03.2023 | WELCOME BACK! Hello friends old and new! I'm so excited to welcome you all back to SITW! I've made some changes to the plot and added the ability to play supernatural charcaters! So come and check it out! I can't wait to jump back into this little town with all of you!
A strange history surrounds the town, it is a place where mysterious and supernatural things have been known to happen. The reputation of the town reguarly draws in visitors and newcomers alike. While some residents avidly believe in the supernatural, others are far more skeptical. What do you believe?
Brodie's job had him all over the town. He patrolled in his car, parked and went into establishments, visited the school at least three times a week to cast a cold eye over the hooligans and scare them straight, and so on and so forth. He was the Sheriff--the law, you might say. It was his job to be everywhere and know everything that was going on.
This particular time in the afternoon, however, he could be found sitting at his desk in the office with his feet propped up and the tribune in his hands. He knew a lot, but every time he opened that magazine he found out more. Thankfully, it was usually the good in the paper, whereas Brodie had the unfortunate reality of knowing most of the things people didn't want known about them.
He chuckled at a particular article, and then plucked his coffee off the desk and took a sip. It was cold but he didn't mind, it was better than nothing.
People came to the Sheriff's office for various reasons: accusations, complaints with neighbors, suspicious activity reports, girl scout cookies... that last one was Brodie's favorite.
The front door opened, he heard from his desk in the back, and the receptionist's quiet murmur helped whoever had entered. Brodie put the paper down but kept the mug of coffee. He then went to the door of his office to see who it was--and greet them if he knew their name, which he most likely did.
Honestly he hadn’t really stolen often. But to get arrested for a little bit of shoplifting for something to eat? Really? Now they were going to ah e questions that Mike didn’t want to answer. It wasn’t fun - honestly. Since being around cops would perpetually remind him of his uncle.
The cop wasn’t rough. After all - he might have made his own assumptions of a lanky kid who was trying to steal food. But as he entered the sheriff’s office he definitely just wanted to disappear.
It did not help when he saw Brodie Sanders.
What the hell was he doing here? In Sweetwater? Seriously? Of all the bad luck to run into this had to top the list of bad luck. “Brodie? Seriously? You’re the sheriff of this place! Crap!” It kind of came out rude. So he decided to backtrack. “Erm not how I meant it, sorry. Just uh...”
Damn was he ever busted if he had any idea he had booked it from his uncles he figured.
"Mikey?" It might have been a pet name the kid's uncle used. Probably one he hated, but who knew. He hadn't seen the little fella in years. Not so little anymore. Skinny, sure.
Brodie frowned and stepped closer, getting a better look. Yep, Michael Andrews. He didn't know him all too well, but he knew Michael's uncle. Good man--from what Brodie knew. He could be idealistic when it came to his judgement of other people. He often got tricked.
His uncle Mark had given him it and always called him that when he was trying to pretend to be nice in front of people. He felt a little sick at the actual thought of hearing that again. But he felt even sicker when he realized that Brodie definitely did recognize him.
Immediately, he felt himself crumple. Dammit, was he crying.
“Please, please don’t call my uncle. Whatever you want to do to me for the shoplifting... Anything else. Just don’t call him,” Mike managed to choke out. His voice wavering with obvious fear as he tried to calm himself down. “If I go back he’ll kill me.”
Brodie was confused. He had yet to get the memo that Mikey was brought in for shoplifting. As he crumpled his deputy communicated that through actions, rolling his eyes at the kid's dramatics. Brodie stifled a smile and moved closer, frowning at Mike's drama.
"Relax, kid." He said gently. "No one's going to kill you. No one's going to hurt you. Your uncle's a good man, you know that. He's gonna be mad, yeah, but come on." He offered Michael his hand to help him stand again.
"I need an explanation. Why are you here? Why are you stealing--" he looked to his deputy to hear what he had stolen.
"Food."
"--food." Brodie finished. He had a sinking feeling it was because the boy was hungry...
But he couldn’t help but feel like an idiot right now. How long had it actually been since he crumpled like that? The last time his uncle had kicked the crap out of him? A part of him wanted to not say why but the other half was desperate to not get taken back.
He doubted anyone would believe him but he had to try...
“I’m here because I was running away from him! Oh god, you don’t understand. No one did the last time I saw him he said he’d find me,” he tried to keep his cool. “I couldn’t do it anymore. Couldn’t keep lying for him. He’d been hurting me for years and I just... God, I had to do something.”
He was leaning back now, trying to keep his cool. “I did so good running. But now you’ve seen me. I tried to get the hell out of there and I’m about to get outdone by a loaf of bread,” he admitted. He’d stopped crying now but was still shaking. “I was just so hungry... I took what I could to keep going for a while but there was only so far I could go.”
He hung his head in shame. “It wasn’t supposed to end this way, damn it. He wasn’t supposed to win. I just couldn’t do it - I was being beat every day, he’d even stopped feeding me. Just because... I don’t even know anymore.”
"Woah, woah, now hold on..." Brodie started, disbelief all over his face. Was Michael really saying what Brodie was hearing? He felt like he was crazy. What if this was one of those strange things that happened around town...?
"He's beating you?" His daddy senses went off--red alert, red alert! Brodie would shoot before he let a man take his hands to children. To think that Michael--little Mikey--was meeting with his uncle's fists...a chill shuddered down his spine.
What if the boy was making this up? What if he had run away for his own reasons and--
"Now Michael, that's a big accusation you're making. I'm not saying I don't believe you, but I'm making sure: you're telling me that your uncle has been hurting you?" By law he had to do something about it.
