"I wonder what might happen if I left this all behind,
Would the wind be at my back?
Could I get you off my mind?"
Two Years Previous
Her voice kept him awake at night. Whispering into his ears, screaming his name until he could stand it no longer. He downed glass after glass of whiskey until his mind was sluggish and dim. It was the only way.
An unopened envelope lay on the desk, surrounded by empty glasses, cigarette buts, and a black pistol. The purest white paper stamped with a black embossed W. Jim stared at the pistol, devoid of emotion, then ripped the envelope open. A small note greeted him.
This was all I could get my hands on. Good luck. -Irene.
He cast the note aside and pulled out a crisp, official looking document, covered in black type and spidery handwriting.
Certificate of Birth
Name and Surname: Poppy Hooper
Date of Birth: 24 November
Mother: Molly Hooper
Father: Unknown
Jim reached for a bottle of whiskey on the table and drank what was left. Then, with all his strength, he flung it at the wall. The glass shattered loudly, but Jim heard nothing. A dull roar drowned everything else out, but he could still hear Molly's voice. He screamed, pressing his hands to his temples. Your daughter, Jim. Your daughter. Poppy. He glanced at the pistol again. I could do it for real this time. An image of a child flashed before him, small and happy, with Molly's soft hair and chestnut eyes. He fell to his knees, landing on broken shards of glass. The pain was sharp, but he barely noticed it. He found his phone and dialed.
"Sebastian. We need to find her. I'm not giving up again."
