It's Just Life

Coming Clean

I was sitting on one of the swings of the park. I wasn't swinging like I usually am, instead hunched over with my hair blocking my view of everything around me. I had the crumbled paper in my hand, tear stains mixing the red with the white. I was distractedly smoothing out the surface, as I that would do anything good. A breeze of wind hit me blowing my hair away from my face and drying out the left over tears on my cheeks. Complete and utter defeat was the only thing on my mind. Nothing was going to be the the same again.

I had my bag with me. It was that same duffel back that I had took from my house when I had to leave. It felt like a year ago, even though it had been just over a month. The washed out surface gave me some comfort. It reminded me of dad. Of the possibility of actually seeing him again one of these days. I got up and lifted the bag to my shoulder before walking away. At the entrance of the park I took a quick glance back, halting to a stop. I had done this too many times. Leaving goodbyes. I let my gaze wander every little corner that I wanted to remember, maybe someday as a happy memory. The kids joyful laughter didn't reach me as a comforthing buzz as it usually did. I didn't have anymore tears to cry out, all that there was left was emptiness and defeat. I squeezed the search warrant in my hand and turned my back on the park. I wouldn't go there anymore. One sparkling tear managed to escape my eye as I sped walked away. I quess I still had some of them left. I brushed it off, tears weren't welcome anymore.

I took the bus and mindlessly stared outside the whole time, not hearing anything happening around me. The beach went by. The music shop. The corner where I would turn right when I'd go to my house. Left to Ashton's. After 15 minute buss drive I got off and took a deep breath, trying to ease myself. Breath in Sidney. Might be your last time breathing in Sydney. I asked for directions and made small but confident steps, trying to reflect the outer confidence to the inside. I didn't listen to music. I didn't want to. After five minutes of walking I neared the building I was suppose to go ages ago. I varily stopped in front of it, not sure of what to do. I could see blue and white cars on the large parking lot and people walking in and out of the red brick building that was towering over me. Other people with uniforms walking on the yard, talking to each other in a relaxed manner. Some of them were running. I took a hesitant look around me. Another minute flew by. I checked again, not moving from my position. Only a dog walker and other people with uniforms. I waited another minute before looking at my clock. "15.09" Disappointment didn't surface, the huge cloud of defeat didn't let any emotions throug through. He didn't come. Of course he didn't. He doesn't even know that you're here Sid. And why'd you expect him in the first place, after all you hid from him? All you did to him? I stopped myself from going any further and walked across the road, the previous thoughts encouraging me.

"Police Station" Was written in black letters onto the roof of the building. I took a hold of the handle bar and walked in. I strode straight to the nearest desk and dropped my bag to the ground before lifting the paper onto the small reception desk. I looked at the young receptionist in front of me.

"Hi, I'm Sidney Kentwood. It seems like you've made a search warrant of me?"

Five minutes later I was sitting in a grey room with a large window on the right and booth-like chair and a desk on the left. Small aquarium had colorful fish swimming around with a white plastic skull staring at the air in the corner of it. Its hollow eyes seemed to stare straight at me. I turned my head away. In front of me was sitting a small man, probably around his mid 50's. His name was Colton Harrison. He was a Child Services worker. Colton Harrison consisted of a greyish bowl cut and friendly brown eyes. Bushy eyebrows were in a compassionate state while he slightly smiled at me. Big round glasses slid down his nose and dull eyes were directed to a paper stack in front of him.

"So Sidney, this has been quite a journey for you. I can't say that I've heard about a situation like yours before." His voice was hoarse like he has smoked for the last 20-years of his life. I didn't really pay attention to it.