Thicker Than Blood

Chapter 2: Just Another Shift

       After 10 minutes of driving across town, I approach Ronnie's in the heart of old historic Butte.  Just like Ronnie's once bright and vivid neon sign now flickering outside of the bar, the town has seen better days.

       Going to Ronnie's for most people was a weekly routine; you were guaranteed a crazy and fun time filled with no dull moments. For me, it was the complete opposite. As my weekly routine for attending Ronnie's is to deal with these other weekly users when they seemed to have had just enough.  What was worse than the stumbling drunks at Ronnie's had to be the fights.

       At least 5 times a week, mostly Friday or Saturday nights, are when the calls come in. Just like tonight, there was a fight between two individuals.  And when they are addressed by us, the county police, there is nothing we can do except throw the two in a cell overnight down at the station and release them the next day only to end up back at Ronnie's with us.  God, these people, no... things are something I believe no other county within a 100-mile radius contains. 

       I finally enter the bar, walking in to a familiar scene. I am hit with the strong odour of booze and bodily fluids, also known as "Ronnie's special".  By passing the smell, I can see the two suspects over by a booth. I then proceed to walk over at a moderate pace, head down.  I can then hear the two gentlemen's voices getting louder with every step I take. 

       I finally lift my head up only to see one of the younger looking man's arm raised with his hand in a fist.  Ready to strike the other guy in his dumb, drunken face. 

       I start to pick up my feet and hustle over to the two.  Grabbing a hold of the raised arm and ripping it away from him.

       "What the hell is going on here?" I let out in frustration.

       The two men then start to yell at each other, trying tell me what had happened prior to my arrival.

       "He was hitttin' on my girl, officer," the college student said.  Putting his arms up to his body with his hands curled outwards as if he felt guilty.  But I know the people in this town, and no one feels remorse. 

       The other man then spoke up, "Tell me then, why she was coming onto me?"

       The kid's face turned a beet red, clinching his fist tightly next to his thigh as he knew he could do nothing.  I admit, I would have sucker punched the dude too.  Not cause of the girl, just because he had a reputation around town for getting involved with married woman and other guy's girlfriends. 

       Once the two had settled down, I took their names and some information on them.  After I had finished with the two men, I let them off with a sturdy warning and forcefully told them "Don't let this happen again.  I do not want to see both of your faces for the next week!"  Though, I knew I would be seeing at least one of them the next night.

       Exiting the front doors of Ronnie's and into my cruiser, I take a deep breathe in.  Keeping the air in a bit longer.  Immediately after the air had left my lungs, water started to drip from beneath my eye lashes.  Eventually turning into the streams that had once before brought great joy to my... life. 

       In this moment I needed to escape. I needed to go somewhere where I could hear myself think without the distractions of this town.  I needed to leave.  And I knew the perfect spot for it.  Turning the key in the car's ignition, letting the car guide me as my mind was somewhere else.

       The graveyard is the only peaceful place in town.  The ground is lined with much more quieter and less disturbing people.  I sometimes feel as if I belong here and not out there. 

       I walk along the headstones, all containing a name with stories hidden behind them. I am always so fascinated by the mystery that lie within the graves.  Some carrying secrets that will never be spoken again. 

       As I continue to walk past the tombstones, I stop at one in particular.  One that use to have meaning in my life but now, is just a pile of dirt.  I truly do miss the good old days.  When laughter existed in my daily life.  Where I did not have to deal with drunken fools in the grimy streets.  Oh, how I wished for everything to go back to the way it was.  I would kill to get those times back.  But sadly, I am not God.  I am only a man with too much on his hands.