ㅤㅤ"You caused a mess! A mess! And it's on every news channel, for crying out loud!" the chief shouted, his voice filled with frustration and anger. Yet somehow, he remained just composed enough not to ask for my badge—or maybe, something else was in play.

ㅤㅤ"They're involved, aren't they?" I said, voicing what I had deduced. His pacing around the room, lost in thought, came to an abrupt stop, and the look on his face said it all. "Well of course they are! Otherwise, you'd be in cuffs and behind bars, rather than sitting in my office, now, innit?"

ㅤㅤIt returned to quiet, the white background noise from the television breaking the painful silence. "Just why did you have to do it, M?" His tone changed, but it retained the frustration as he asked. He waited, eventually sitting down in his chair and interlocking his fingers on the desk. I didn't say a word—I didn't have a response he didn't already know.

ㅤㅤHis eyes drifted from my face, and a long, deep sigh escaped his lips, heavy with stress over the circumstances—and the part I had played in them. The landline on his desk grabbed our attention, and he reached over to pick it up. "Chief Bradley," he answered, his voice clipped but steady. His expression darkened as the one-sided conversation unfolded, his brows furrowing with every word.

ㅤㅤ"Understood," he concluded, ending the call. He paused, taking a moment for himself while I waited in silence, my eyes tracing the subtle shifts in his expression, searching for any crack that might betray his thoughts. But the answer was already clear as daylight, even before he spoke.

ㅤㅤ"You're transferring me," I said matter-of-factly, yet with a hint of disbelief. I had already suspected it would lead to something like this—but not exactly this. He didn't answer me, instead choosing to look out the office window at the vast metropolis. "Where?" I asked. He turned around and finally responded.

ㅤㅤ"Consider this a promotion. Hell, anyone would see it as such, but you-" Bradley rambled, making excuses that made me stand up from my chair. "Where, Bradley?" I saw him think about it, but he didn't really have a choice. It was decided—whether he wanted to or not, and whether I liked it or not. "You're being transferred to the police department near Cyntech."

ㅤㅤ"What? Why?!" I couldn't stop the flare of anger that ignited out of thin air; my voice was sharp. "You know why! You're out of it, M! I gave you plenty of chance and leave to sort yourself out, but you disregarded it—yourself and everyone around you." He shouted before adding, "You're dismissed. The issue is in immediate effect. Report there first thing tomorrow morning." I balled my hand into a fist before turning around and leaving. "Don't bother packing up your things; I'll have Rook handle them!" As a reaction, I flipped him off without bothering to look back.

ㅤㅤMy memories cut off again, and I found myself standing in front of my apartment—drenched and shivering—as the rain and thunder snapped me out of it. "Hey, M. Are you okay? You're soaked," I heard someone say. Turning to look, I replied, "I'm fine, Mrs. Woods. Just... a lot has happened."

ㅤㅤShe took a good look at me before her old, trembling hand offered me a plastic bag. "What- no thanks, Mrs. Woods. You're too kind, but..." I tried, but she only gave me that look she gives when the neighbor's children are being a nuisance. I walked over to her and gratefully accepted it. Her smile was something like maternal warmth.

ㅤㅤ"Thanks, Mrs. Woods," I said with a small smile of my own before she waved me off dismissively and entered her apartment. Left outside, I checked the contents and hummed. 'An apple a day keeps the doctor away...' I looked back to her door, before I turned around and went into my own apartment.

ㅤㅤAs I shut the door, the sound reverberated through the empty space. The silence inside felt oppressive, suffocating—like what I was feeling—as I removed my sodden trench coat and draped it over the back of a chair, standing in the middle of the room, staring at the mess around me—papers and case files scattered across the coffee table; an old mug left forgotten on the counter, and the faint smell of something sour lingering in the air.

ㅤㅤThe weight of it all pressed down on me, and something inside just snapped. "Goddamn it!" I screamed, sweeping the pile of papers off the coffee table with one violent motion. They fluttered to the ground in a chaotic storm, but it wasn't enough. I grabbed the nearest chair and slammed it down against the floor, the wood splintering under the force.

