Chapter 5: Life

At first, Drake didn't take the first three months of Rosetta's absence seriously. As far as he was concerned, she was gone. And she was never coming back to him. He had been amused when Rosetta's father presented him with a plain sheet of paper, demanding his signature. It seemed more than funny for him to see his almost father-in-law accusing him of murder, and then, eventually, he had realized how much pain Rosetta's death had done to her parents. Her absence had absorbed every tiny bit of energy in them. Then, the sudden discovery of her dead body by the local police close to the river had sparked a deep breath of argument which had led to the formation of opinions by a few members of the small loving community that were considered barbaric. It was a crazy encounter that would go on for days.

Drake knew his time of questioning was coming soon. But, he didn't expect it to come as soon as possible. He was well aware that his major political disagreement with Rosetta's father on his fiftieth birthday was going to hunt him back. And, even when he had reminded him about his hate for Democrats as he presented the plain sheet of paper, he was unmoved. He didn't know what to say to him because he hadn't spoken to him and Rosetta's mother for a week. Something he was not hoping would happen since Rosetta's death.

"You have to sign that," Rosetta's father said.

"I know!" Drake replied, trying to skim through the black printed letters. He dropped the paper on the table and moved away. His hands were on his hips. He was thinking as fast as he could. His muscles were taut.

"What is wrong with you? We don't have all the time in the world to watch you perform," Rosetta's father's voice stung Drake as he tried to maintain focus and not think about the face of the woman he had nearly gotten married to. He would have been terribly proud of himself if everything had gone through, and he would not have to listen to the words coming out from the lips of Rosetta's father who he had grown to despise more recently.

"I can't sign what is written on that piece of paper," Drake confessed. "From what I see here, both of you are trying to put your daughter's death on my shoulders. I didn't do it. I didn't kill, Rori. I can't kill her because I love her."

"You loved her," Rosetta's father corrected. "You used to love her before you made plans to kill her."

"I didn't kill your daughter. She was my angel and queen! Why will I think of killing someone I love and care about?" Drake's voice was growing weak as he watched Rosetta's father grab the piece of paper from where he had left it on the table, and raise a finger towards his direction. It was not a great source of pleasure when shortly afterward, he found Rosetta's father struggling with his words. He was bitter, hurt and devastated. He was messed up.

After he left, Drake tried to read the front cover of a newspaper he had earlier dropped inside his room before Rosetta's parents' arrival. He had made a decision since Rosetta's burial to catch every bit of potential clue surrounding her death every morning, through any available medium, and when he finally ran the process for a month without getting any significant result, he stopped. He stopped to attend gatherings of people who were eager to share and listen to dark secrets regarding werewolves. He was even less interested in appearing in public to speak about his relationship with Rosetta despite her parents' heavy pressure on him. As far as he knew, Rosetta was gone. And she would be more than happy to know that he was in a good situation in his life, and not in the terrible situation he had found himself in. The pressure was growing higher every day within him. Items that had caught his interest were no longer valuable to his sense of sight. He was almost damaged. But, not completely. He knew he just had to figure out what happened to Rosetta. But how would he find out with no clues?

He sighed as he brought out his jotter pad where he had penned down series of events surrounding Rosetta's death. From the phone number of the taxi driver she entered on the day before her death to the food she ate before leaving, every piece of information in his jotter pad was detailed but scattered around. He closed the jotter pad, and sat down on the bed. His movements were quick. Next, he was holding a picture of himself and Rosetta on a beach in California. It was the first time they spent a full summer week together without thinking about Rosetta's parents and their many persistent reasons why they shouldn't be together.

*

Drake looked irate as he set down another piece of paper from Rosetta's father, demanding his signature. He brought a stick of cigarette from his breast pocket and lit it. He smoked as he thought of how he might move away from the small community of loving people and wander into the forest that had been an ally to whatever had claimed Rosetta's life. His face sobered, thinking of the echo of Rosetta's voice. It was terrifying for him to imagine himself in such distress situation.

A knock came.

Drake stood up. He opened the door.

"How are you?" Rori asked, as she made her way past him.

"I feel terrible," Drake said, shutting the door behind them. "Ever since Rosetta died, a lot of people have been talking about her. Some people have come up with speculations about a werewolf attack. I don't know if this is true. My father used to believe in werewolves when he was alive. I was never interested. I was less interested I mean..."

"Do you believe in the existence of werewolves?" Rori interrupted.

Drake shook his head. "I don't know."