𝐹𝐸𝐸𝐿𝑆 𝐿𝐼𝐾𝐸 𝑊𝐸 𝑂𝑁𝐿𝑌 𝐺𝑂 𝐵𝐴𝐶𝐾𝑊𝐴𝑅𝐷𝑆-𝐴𝑙𝑒𝑥 𝑇𝑢𝑟𝑛𝑒𝑟

Why is time a thing?

2 Nights Left...

Eleanor POV:

"If I never come back,
Tell my Momma I'm Sorry."

Tame Impala's song rung out of my phone speaker as I stood in front of the vanity mirror and applied the last of my makeup ready to head to the police station.

Crossley had called me this morning asking to see me one last time before I headed back to Paris. I'd gone back to my anti-depressants medication and just tried to convince myself that they were working.

I'd told the others that I was going to be out all morning and then I'd planned to just spend the day on my own as tonight we were heading down to Karaoke night in the hotel restaurant.

I needed some time alone as I was constantly around people, sure they made me happy and were comforting for me but at times to build yourself back up and become better again, You needed moments alone.

The station was cool as I walked in, LA sun practically scalding my bare arms and to feel the stations AC was like flipping your pillow to the cold side on a hot night.

"I'm here to see Detective Crossley." I said as I leant my hands onto the front desk, the receptionist typed a few times before nodding me to head down to the office.

The clacks of my sandals hitting the balls of my feet as I walked filled the hallway, a few officers walked past me and smiled sort of in a way like they knew I wasn't here for trouble.

I hated knocking on doors because afterwards you just stand there awkwardly waiting for someone to answer.

"Ah! Eleanor, thank you for coming in." Crossley's voice snapped me out my thoughts as she pulled the door open further for me to head inside.

The seat beneath my bare legs was uncomfortable, I tugged at the bottom of my shorts to adjust how they sat on me before shuffling myself into a comfortable position; Crossley's stilettos clicked as she walked around her desk and sat on her spinny chair, she was the definition of sophisticated.

Knee-length black skirt, black stilettos, white blouse and short black blazer, her hair slicked back into a tight-low bun and her glasses perched up on her nose delicately. Her lips a cherry red colour and her skin a warm colour with the blush and makeup she wore.

"Now, I understand you're leaving soon and I just want to prepare you that you will be spoken to by the Paris Police Department once you arrive home..." I nodded following along as she spoke, my leg crossing over the other and my fingers flicking my phone case on and off the side of my phone, something I did to keep my hands occupied.

"As they've let Murnov go, that means they'll still be searching for whomever did this.." My back twitched against the seat as I struggled to understand how they could just let a potential murderer go and assume that it's someone else.

"...This also means that an officer will be outside your home watching your door every minute of every day.." I furrowed my brows a little and gaped my mouth as I went to ask my question.

"So does Peter still live in the same building as me?" I asked, my palms breaking a cold sweat at the thought of even encountering him.

"No, he's currently moving out now, it was much advised by the police that he did and he obliged." Crossley tapped her pen against a piece of paper on her desk but kept her gaze on mine.

"Thank you for your time and coming in to meet me, amongst the circumstances it's still been lovely to meet you and you've been a pleasure for me to work with.." Crossley stood slowly and held her hand out, I copied her actions and firmly shook her hand.