#temperfi

my mother is not a trollop nor a woman of the night and the fact that you say that only makes you more of a scumbag than i prior to now speculated

@temperfi liked this for a starter.

          she’s not exactly sure how long ago they’d called the sheriff. her best guess was somewhere between a half hour and forty five minutes ago, but being blackout drunk had a way of messing with your internal clock, and it could have been anywhere between five minutes and an hour ago that the young deputy at the desk had told her, ‘he’s on his way.’           since then, she’s just tries to get comfortable... a little hard to do when closing your eyes and sitting very still are the only ways to quell the nausea in your stomach and the pounding in your head. she could just go for a warm bed and a long nights rest, preferably somewhere that wasn’t the seats in the front of an unfamiliar police station or a cot in the drunk tank.           brown, exhausted eyes flutter open when one of the two front doors to the station is pushed open, and the first thing she notices is that the clock on the opposite wall reads 9:47 (which seems a little bit early to be picked up for drunk driving already). without moving her head, debra searches for the new arrival... and when her gaze lands on alex, she can’t help but redirect it quickly and shamefully away.             for a woman who’d been so eager to get out of here, suddenly sleeping in a holding cell doesn’t seem like the worst available option. @temperfi

Bradley’s father was murdered. She wasn’t going to stop until she got justice or revenge. Sheriff Romero was someone she was aware knew what went on in White Pine Bay and maybe, just maybe, she could get answers from him, “Thank you for coming here, Sheriff.” The girl stated sitting at the booth in the diner. “You probably have an idea of why I wanted to talk to you... My Dad... Please tell me what you know about what happened to him.”

@temperfi

@temperfi / call.

@wouldntharmafly