𝐒𝐈𝐆𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐀

𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚛

𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚛 — ❝closely guarded crystals❞

"Samaria - just hold on, I'm on the way!"

"Leave me alone! Solomon, what the fuck do I do?"

"Just stay on the phone with me okay?

"Solomon I-"

𝚂𝙸𝚃𝚃𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚄𝙿 𝙰𝙱𝚁𝚄𝙿𝚃𝙻𝚈, Solomon's chest heaved, leaving his gasping for air as he stared into the dark, empty nothingness of his bedroom.

Sweat dripped down his chest and back, droplets trickling down into the waistband of his sweatpants. The sheet beneath him was damp, sweat soaked and embedded into the thin, yet soft cotton material. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he could see the mess that surrounded him - sheets thrown haphazardly across the bed, slipping onto the floor, while his pillows were thrown about the room. On his bedside table was an open bottle of Jack Daniels - rich, caramel liquid resting at the bottom of the rigid, designed glass.

Solomon's head swirled with anguish, almost immediately feeling the rush of emotions and memories that flooded back to him. Thoughts of his sister had begun tormenting him nearly every night, disrupting and disturbing his sleep cycle and sanity - something of which lately, Solomon thought was slipping from his grasp quicker than before. He used to be able to dream of happy, pleasant things - but with his new responsibilities, new issues seemed to bring up past traumas. In his dreams, Solomon could smell the gunpowder and blood that coated his hands, and feel the weight of the lifeless, soulless body of his sister in his arms.

Solomon wasn't one to drink before bed - promising himself that old habits were laid to rest and never to be resurrected again - but with the way he felt the weight of the world on his shoulders...sometimes it got too much to bear. And the serpent's tongue was longing for a drop of sweet, strong relief.

Peeking out from underneath his tall, blackout curtains was the subtle glow of sunlight. Solomon's muscles ached as he got out of bed, his feet hitting the plush, soft carpet beneath his feet. Coming over to the window, he pulled the curtain aside, wincing at the blast of sunlight that greeted his eyes. Life was in full swing just beyond the glass - with cars driving across the asphalt, along with people walking on the sidewalk, pushing strollers and walking their dogs.

Solomon envied those that seemed to be able to continue on with life, unbothered that the sky was falling down around them.

It had been a long two weeks - between working on the last crime scene and another that they found about two days afterwards - he's surprised he's managed to get any sleep at all. With the name and story of Carmine Killer filling the streets, Solomon hasn't gone twenty-four hours without hearing - or seeing - something, anything about the killer. It's damn near unavoidable, now - discussions about the killer were filling the news, along with Twitter and Facebook. Even at the gas station Solomon couldn't get away from it - finding trampled newspapers from the AJC with their latest update on the murders.

It was all anybody was talking about. He couldn't escape it - conversations at the grocery store, getting his oil changed, or even at his favorite wing place off MLK.

All Solomon wanted to do was fade away from it all.

And as much as he wanted to stay home, wallow in his despair and spend the day alone, he knew that he couldn't. He knew that it wasn't healthy.

So he decided to go to the one place that brought him peace, and visit the one person who he felt understood him -

His sister.