I was initially really excited about starting this story, but I'm a little bit concerned because of the new Season and how the story is going to conflict with it. If the story was already developed with its own plot line and then Season 4 came along and different things happened, it would be okay. But I'm only one chapter into this, and so writing chapters and developing a plot while SIMULTANEOUSLY watching a completely different set of events take place in Season 4 is going to be hard and possibly not satisfying to readers.
(This also explains why this chapter is so short.)
I really encourage you guys to let me know what you think, and if it still works for me to continue.
Thank you all for the reviews and PMs! I appreciate it so very much!
"Don't. I'll put three bullets in you before you ever get your hands on that pistol." Romero's voice is steady and hinged as he gives his orders firmly. "Reach for it with just your thumb and forefinger. Two fingers only, lift it out of your pocket, okay? I see any other fingers uncurled, Bob…I'm gonna shoot you. Go on, two fingers."
Bob isn't stupid enough to disobey, Alex knows this. Even in high school, even when Bob was spending his days after school running races through the small drug market that had developed in White Pine Bay, he was always obedient to his teachers, the town authorities. He listened. He moderated himself to get what he wanted. This is what Romero was not good at.
But they talk, and Romero manages to look into the man's eyes that he has suddenly never hated more in his life. Alex was not hateful, his anger was more of a searing one. Not always rational, but never without moderation or without reason.
But with Bob, he hated. He hated with the entirety of his being, and the intensity of the hate had only erupted within the last 48 hours. He hated everything Bob had done to his town, he hated everything Alex knew he was about to do to Bob because of it. He thinks of his hatred as he talks about other things.
"You know, it was one of those moments where you kind of reflect on your life, you know. 'Cause I had always loved fishing, but I never could afford a boat like this. You know, not on a sheriff's salary. So I, uh, I found myself wondering: 'Why was I the only guy not benefiting from all of the money floating around in this town?'"
"Tell yourself whatever you need to, Alex. We both know why you're doing this, and it isn't about those girls. You know, right now, you are more like your dad than you ever have been. This is about you and what you want. How does that feel? To have spent your whole life trying to get away from someone you hate, only to turn into them."
He shoots. He shoots because he is not his father. He shoots because he has been a good man in a shitty town for far too long. He shoots because he deserves it. Because she deserves it. He shoots for all of the times he stood on Norma's porch, for the times when she was still just 'Mrs. Bates,' for when he told her they would never be friends.
He shoots because he remembers walking on the motel's concrete, seeing Norma's face for the first time in his life. He shoot because he realizes he and she are both different people from that day. He shoots because he knows everything now, he sees everything clearly as ever. He is a grown man, but he can only see her face, his father's face, his own being in this moment. So he shoots.
Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang.
As Norma stands and watches, she does not think about the events that unfolded on the same dock, with the same Sheriff, as he shot Jake Abernathy. She does not dare to make a sound.
She takes the gun, which seems to tremble in her hand. It is the gun that she packed before she followed behind Bob's car into the night, not knowing that Romero was doing the same thing. She thinks only about the conversation that began after Abernathy was killed. "When I say trust me, trust me." She considers these words carefully and deliberately. Because of those words, and those words only, she tucks her gun inside of her peacoat and walks away just as Alex's knees begin to buckle.
