A bead of sweat dripped down the side of your nose and onto the barrel from the tip. It rolled down to the trigger and stayed there swinging. You tried focusing on any small detail to distract from the taste of metal and constriction of your tongue. You knew you shouldn't and there wasn't a clear reason for you to pull the trigger.
Life was great growing up. Loving parents, roof over your head, food on the table, money in the bank. Even know thats your situation. So why? Why then, would you take your life? And so why carelessly at that?
Suddenly, there was a soft knock at the door
Followed by her soft voice.
"James, honey, is everything alright in there?" You'd been in that bathroom longer than you'd made an appearance around the house. It left a sinking feeling in her chest, one that had her fingers hovering over the knob, ready to burge into the room and confront you about all the nights previous when she'd had to comfort the baby all on her lonesome. But you were stressed with work, and the door was likely locked anyway.
Her hand returned to her side, the other clinched a phone. It illuminated her face with the movement as she stared at the door: a barrier between you and her. "You have two missed phone calls from a Mr...Oudette." She stood in the silence as it draped over her shoulders like a cold silk robe. Then she sighed as she took a step back towards the empty sheets. "I'll leave it on the nightstand for when you're out."
"I've finally got the baby to sleep," she added. A final remark before she crawled back into bed.
You unloaded the gun as quietly as possible and covered the noise with a flush of the toilet. You washed your hands, feeling filthy after holding the gun so long. Maybe a cold splash of water would take care of your pale face and sunken eyes... So you did just that and could only hope she didn't notice the nightly pattern.
You opened the door and rushed to your phone. It was vibrating again but it turned back off before you could reach it. Two missed calls.
"Shit..."
You quickly dialed back, fearing something bad might have gone down at the station. There were only four cops on their shift tonight, but there were plenty of better officers they could call. Yet again, its YOU they always call for backup.
After the third ring, your partner picked up with a strange tone in his voice.
Pleasantries were replaced by methodically breathing: in and out. Then again, in and out, a rigid performance of such a mundane task which made it seem as though the caller was relearning the basic functions of living beings. It wouldn't be their first time: neither their concentrated breathing nor being acclimated to mortality. "The situation has worsened, sir. The DA is-" There was a brief pause: a moment where the person on the phone glanced over their shoulder to double-check on reality. "The DA is dead. Same M.O. as the previous case." And the case before that. All high-profile figures dead in gruesome ways with an attempt at being sly with their morbid humor. It made his head spin and his stomach turn; the young cop leaned up against a wall, eyes closed at the all-too-familiar unfortunate sight of himself - and of the death around him.
You took a deep breath in, remembering the last two cases and their victims. "So I'm guessing you want me there again? Honestly, this is draining. Never been so many murders this close together...not in my years at least. Send me the adress, I'll be there faster than a bullet."
You added the location onto your GPS app and swiftly dressed yourself.
But you couldn't step out the room before a pillow flew onto the back of your head. "What the-" you looked back at the bed, only to see your wife with tears staining her cheeks.
"I'm fighting for my husband's attention, and I'm losing to the city." The tears freely rolled down her cheeks, her arms too busy consoling her to wipe them away. "Do you know how that feels, James? And no one's to blame, right? When was the last time I woke up next to you? When was the last time you held me? Goddammit, have you even once rocked that baby to sleep?"
She lowered her head. This was usually when guilt would spill out in the form of an apology, but none came. It was exhausting: this relationship, but she loved you. Or a slowly fading memory of who you once were. But memories are only the recollection of a recollection, and on and on it goes: that memory of a memory of a memory, being molded together by newer memories and their corresponding emotions. Currently, her mind was finding that it had little to work with as it rebuilt those memories from watered-down daydreams. "Go. The city's missing one of its heroes."
"I- I don't know what to say. Look I'm sorry that work's been consuming so much of...me" You walked back towards her and sat on the edge of the bedframe that stuck out, not feeling you deserved to be on the mattress. She laid back and turned away from you, which had been her way of telling you to leave her alone since you'd first started dating. "Listen, I know I'm bad father. But I promise, things will change. Just- after tonight... There's another mur-" you watched as she curled into fetal position, knowing what you'd say. She was, after all, the first one to know when you were called up to investigate the brutal crimes. "Another SCENE. I love you, I'll be back before lunch, I hope."
She scattered to reach for your arm and hold you back just for a moment longer to kiss you. "I'm sorry, I'll do- I'll BE better. I'll bring you some croissants from the bakery on my way home?" She just nodded and smiled, knowing it had never been your intention to disregard your family duties.
You silently made your way downstairs and into the garage to get the car. "Maybe I really should've gotten a faster car, that damn STI sounds nice right about now." You stepped into the beige crown victoria with its fair share of dents and roared off into the street.
