Hate me, Date me | CHAPTER ONE
Hatemedateme, hate me date me, carla, carlahastie, carlaellenhastie, uniquemodels,
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CHAPTER ONE

It was 3:00am and Raymond Fischer was no closer to falling asleep than he had been after first collapsing into bed 6 hours earlier. With his gaze fixated to ceiling, he exhaled, running his heavily calloused hands through his hair, which had remained in the same rugged style since the 1970’s. His once muscular body, now much larger and somewhat lifeless, took advantage of the spacious mattress. The creases of 49 years of life clawed at his marble eyes, which remained still and wide open. He could feel her presence. Constantly lingering and all consuming. Her eyes; it was as if they stared into his soul, pleading with his frail heart. Though he didn’t bear any children of his own, he felt connected to her, though most could not understand the pain of losing a child. It was 15 years to the day, since Annie May disappeared from the sleepy town of Angler Bay. A girl of only 9 years of age, still yet to see the world, still yet to be found. Deborah May visited Raymond’s office most weeks and he was sure that today would bring no exception. Raymond shuffled out of bed. He wasn’t needed at the station for at least another few hours, but what difference did it make anyhow? His conscience never slept. He sunk the last of yesterday’s coffee and fixed his badge into its usual position, before closing the door on a home he felt little emotion toward. Angler Bay Station awaited him. Cobwebs littered the frail, slowly diminishing walls, and the once sturdy iron roof had begun to rust, looking as if it could collapse at any minute. Raymond felt somewhat at ease as he approached the station. It was by no means perfect, but that suited him just fine. The oak giant greeted him with its usual creak, the hinges barely able to support the doors protective stance. His routine lead him straight to the mass of files hiding his desk. 15 years had slipped by without granting Raymond praise of any kind, at least not the kind he so desperately sought. This was about more than self-satisfaction, it meant giving closure to a mother who had lost everything. A photograph of Annie remained pinned to a cork board, adjacent to the cluttered desk. It was small, but somehow the single monochrome print told its own story. A mane of soft curls hid Annie’s petite face, which was dominated by a gap tooth smile. Her pale skin resembled that of a doll and her eyes screamed of innocence. No matter how many times he relived Deborah’s story, he could not justify it, not even with 25 years of experience under his belt. The case had gone cold, and in most circumstances the files would be swallowed by a deeds room, surrounded by decades of unsolved robberies and homicides. But this case was different. Raymond had spent years in pursuit of this young girl and somewhere, somehow, she would be laid to rest. Amidst these thoughts, Raymond heard the grunt of a motor fast approaching the station. A gap in the veneers revealed the size of a sleek 4X4 Jeep, a far cry from Deborah’s hatchback Volkswagen. The beast slid across the gravel road with ease, like a poised skater embracing the rink. He was soon faced with a woman in a sharp suit. Her jet-black hair equally as telling as her beady eyes. “Sherriff Fischer?” She stopped dead in front of him, studying each and every one of his features as if they would reveal some kind of hidden secrets. “Yes Maam, how can I help you?”, Raymond managed, as he felt his brow begin to sweat. With such composure and sophistication, he couldn’t help thinking this woman must be of some importance. It was crucial to make a good impression. “Pleased to meet you, I am Ms Linda Olsen of the Central Forensics Department. I’ve been instructed to deliver you this package.” She handed him a brown envelope, which he spared no hesitation in taking, perhaps a little too eagerly. “What this is regarding Ms Olsen?”, Raymond asked, wishing he had just cut the conversation short while he had the chance. Aside the intentional intimidation, there was something about Ms Linda Olsen that made him feel uneasy. “The 1988 disappearance of Annie May”, she added, before promptly spinning on her pointy high heels and retreating to her Jeep. Raymond carefully studied the package before bracing himself to open it. He wondered if this could signal the culmination of a haunted case, or whether it would lead to more questions, suspects and further dead ends. Either way, he intended to find out.

5 Comments
  • Deborah Finnigan

    November 21, 2017 at 7:49 pm Reply

    Can’t wait for the next instalment

    • Carla Hastie

      February 13, 2018 at 11:27 pm Reply

      Maybe one day…

  • moss

    November 21, 2017 at 11:59 pm Reply

    cool story i wonder what happens?

    • Carla Hastie

      February 13, 2018 at 11:28 pm Reply

      Me too haha!

  • Don

    April 4, 2019 at 5:59 pm Reply

    We want more. We want more.

Comments