Days of Misery - Apt. 422

The past few days have been a reckless turn of events. Ever since finding Winsley, I have been following him relentlessly. I found that retched aunt, and never let her out of my sight if I could help it. Sadly, in doing so, I got to know my boy through observation, and what I saw, I didn't like.

My poor boy was a delinquent! I saw him snatch watches, wallets, purses, whatever he could get his hands on. More often than naught, I would see him yell at his guardian, not that I blame him, and generally cause ruckus everywhere he went. Was this the boy I was tasked with raising? If I could even find a way to get him away from that bitch, could I turn him around and make a fine lad out of him?

My conflict of emotions and desires left me confused and lost, so I went through the motions of following these two until I came up with something. After a few days of this, I found myself sitting in O'Harley's, a bit more drunk than I should have been. My eyes kept drifting back to that woman, the improper caretaker for my boy. She was smoking at the bar, until some other lady walked up. They talked for a bit, I could hear them over the din of the pub. They eventually walked outside, and I saw my neglected boy follow them out. With my judgement far from clear, I found it best to follow the three of them. Peeking through the window, I saw the ladies talking, but more importantly, I saw Winsley pulling the wallet from his aunt's purse. I burst through the door, the pint of lager clouding my thoughts.

"Winsley, my own nephew, what on earth are you doing?"

All three of these strangers stared at me, mouths open. I realized then that none of them knew who I was, and the voice in my head that could still think straight told me that this was a stupid idea and that I should run now.

Staring into the dirty teeth of the aunt, I made my decision. I ran off the patio, looking back it was more of a stumble, and I continued running all the way back to my apartment. Sitting on the floor, I replayed the actions of the night. What seemed like such a solid plan at the time now shows itself as pure asshole-ery. I can't believe that any of that seemed like a good idea. My brother always did say that I was rash when I was drunk. This is certainly going to make my job here in Dreamwood harder.

--

I awoke later, with two things on my mind. The first was that I must have passed out, but that wasn't the scary one. The loud banging and shouting at my door was what was worrying me.

"Sir, you have until the count of three before I break your door down. One... Two..."

I fell flat on my face as I ran to the door, trying not to raise the cost of this apartment any higher than it was with the repair costs associated with a broken door. Just as he reached three, I pulled the door open and leaned on the door frame with blood leaking out of my newly bloody nose.

"What seems to be the problem, officer?"

"We have beliefs that you are connected to an international drug trade, and with this permit, we are going to search the apartment until we are satisfied with the results."

The officer looked me over, observing my wrinkled and now blood stained clothes.

"We also received reports of a man terrorizing the public at O'Harleys tonight, and you seem to match the description perfectly. Sir, I am going to ask you to step outside while we search the premise. Please do not leave, as that will result in more trouble for the both of us. I think we can agree that neither of us want more trouble at the moment."

I nodded my head, and walked down the stairs. I guess it was more of a fall, as I was still a bit drunk and weary. Finally landing outside, I cleared a spot in the newly fallen snow on the sidewalk and plopped my feet down. They fell farther than expected, proving to me that I somehow found my friend the pothole below all of this snow. My head in my hands and my feet in the snow, I sat wondering how my life could get any worse.

At that moment, and neighbor invited me to his apartment for some waffles. I figured I could only go up, so I followed him.

The Encounter

I was walking down Shelac Ave, after just helping out a vulgar girl with her groceries when I saw him. There were plenty of kids playing in the fountain, but he stuck out. That was him, my nephew.

In my sudden rush to do anything, I ran towards Dreamwood Terrace, tripped in a pothole, and fell onto the sidewalk. Some of the kids saw and giggled, but he didn't. Not like he would know who I was, but better safe than sorry. I got to my apartment, and watched him from the window. The little chap was eventually taken back to the daycare by the staff, but at least I had a direction to go in.

I walked over to my desk and pulled out a letter, addressed to me from my brother's lawyer. Discarding the stationary stating my brothers death and his final wishes, I found it. The photograph of my only nephew, Winsley Murphy. He had a round face plastered with freckles, with a mop of red hair that was far long for a five year-old, if you asked me. But there was no mistaking it, that was my boy. Going back to the letter, I reread all the important parts.

My brother and his wife had both died in a shooting, leaving there only son with a small sum of money. They had set up for the son to move in with a sister on the wife's side until I could come get him, but then the lawyer encountered a problem. Apparently she felt that she was the rightful guardian for Winsley, ignoring the last wishes of my brother, and moved into hiding to keep her custody of the boy. I had finally found him here, but then I realized.

 I had no idea what to do next.