Hey there. Something I couldn't get from my mind. It's a sensitive topic. So if you don't like I don't mind :-). As always my thanks and regards to my beta witchbladejar. Oh yeah and I don't own anything and absolutely nothing ;-)
Today was the day, she had decided. It was half past two in the afternoon and Jane sat on her porch. In her left hand, a tumbler with old Scottish whiskey and in her right the old riffle she had bought years ago, when she had bought the old farmland she now lived on. It was a sunny day in late May. You could smell the growing hay and the late spring in the air. Some birds sat in the old apple tree, chirping. She had never cut down the old tree. Before she had lived here at the farm, lightning had struck the large tree.
She smiled watching the little birds cry for their mother. A sharp pain struck Jane's heart, when she thought of her own little ones. One child had grown to a young adult and the other one drowned in their large pool behind their house. She shook off that thought and took another sip of the cold golden liquid. It burned as it dripped down her throat, but that didn't matter to Jane. Pain was the only thing that made her feel alive after all these years of hell on earth. She looked over the small part of land, being proud that she now had fixed the broken fence, which the small herd of cows she owned lived.
The smile left her fast as fast as it had appeared. She shook her head and took another sip of the whiskey. She had never liked drink something that hard because she was always stuck to beer, or sometimes wine, but now… now it didn't matter anymore. Nothing mattered anymore. She had been the world's greatest asshole. She had had a family, which had loved her; at least that is what they all had told her.
She had been dedicated to her job, her family, and especially her wife. Well, ex-wife now. When Maura had sent her the divorce papers, she hadn't even read them through. She had just signed them. It hadn't mattered then, it didn't matter now. She had been surprised that they had found out where she had moved. She hadn't told anyone where she went, when she left. She just had disappeared. Well, she sort of knew, with her friends being detectives, that they would find her someday but none of them had shown up here at 'Sorrow Lane'. When she had found that small town on the map, she had immediately known that this was the place. She had bought the land with the run down farmhouse because that was exactly what she had deserved.
She looked at the bright sun, which was just above the small hill. She had thought of writing a letter, to explain why she had done what she was about to do, but she didn't need to. The people of 'Sorrow Lane' knew her well, even though they never really spoken to her. She had been the one to always be there and help. No matter what it had been like, nobody had ever asked what it was that upset her. They just knew. It took Jane coming to this small town in the outskirt of Indiana to find peace and become a better person.
It hadn't been her intention to hurt her friends and family. It had started with the birth of their first child, a daughter they had named Julia. Everyone had been proud and happy and everything had been good in the beginning, but then a tough case had brought Jane down to her knees. That had happened when Julia was seven years old and Maura was pregnant with their second child.
Jane had been able to pull herself back together for her family's sake. She had pushed away the nagging feeling of being guilty of a young girl's death. It had worked several years and she had perfected the masquerade of being happy and content with her life. Although, the sudden death of their son, Jeremy, at the age of five had brought her down completely. She became what she had feared the most, a monster. She hadn't been able to overcome the horrible loss of her son. Jane hadn't been the one who had given birth to little Jeremy but it had hurt her more than she could have imagined. To lose someone she had hoped for all her life, a son.
Three years of terror, that Jane had managed to stay. Somehow, she had managed to remain a cop but the hurt and anger she had felt every day had brought her to alcohol. She became abusive not only against herself but against her wife and her daughter, too.
Maura had begged her to stop, had begged her to go to therapy, and to think of her and her daughter but Jane only had had thoughts of her dead son. She loved Maura deeply but she knew that Maura had stopped loving her shortly after the first time she had struck her. She hadn't recognized how bad she had become until one night her own daughter called the cops on her. She had beat up Maura. When Maura had lain unconscious and bleeding, that was the night Jane had decided to leave. After Jane was released from her sentence in jail, she had lost her badge. She had packed a bag and left without a note or a final goodbye. With the little savings she had had, she had managed to buy this shitty little farmhouse.
Jane sat in her rocking chair finally finding peace. Five years back she had finally had the courage to write a letter to Maura and apologize for everything that she had done. She hadn't thought that Maura would forgive her but she did. Two weeks later, Jane had found a letter in her mailbox from her ex-wife. She just had written, "I forgive you. Nothing more, nothing less." Jane had stood there, dumbstruck, trying to wrap her head around it. Maura had forgiven her but Jane had never managed to forgive herself.
She glanced over her shoulder into her house and she was content with the result of her cleaning it. She took the last sip of the amber liquid and placed the tumbler on the small coffee table next to her. The sun had begun to set behind the hills and a small chill crept up Jane's spine. As soon as the sun had began to leave for the night, the wind made it feel colder. She thanked God for being able to make peace in life and whispered her sweet good byes to her loved ones, Maura and Julia. With a smile on her lips, because now she would see her son again and she knew nobody she knew would miss her. She sat the riffle under her chin, took a deep breath, and pulled the trigger.
...