ㅤㅤBreathing hard, I stormed through the apartment, shoving over stacks of books and knocking a lamp off the end table. The crash of glass shattering was oddly satisfying, yet the knot in my chest only tightened. My anger burned hot, whispering for more destruction—like I needed it—and so I grabbed a framed photo sitting on the bookshelf, ready to hurl it against the wall—until my eyes locked on it. The photo was of Alex.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

ㅤㅤI froze. The rage inside me that has been out of control went still, and in an instant, it was gone. All that I was left with was a wide empty hole—a part of me that felt dead—within me. My chest heaved as I stared at his face—the face that always wore a smile capable of brightening anyone's day. My hand trembled, and I found myself tracing a finger over the glass, following the curve of his cheek.

ㅤㅤTears blurred my vision as I slowly turned the frame downward and placed it gently on the shelf, careful not to break it. "You don't need to see me like this," I whispered, my voice cracking under the weight of my guilt, grief, and so much more. Turning away, consumed by disappointment and loathing, my gaze fell on the cabinet.

ㅤㅤI stumbled into the kitchen, stepping over the mess and debris left in the wake of my outrage, before yanking the cabinet open and grabbing the first bottle my hand found. Without bothering with a glass, I twisted off the cap and took a long drink, the sharp burn doing little to numb the ache inside me. The first bottle emptied faster than I realized, and soon, I could only vaguely count the bottles littered around me as I sat on the floor, my back pressed against the wall.

ㅤㅤTime blurred as I drank. The sharp edges of reality softened, and my line of sight grew hazy. 'When did it all go wrong...?' I muttered to no one, slumped on the floor with the back of my head resting against the wall as I stared up at the ceiling—searching for clarity in it all. Then the room began to spin slightly, and I closed my eyes. The alcohol in my system unlocked the floodgates, and memories and voices came rushing in.

ㅤㅤ'Watch it, buster, or you'll get into trouble.' My voice rang out, teasing but firm, as I watched Alex fiddle with some gadget at the kitchen table. 'Yeah, well, I doubt it. I mean, my sister is in the MCPD!' He looked up at me with that familiar grin—so full of life, so unmistakably him.

ㅤㅤ'Until I can't, so watch it,' I'd said with a soft laugh, ruffling his hair as I passed by. But as I looked over my shoulder, his grin faded—replaced by something more serious, and a sadness that came at a quiet realization. 'You won't...' The words came so softly I almost didn't hear them, but their weight was enough to make me pause. 'You won't let anything happen to me... I know you won't.' His sudden vulnerability took me by surprise, as he stood there firm in his belief on his words. I turned, leaning against the counter to face him fully.

ㅤㅤ'Hey, buddy... What got you thinking?' I asked, my tone was gentle as I match his, but he seemed to regret it and started to back out. 'Nah, it's nothing... Probably because I just haven't seen you around, is all,' he said, brushing it off. But it was in his wildest dream if I would just let it go.

ㅤㅤ'Come here,' I said, holding my arms open. 'Yeah, I'm not that young anymore,' he said, rolling his eyes but letting me pull him into a hug, and we stayed like that for a moment. 'Oh yeah? Well, tomorrow's Monday, and you've got school,' I teased, trying to lighten the mood, as he pulls away. 'No thanks. I'm going over to Paulie's to learn how to tinker with cars,' and immediately he regrets it when I shot him a pointed look, and he raised his hands in surrender.

ㅤㅤ'I'm joking! I'll go to him on the weekends. Happy?' Satisfied, I gave him a silent nod of approval along with a smile as I replied, 'Good boy,' as I ruffled his hair again.

ㅤㅤThe memory shifted, sharp and painful, to the last time I saw him. 'Hey, I'm running late—watch the house?' I called out as I grabbed my badge and headed for the door. 'Sure thing, "Mom,"' he replied, a gaming headset resting on top of his head. But just as I went to turn the knob on the door, I called out to him again, 'Oh, and Alex.' He turned around to look. 'Love you.'

ㅤㅤ'Yeah, yeah, I love you too—sis,' he replied, grinning at me one last time. The words echoed in my head, overlapping with his final breath in that sterile hospital room.

ㅤㅤ"Yeah... and I miss you too..." I croaked out, my voice lost to all my earlier outrage. My head lolled back against the wall as exhaustion caught up to me, the whiskey bottle slipping from my hand. The photo of Alex sat facedown on the shelf, safe from my anger and recklessness, but its presence lingered in my mind as I slowly slipped into a restless sleep.