It's Not My Style (EXO Kris fanfic) [#Wattys2016]

Tape

Summer has finally begun. The time all students as well as teachers crave. The time most parents hate as their kids would go out and spend their hard earned money. The time for outings, beaches and fun.

Summer time, when the days are longer and hotter than the nights. And in one of those long hot days, a ruckus was going down in the small police department on Clinton street.

"When huh?" A clearly angered Detective Henry leans over the not so large wooden table, staring straight into Frank's eyes.

"It takes time," Frank, the head of the department, calmly answers fidgeting with a blue pen in his hands.

"It's been 3 months," Henry, annoyed, pulls the pen out of Frank's fingers and slams it on the desk, "since I've requested all the material used in Anne Wills' case!"

"Henry," Frank sternly says, "you've put a request like I told you. Now all you have to do is wait."

"Wait for what? Another promotion? Or a retirement plan to shut me up?" Detective's words were aimed at Frank who snapped at this remark but didn't have time to say anything as the other person left the office.

                 Detective Henry's (POV)

Do they think I'm stupid? Handing me all this useless crap. I push all the files and robbery cases off my desk. "Just to keep me busy." 

"I'm guessing it didn't go well," Charles enters our office room with a cup of coffee in hand.

"They'll never give me the evidence," I sigh running a hand through my hair. Why? Is there something people mustn't know about? Or could she....perhaps be....?

                          Rachel's (POV)

Just like every other day, I came to visit my daughter. As always she was baking some croissants. Blueberry croissants. It's funny how she's only alive when I'm in this room with her.

Once I leave, I must pretend like she's dead. I don't know why, but Anne's asked me to. I think I understand her in some way. After what she went through, there must be some sort of people after or holding a grudge against her.

"How's Anne?" Heather asks placing a cup of tea on the coffee table for me. She always asks that, and I always say, "She's fine, working."

"It's a shame she hasn't come,"

"She recently remembered everything, it's a lot to take in," I lie. There's no way I can tell her that her daughter, whom she hasn't seen in 15 years, is jailed. "Besides, she's got a lot of work keeping her occup-" I rapidly cover my mouth, coughing into the palm of my hand.

"Are you feeling alright?"

"Yeah, just a summer cold."

David's (POV)

"Had enough yet?" Sally's mocking voice penetrates my bleeding ears and I push myself off the ground.

It's been this way for months now. Everyday, sometime in the evening, right before dinner, I'd be dragged into an empty cell at the farthest end of this whole damned prison. And there I'd be beat by same 7 people while Sally watches.

I know what everyone must think, 'aren't you an assassin? Can't you protect yourself?' Well how do you protect yourself without fighting back? Without running away because you're surrounded, and if you push through it'll be counted as an attempt at trouble? With only hands and legs and a fully exposed back, how am I supposed to protect myself?