It was hard to talk about this - it really was. He’d been going through all of this for so long and he’d been so quiet about it. Mike could almost say he felt ashamed. His eyes lowered to the floor. “He’s been hurting me since I was a kid. All the time. Fists, chairs, belts...” he managed as his throat tightened. “You can look at my back if you want. That was all him over the years.”
His back looked like a crater of lacerations and bumps. Old bruises. The works. His voice was so quiet right now you could feel that same shame off of him. “I finally got big enough to fight back and that’s why I left. One day he was going to town on me and I... I got a bat and I just...” he breathed out. “I hit him. I know he’s alive but I hit him until he was out cold, took some money and ran. I couldn’t do it anymore. He was gonna kill me...”
He then added. “I would have gone to someone but it was his word against mine. And I’d just assaulted an officer. I could go to jail or something.” He really didn’t know much about self defense or he’d know better.
"Okay, stop, stop, stop." Brodie said, raising a hand, glancing towards the others in the room--the deputy and assistant. Understanding, the deputy tipped his head to the sheriff and bowed out, and the secretary went to work on something on her computer.
"Mike, come in my office." Brodie didn't want a crowd of witnesses. There was protocol and things he had to do in instances like these...but sometimes, in order to do what was best--what did the most good--Brodie had to slide his hat over his eyes and forget about legality. The law was made by robots; he was sure of it.
"Listen, I believe you." Was the first thing he would say when Michael came into his office and he closed the door--assuming the kid came. He went to the box of donuts on his desk--a joke--and handed it to him. If he was hungry then surely some fresh, handmade donuts from the pastry shop would do him some good.
"But you can't go around talking about it. You can't tell that to anyone." He sat on his desk and scratched the back of his head, trying to come up with a plan.
"We can work something out. In the meantime you can stay with me." He wasn't sure if that would sound comforting to Michael or threatening. He was, after all, law enforcement, just like his uncle...
Honestly he wasn’t sure what was going on. But when they all walked away - he had a feeling that it was something that Brodie didn’t want talked about in all this company. He didn’t blame him though this whole thing was a touchy subject.
The boy followed him into the office and took a deep breath again. He hadn’t let out all of these emotions in a long time. “I’m sorry. I’ve just been holding that in a long time,” he admitted. “I’ve been on the run a long...”
Then he gave the suggestion - which surprised him even more. Now having gathered his bearings he talked more normal. “Are you sure about that...?” He asked. “I mean I don’t want to impose on your house or anything. You have kids I think right?”
Brodie needed to get to the bottom of this, but he couldn't have a minor stowed away in a motel while he did. Having Michael under his own roof would be the best plan of action. It could potentially be seen as a conflict of interest, but in a small town like this one those kinds of things were inevitable.
"I'm sure." He said with confidence. He was decidedly sure. Then he smiled. "I do have kids, but they're both older than you and they work so you'd be the kid." Three kids. Huh. Trinity had always wanted three.
"Let's not waste any time. I'll drive you there and I want you to spend the rest of the day getting your stuff there. I have a spare bedroom. We'll also need to get you enrolled in school..."
Ah that was interesting. He’d never thought of Brodie as old enough to have kids older than him. But he didn’t really see him often.
Either way though - he relaxed a little more. Mike was convinced that Brodie didn’t seem to be planning to secretly smuggle him back to his uncle. So at the very least he was feeling safe enough. “I really appreciate it, seriously... I’ve been running for so long,” he managed very calmly. “Had to, y’know?”
Oh yeah - moving in. Thankfully Mike didn’t have a ton of stuff - just some necessities and such. “Yeah that shouldn’t be too hard. I pretty much traveled light,” he then added. “But school? Man do I have to?” He knew the answer - but what kid wouldn’t have that response?
Brodie's smile was a slow kind that only pulled on one side of his face. Typical kid who didn't want to go to school. Well, yes, he had to.
"It's the law." He was probably telling Michael something he already knew. He said it anyway, since Michael was probably asking something he also already knew the answer to.
"It also builds character." His face got a little more serious. "Listen, Mikey, if you're going to live with me then there will be rules. House rules. School rules. Grade expectations. You're also going to need to get a job." He was leveling with him, and he hoped Michael would be on board.
The law? Damn that was a new argument but not shocking since he was the sheriff.
When Brodie brought up the expectations though that wasn’t anything that got him worried. At least for obvious reasons - he’d been on his own so long now that it wouldn’t be hard. “Don’t worry about that. I’m not the rule-breaking, rebel type. School bores me but I was a straight-A student, I already was in AP classes before I ran,” he explained. It was true though he didn’t flaunt it. He’d always tested well above average. “As for a job I can do that. I got a lot of experience and references. I just need to gather the ones that didn’t have to erm... Pay me under the table if you feel me.”
After all. He’d been working since he was as young as eleven just to get food at times.
He then admitted. “As for house rules might be a little slower there. Mostly because I’ve never really had any,” He admitted. “I’m not like an alcoholic or anything. But I’m kicking an old smoking habit. Just to be honest.”
Brodie cringed at some of the things the kid said, but he didn't blame Michael for it. His caretakers were responsible, the kid wasn't even eighteen yet.
"Yeah, no more smoking. I'll always have a conversation with you about things, so...don't worry, okay?" Brodie wasn't the beating type. In fact, he hadn't even spanked his kids when they were little. He never wanted to raise his hands against the innocent, not when the abuse rate was as high as it was.