilled her to the bone. The rain came down so hard and so fast that she was soaking wet before she could even think about putting up her dingy umbrella. Not that it offered her that much shelter anyway.

She just... Couldn't bring herself to move.

She was cold, uncomfortable and in her mind swirled dark thoughts.

She just couldn't move from that spot.

She clenched her hand around the umbrella, and winced. Her hand was still sore from punching Brett Simmons in the face a couple of days ago at the Sheriff's Station.

It was worth it though.

She smirked, thinking back.

She had just arrived at the station, demanding answers. Her friend hadn't even disappeared a full week yet and they wanted to call off the search. She wasn't happy and confronted the Sheriff. She was about to blow a gasket; you could hear her shouting from a mile away. They tried to calm her down, but she wasn't hearing it.

Then he showed up.

He was always a sleazebag, trying to sleep with anything with a skirt. The star quarterback of the football team, plus he had looks, and he knew it. He had tried with Emma on several occasions, but a firm "No" always greeted his smug face. He gave up eventually. He didn't like girls who he had to put in work for. He was as lazy as his father, the mayor. But what irked her the most about him was that his father made sure to cover up his mistakes. As long as his father was backing him, he could get away with anything.

Emma always wondered how he got re-elected every year. 

Small towns were hell.

"Sheriff Gayle, I don't understand!" she remembered saying. She was pleading with him. "I need your help!"

He sighed, running his hand through his greying strands. He was getting too old for this crap."I'm sorry Em. My hands are tied. We don't have the resources-"

"Screw the resources! You just don't care!" She was fuming, and ignored all the sheriff's warnings to calm down. "A boy allegedly jumps off a cliff and you're telling me that you can't use one boat to at least try and look for his body? Four days isn't enough!" She glared at him, waiting for an answer.

He opened his mouth, but she cut him off.

"I bet if it was the mayor's son out there everyone would be out there probably coming through every goddamn molecule of water to try and find him." She folded her arms, glaring at him again, waiting for him to object.

Then it hit her.

"He did it, didn't he?" she said softly, her eyes wide. He heard her, and scrunched up his face.

"Who?" he asked puzzled.

"You know damn well who I'm talking about!" she was mad again. "Everybody knows that Brett Simmons bullied my friend day in and day out! And no one would do a damn thing about it!" She slammed her fist into the front desk.

"Now hold on Missie," the sheriff replied with sass. "There was no proof of that-"

"Oh shut up!" She screamed, silencing the whole station. "You're just gonna push it aside because the mayor signs your paycheck!"

"Excuse me?" His face was beet red now. He was getting angry. But she didn't care. She was tired of all the secrets. Of all the lies. She was gonna get to the bottom of it one way or the other.