The Reckoning of the Offended

Chapter 1

Detective Carol Watson woke up as the dawn light filtered through her curtains, her thoughts disrupted and dispersed. The bed creaked as she moved around, her foot touching the carpeted floor below. Her foot at once felt the coffee mark on the carpet, fresh from the early morning drink she had made herself at two o'clock that morning. She groaned in anger at where she had placed her foot. Carol groped around for her Air pods, wanting to drown out her thoughts about her last case on the police force. As soon as the Air pod reached her ear, Olivia Rodrigo's "Traitor" blasted through the inbuilt speaker. Her heart beated to the same rhythm as the music whilst she walked to the white-tiled bathroom. The shower sat there in its position; head tilted towards her as if to beckon her to have one. Carol shook her greasy, hazel hair from its usual ponytail and tried to wash it, fluff and leaves falling out into the bathtub below. She looked in the mirror and saw that her face was as pale as a ghost's.  

Carol headed to her office at the station in her black and yellow Chevrolet Camaro ZL-28, stopping off at the Waffle House on her way. She ordered her usual (her banoffee waffle with hazelnuts and fresh whipped Chantilly cream followed by a drink of banana milk with a flake and banana slices) and ate it in the silent restaurant, the radio playing in the background. Even the music sounded boring. She took an iced honeycomb coffee in the car to keep her cool in the heatwave occurring in New York. She flicked on the radio and raced to the office before her boss decided to give her a late mark and dock her wage for that week. As she arrived, she nodded respectively to the receptionist, Ms. Flora Flowers, who was known for wearing abnormal clothes. Today was no different: she was wearing a floral printed dress, bright blue tights and flipflops that were half on her feet and half off. "She looks an absolute sight," Carol thought, glad she was wearing her uniform. The uniform consisted of a white shirt, black trousers, black leather boots, a blue jacket, a cowboy-like hat, and a badge that had to be polished until it gleamed, or there would be trouble. Then again, she was wishing she had chosen something a little more practical for the office as her uniform was already sticking to her back, sweat keeping it in place. 

 She headed for the elevator and punched in the floor number she needed. Number 11. Her lucky number. The elevator pinged and, just as the doors opened, a small man with a red face rushed up to her and told her about the new case. A beige manila folder was handed to her, and she was filled in on what Meredith Lonsdale (the coroner) had discovered. A young girl (with the name of Callie Horn Meadow) had been discovered strangled to death and then hung on a tree in the middle of Royal Woods. She was discovered by a hiker who was in the forest. The hiker was in an interview room and looked positively shaken at the thought of discovering a body on his peaceful Sunday. The hiker recognized Carol at once and Carol recognized the hiker. It was her ex-boyfriend, Jeff Bloomer. "God help me," Carol muttered under her breath, quiet enough not to be heard by Jeff. This was her nightmare come true! The reason she had left Jeff was because he was an abusive boyfriend, even hitting her in front of her friends or in the streets. As she looked at Jeff, she realized he was as disheveled as she was; his hair was unkempt and he had dark, black bags under his eyes from lack of sleep. They locked eyes and Carol cleared her throat before sitting down to start. She asked all the usual questions you should ask when investigating a murder but only got one response the entire time: "She was a young girl! A girl! That is going to haunt me for the rest of my life!" This was when Carol suggested therapy with Ms. Delores for poor Jeff. Her heart felt like it was going to rip to pieces even after what she had been through with Jeff. She shook the tears out of her bloodshot eyes and said "Thanks for coming in to talk to us Mr. Bloomer. We appreciate it. We will contact you if we need any more of your help!" She shook his hand, and he walked out, his shoulders shaking as he tried not to embarrass himself by crying in front of the entire police station of New York.