❛𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐁𝐄 𝐒𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐃, 𝐈'𝐌 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐖𝐈𝐅𝐄...❜ | 𝐍𝐨.𝟑

Chapter 11- You'd Better Run...And Run Forever...

Emma's POV:
Part of me didn't believe I'd get to this stage - the naive part, that is. 'Naivety' is one of my worst personality traits, and one of the most unfortunate due to my job, that requires a hefty amount of lucid thinking. My Sargent sweeps his eyes over the laid out evidence widely splayed across my desk, clues left right and centre, just none as to who the perpetrator could possibly be...

"I know it's not much, but we've solved cases with less before. This bastard is driving me insane, and I won't allow them to any longer." I take a seat behind my desk, grabbing my beer bottle and having a swig to take the edge off. Damn, that's good. Drinking on the job isn't exactly a good look, but Andy's no snitch. "Tough week?" a 'tsk' of an exhausting sigh escapes my mouth, accidentally slipping out. "Tough month. Hopefully not for much longer..." we try our best to conjure up a suspect list, anyone who could be anyone with enough hatred, bothering and determination to begin this long path of justifying destruction, but the amount of names I've managed to wrack my brain for as to who would have the balls to stalk me, a DCI, are quite shortly limited.

My anger increases, the longer this investigation goes on, withering away, the more time my family are considered 'unsafe'. My job is keeping the people of London safe, a job that i try my absolute hardest at...but it seems as though I can't even succeed at keeping my own family safe. Standing up and pacing the length of my office, I grind my teeth to produce an ear-piercing sound within my mouth, my tensed, agitated legs fastly picking up the annoyingly created pace and eventually gaining enough strength in sheer animosity to kick over the nearest filled bin to me, the metal container tipping over, hitting the wall with a loud crash, and the unsanitary contents spilling onto the floor wholly. Continuing to pace, my head turns to my sargent, who's wearing a disapproving look on his expression whilst clearing up the mess I've made. "Real mature, boss."

After a quick eye roll and another uneventful tsk of my pearly white teeth, I find myself too angered and revved up to continue staying inside a large building that holds several kinds of police weapons, ones that could cause severe intended damage to any one soul who dares cross me on this messed up day, that would definitely be in for a shocking treat. I exit out of the nearest door, removing myself from this building in its entirety for the best, eager to find possible some way to blow off the hot, hot steam my body is pumped to the max with.

I have got to get out of here...

❀❀❀

As you may have candidly picked up on, I've never been the typical kind of blonde to 'go on runs'- how do people even do that? To muster up the energy and bother to attire yourself in sporty clothing, the classic hoodie-tied-around-waist, water bottle in hand, as well as the occasional crop top barely covering the upper body, nothing appeals to me less in a way to remain physically healthy. However, it's a proven fact that any form of physical activity is the best way to relieve the well-known emotion of anger, which is a feeling I'm deeply craving right now. After attiring myself in my trainers and ditching my work blazer for a more comfortable fit, I begin my journey down the closest road to me, unsure of where I'm headed exactly, but don't find that information important to me.

Whilst my long, stretched out journey continues, I can't help but ponder deeply within my minds crust...

They're my kids, she's going to be my wife...I must protect them. Even if it's the last thing I do...the detective in me can't stand that there's a human being out there who's going a ridiculously long time unpunished for a crime intended to cause grief and torment to the victims, as well as the mother in me who wants every ounce of security possible for her children, anything less than deemed 'unacceptable'.