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’ I put my hand on my gun, having flicked open the strap holding it in place. ‘Try and stop me.’ I said quietly, my eyes boring into his. His eyes saw that I wasn’t bluffing. He relented, his face red with anger. I quickly walked out of there. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Phyllis sat on the porch in one of the rocking chairs as the other woman talked. She was Old Mrs. Starnes, and she had lived in this house since the day she was born. It was a two-story house with tall ceilings and a big porch, built in the late 1800s when the town was first started. Mrs. Starnes was the grandmother of Kip Starnes, whose name had come up in the Murdered Football Player case. ‘Yes, Phyllis, this town is dying.’ Mrs. Starnes said. ‘And you’re right that something else is going on around here. There is a sense of depression here, and that’s because of the oppression that is happening.’ ‘Aftermath of the Sheriff election?’ Phyllis asked. ‘Oh, no, that was actually only a small part of it.’ said Mrs.. Yet I knew very little about him, he was a doctor, an old family friend but did we have anything in common? I saw his wedding band glistening in the moon light and he was married! I remembered my phone and carefully pulled myself out of James’ arms. 11.56pm it flashed up. We had been here for nearly 5 hours. 3 missed calls and 2 texts. Guilt flooded through me, I read the messages, both from Tom, ‘No problem, don’t work too hard, do you want me to cook you some dinner for when you get in? I will head round to see Paul for a bit.’ 2nd text, ‘Hey, guess you are really busy at work, just off to bed, I got you a slice of cake from the bakery, it’s on the side as bet you haven’t had time to eat. See you in bed, love you.’ My cheeks flushed with the horror at what I was doing. I needed to get home, this was wrong. I grabbed my clothes and as I pulled my dress over my head, James stirred next to me. ‘Hey gorgeous,’ he smiled up at me. ‘Sorry, I need to get home,’ I blurted out flustered.
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