The 0714 Files: File #1 Inferno (Remake 2)

Chapter 8

September 25th, 10 P.M EST, N.Y.C.

"Thank you for calling... have a goodnight."

I settle the phone back into the receiver and rub my sleep encrusted eyes. "It's best you don't come in at all, Leon." The woman on the other end from the R.P.D. told me abruptly, after implying something big in the station has happened.

Calls me and tells me without a reason not to show up the night before I'm supposed to drive out. Perfect.

Switching on the lamp on the end table beside the butter yellow couch Grace insisted on us buying. A soft glow is emitted into the room, and from it, I can see the closed door to our bedroom. Even though I've been sleeping on the couch for the last few weeks now. She's in there right now, probably fast asleep in our bed we bought together in her never ending state of constantly ignoring me this week—

The door cracks open, and for the first time in the last day Grace actually graces me with her presence and attention for once.

Long, bright blonde hair pulled into a messy bun, she rubs a tired brown eye with a light pink painted fingernail. "Who's calling so late at night?" she demands, her plush lips turned into a frown. She went to bed in the world's shortest pair of striped pink and purple pajama shorts, and matching short sleeve button up. The same one's she's had since we spent our first night together in college. The pair she knows I can't help but feel a little bit of blood flow south in my sweatpants because of memories of taking her out of said pajamas.

Clearing my throat while feigning a cool expression. If that's what she wanted, it's the reaction she got. But like hell I'm interested in the thoughts involving her that it's provoking right now. "It's nothing," I grumble, standing to walk around the coffee table bearing the remains of my dinner tonight. A box of Chinese takeout and a bottle of Mountain Dew are waiting to be thrown in the trash, because whatever Grace made tonight when she got off work before me. She made only for herself.

I'm getting really tired of this silent treatment—

"Hey!" she grabs my arm as I pass the entryway into the small dining room and kitchen, and flick the dim light on. "Who was it that called?"

I stop and turn to Grace, somewhat startled by the physical contact. She hasn't actually touched me in over a week since the last time she tried making a move. Resolving in not even kissing me anymore when I told her I didn't want to have sex with her after how she's been treating me.

Shrugging her arm off, "The R.P.D., okay?" I respond sharply.

Her waxed brows furrow in confusion, "At ten o'clock at night? Why?" she pulls her hand away and crosses them over her chest. Like she's purposefully trying to accentuate her breasts that I now spot the first and top button are undone and reveal better. She damn well knows I know she's not wearing a bra either. She never has.

We haven't done anything remotely intimate in over a month. The last time being shortly before my big news of the R.P.D. in Raccoon City, Missouri offering me an interview. It's like she's been trying to whittle me down, as if sex will be the thing that changes my mind. She's tried everything under the sun to break me, both towards that and not leaving for Raccoon tomorrow morning. She knows the moment I'm in my car and I drive away it's over between us if she won't join me in the decision. I won't change my mind in starting my life in a city that's offering a promising start to my career as an officer.

With the lack of any packing on her part, while I myself have boxes of what little I've moved between a college dorm, an academy dorm, and here. Already duct taped and stored safely in boxes in a corner of the living room. Ready for tomorrow when I set them into the back seat of my Jeep for the long drive across the country. I know she's not leaving, that this matter has been settled without so much as uttering a word.