The Role Model: A shocking psychological thriller with several twists by Daniel Hurst (read aloud TXT) 📕

feel drunk right now, there is little doubt that I would be over the limit if I were to be breathalysed. I wouldn’t be much use to my panicking daughter if I got carted off to a prison cell before I helped her figure out what to do with the dead guy she is currently with.

That’s why I’m sticking to the speeds on the road signs.

But that doesn’t mean it’s easy. My hands are gripping the steering wheel tightly as I move my vehicle through the dark streets near my house. Chloe has told me she is at the park about ten minutes away, the small park, not the big one, which is even further away. That is some consolation because it means I’ll be with her quicker, although not much. I’d much rather not have to be making this risky drive at all tonight.

I knew as soon as I answered the phone that something was seriously wrong. Chloe could barely get her words out and seemed to be hyperventilating. If she were asthmatic, I would have thought she was having an attack, but she isn’t. I considered an allergic reaction to something she had perhaps consumed at the party, even though I’m not aware of any allergies with my daughter either. But then she finally spoke, and I realised her breathing difficulty had nothing to do with her health. Rather, it was the health of the person she was with.

Chloe told me she had been in the park with a guy called Rupert when he had fallen over and banged his head. She told me how much blood there was and that he was unresponsive.

She also told me he was definitely dead.

I did what any mother would do in that situation. I asked my daughter if she was safe, and then I told her to stay calm. I let her know that I was on my way. And now here I am, heading to the park while trying to figure out how my daughter can avoid having her entire life screwed up by this dramatic turn of events. It was an accident, just two teenagers drinking in a park when things suddenly went wrong. But where there is a body, there will be police officers and investigations, reports and accusations. Despite it being plain bad luck on Chloe’s part, I won’t be able to control the narrative once the police get involved. The deceased’s family will want answers, so too the local community who will want someone to blame for such a tragedy happening on their doorstep. If they can find a way of blaming Chloe, then they will.

They might say it was her fault that Rupert was in the park tonight. They might blame her for him drinking so much. They will talk about my daughter behind her back like she is some second-class citizen no longer worthy of their time or respect. Whatever they do, one thing is for sure; if this gets out into the public, it will haunt Chloe for the rest of her life.

She will forever be known as the girl who was with the guy who died in the park. Her name will be mentioned in newspaper articles and TV broadcasts, and it will not be forgotten, not in a town like this. That reputation will be with her forever, and there will be nothing I can do about that once it is.

But it’s not just Chloe whose life will be ruined by being associated with death. It will be mine too. While people like to gossip about children, they love to do it about their parents. If Chloe isn’t blamed for the accident, then I will be.

What kind of mother allows her seventeen-year-old daughter to be out drinking in the park? What kind of upbringing must poor Chloe have had?

Did that girl even stand a chance with a mother like hers?

It’s paranoia on my part, and things might not end up like that, but I’ve found that in stressful times like this, the paranoia always wins. Name the worst-case scenario, and I bet it will happen because it’s the fear of avoiding that which leads to action, and that’s what I must take right now. I told my daughter not to call the police until I was there. She probably thinks that’s because I want to make sure that I’m with her when they turn up and start asking her questions. But that’s not the reason why. The real reason is because I need to see if the police have to be called at all.

I won’t know that until I get to the park and assess the scene.

A quick check on the time on my dashboard tells me that it has been seven minutes since I answered Chloe’s call. I should be there within three, but despite my right foot’s enthusiasm to press down harder on the accelerator pedal and get there quicker, my brain chooses the sensible option, and I maintain my speed. These next few minutes, both in this car and at the park, are crucial.

One wrong move and both our lives could be ruined.

The buzzing from my mobile phone on the seat beside me almost makes me jump out of my skin. I take care to keep my speed as I look away from the road ahead and glance at my device. It’s Chloe calling me again. She is probably wondering where I am. I shouldn’t answer it. To do that would be just as illegal as speeding, and a passing police officer would pull me over all the same. But what if there is a problem at the park, or at least one just as big as the body currently lying there. What if Chloe is no longer alone?

What if she really needs me right now?

Then again, what if it’s good news? Maybe Rupert is okay, after all. Maybe he is alive, and it was just one confusing misunderstanding. Maybe my daughter doesn’t need me to support her