poison & wine |detective loki| COMPLETE

INNOCENCE (blurb)

Children are born with an innocence, an ignorant imagination and concept of the world. sticky fingers dig through the mud, catching under their fingernails. Dark crescent moons of dirt signified a good day. 

Now, the dirt caught under your nails made you physically ill. Hours ago, the frozen ground seemed to be your only life line as you heaved and gasped into the dirt, dried brown grass caressing your palms. Death was a violent lover. It clutched at you and held you until it swallowed you whole. Leaving only an imprint of what was.

You met him when you were a kid. Only innocence never got to be yours. At three years old, you went into foster care for the first time. Floated in and out since then. The facility you frequented the most was nestled right next to the Huntington Boys Home, a chain link fence the only divider. Conyers liked to advertise itself as a quiet community for the perfect family. The poor, lost souls of society were cornered away on the outskirts of town, unseen and unheard. 

The year you turned thirteen changed everything for you. You met a boy along the fence line, dark hair overgrown and blue eyes piercing, he introduced himself as David. Parents were no good, he said. Lived with an uncle, didn't work out, he said. The boy smelled like cigarettes, blood long dried and caked over his bruised knuckles, his mouth tasted like whiskey and his eyes were stormy. And you loved it all. 

Time changes things. At 18, you aged out of foster care and entered the world. Once unseen, unheard and unwanted, your soul burned with anger and spite. You were going to be seen, and they were going to hear you. You lost David at 16, one day he just disappeared without a trace. You heard whisperings of assault charges, military school, and prison. But the story changed weekly, you had accepted his disappearance. He was just gone. And that was that. 

You fell into the police academy haphazardly. An old social worker on your case had wormed her way into your head, telling you that you could help people the way you never were. Make a difference. Understand in a way most couldn't. Change things. Ten years later, you think she's full of shit. 

Folders were piled high onto your desk, your badge digging into your skin as you were slumped over the paperwork. Eyes bleary and head pounding, David approaches from behind you. His hands tug at your office chair, the wheels screeching as he turns you to face him, "Go home."

"No. I'm busy." You try to turn back towards your desk but David's arms are caging you in, halting the chair from movement. 

"You've been here since 4am. The only thing I've seen you eat is one granola bar and you're doing that thing you used to do when we were kids." 

You looked down to see your throbbing bloody thumb, an old habit you hadn't kicked. You picked and picked and picked until it was raw, bloody and infected. You noticed blood smudge on the corner of the papers at your desk and smeared into the fabric of your blouse. Shoving hands into the socket of your aching eyes, "Fine." 

A glimmer of satisfaction washed over Loki's eyes, a smirk tugging at his lips, "I'll see you at home." 

Home. After finishing the police academy, you were employed by the Conyers Police Department. A year on the job and David reappeared. A police officer with cropped hair, stony face and the same stormy eyes. You two had been partnered together, Captain O’Malley unknowing of the history you two had shared. Not many words were spoken between you two until a close call that ended up with you in the hospital with a gunshot wound. David moved in that night after you were discharged from the hospital. 

Years later, you two became the youngest detectives on the force. And the best. But you kept that quiet, the gnawing self doubt ate away at you, berating you constantly. 

Unlocking the door to your home, you dropped the duffle bag at the door and toed off your boots. Making your way to the kitchen sink, you plunged your hands into too hot water and scrubbed away the dirt and blood until your skin was red. Your throat was scratchy from crying, your head pounding from exhaustion. The case you were working on was eating you alive. Two missing little girls. The latest lead had been a loss, a house full of scribbled mazes, a sink full of pigs blood and buried mannequins. 

Showering did little to ease the tension in your body. The cheap beer and greasy pizza sprawled across the coffee table in front of you staved off the impending collapse another day longer. By the time David came home, your brain was fuzzy from the alcohol and you were falling into his embrace nestled into the couch. 

The boy you met at thirteen was your savior, and 16 years later he still was. The world was crumbling around you, this case was consuming you, but David was with you. And tomorrow will always be there.