In all honesty the best person to have talked to about what the hell was going on was probably me anyway, and the DVD was probably the best way to do it. Granted, I at one time thought if I was ever on tape it would've had me doing things that were illegal in the state of Mississippi. Not the case that time around.
“You shouldn't be surprised honestly,” I wasn't, “This is the exact same thing you would do and I can only imagine how you're handling everything around you. You must have a lot of questions about everything.”
'How about telling me why I have a cat?' I thought as “I” spoke.
“I guess the beginning would be the best place to start huh?” I sat there in silence, “Listen...I'm just gonna call you Chase. This whole thing? It started with the day Brandon got shot. After that event we suffered a sort of psychological break where you kind of...shut down is probably the best way to describe it. The major parts of you kind of shut down thus creating me as a result of the supplemental parts of you. While you were big on training, becoming a policeman and fighting the good fight. I took a more reserved role. I embraced the writing you saw as a hobby.
“I became a different you.” He explained, “Which is more than apparent huh?” The video-me chuckled at this, “Even though I was different...I thought I was still you and could do all that you did. I was wrong.” I quirked an eyebrow, “I got beat. Badly. I couldn't do it and I decided to put it away. I didn't like it because the city needed it but...I wasn't you.” He touched the shoulder the scar was on, “I was a spare tire on a car it wasn't made for.
“The reason I made this Chase is because I can feel you coming back. I would think you already made your way through them but the papers of my stories and the files. Those notes? Those are your thoughts that were making their way back into being and when that first started I knew you were coming back. I want you to think about this seriously Chase. The life we have is good. Charlene is a good woman and deserves a good man, we could be that man but you have to make a choice. Think about it Chase. It's in three separate boxes labeled junk.” The video went blank and stopped. I set the player aside and sat beside myself.
It was a lot to take in. I had basically been on auto-pilot for three years and everything I had wasn't mine and wasn't what I had thought ever would be mine. The life I had was good though. From what I had seen it was near perfect. I got up and walked over to the first box labeled junk. 'This is a good life, do I have any right to change that?' I asked myself as I opened up the box. 'Dad, Jack, Mike...do I really want to put everyone in danger again?' I reached into the box and grabbed something. 'Why am I even doing this? What right do I have to do this? All for some thrills and to make myself feel better about something that was more than likely my fault?' I had pulled what was in the box halfway out slowly as I answered the questions I asked myself. I then thought about the city, the way it looked, the number of pages I had noted on in the articles and papers all the things I missed and could've helped with.
The city wasn't crumbling but it was sick. It needed help and most of all the killer; my brother's killer, was still out there. My hand never exited the box but I knew the feeling of what was in my hand all too well. 'That's not why I did it though...' I told myself, “I didn't want to make myself feel better by helping nameless people on the street. I wanted to make this city better. No thrills, I had been scared all for years as a child and I didn't want anyone else to be scared either...” I looked down at my hand as it shook. I was afraid, of what though? What was in the box? I thought that was impossible. 'I did it because I believed in what I was doing and what needed to be done...'
I didn't want to but my hand loosened on the object I held in it. It dropped back in the box, it was fear that made me drop it. Fear had become a feeling one part of me had known too well and a lot of good it did me till now. I looked down at the box and I felt anger rise, at Tomassi, Houston, everyone around me but more importantly: myself. 'That other me might've been okay with my brother being shot and the killer running free. But I'm not....” I placed my hand on the box and clenched my fist, shaking lightly I turned and walked out of the locker. 'I'll be back.' I thought to myself, 'And when I do come back, it will be to get this damn party started.'