Where These Souls Go

The beginning

The first thing I noticed was the color of the sky. Orange, red, and yellow, like a painting of an everlasting sunset. There weren't any clouds in sight, and the sun wasn't at all blinding as it usually was. Instead, it emitted soft light, as if it were letting down it's shield and finally allowing the world to view it with the naked eye. The next thing was the water, which was perfectly clear and resembled clean glass more than anything, as it remained completely calm in an uninterrupted stillness. I felt my body turn around on the hill I was standing on that overlooked this enormous body of water, until I was facing a new direction, viewing a completely different site. But before my eyes could take it all in, they first found a silhouette, moving towards me on cue in an almost rehearsed manner. The silhouette, I found, was that of a man. He was tall, slender, and proper, I noted, looking at his gray tailored suit. The man moved his lips to speak, and I heard...
I shot up in bed, my heart racing from the sudden interruption. I slammed my alarm clock with my hand, turning off the repetitive and annoying sound. I took a moment to realize my surroundings, before throwing off the sheets and stumbling out of bed. I started my daily routine, finding myself a bit distracted in doing so. That man in my dream kept popping into my mind, but I could never see his face, no matter how hard I tried. I eventually gave up, grabbing my coat and running outside in the December air.
It was cold in the big city of Milwaukee, Wisconsin, where snow always fluttered softly from gray skies and collected into piles bigger than myself at times. While it is a bother to shovel, it is beautiful and marvelous and peaceful as it falls.

"The road will be slippery," I thought, "I should leave if I don't want to be late."

I hopped into my silver Camry and backed out of my snowy drive, carefully starting my fifteen minute drive to work.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I arrived just in time, pushing open the doors to my office. The place was lively, for it being seven in the morning. This was something I appreciated about my work. As I looked around, someone approached me.

"Olivia, you look awful," the voice snickered.

I turned to face my partner, Detective Jensen Moore, shaking my head at him. A smile spread on my face, as it usually did.

"Yeah, well, I didn't get much rest," I explained, nodding at the craze that was happening around us, "What's all the buzz?"

He and I started to walk around the station.

"You know how it is. Crime never sleeps. Unfortunately, neither do idiots," he explained, stopping in front of the big glass window that showed the inside of our interrogation room and nodding in the opposite direction.

I followed his eyes to a man being escorted by two uniformed officers. He was scruffy, with a full beard and long hair. He was cuffed behind his back.

"That guy's coming in for DUI. We're keeping him for the night," he explained, turning his attention to a woman sitting in a chair, "That woman's place was robbed a few hours ago. They brought her into ID the suspects."

I looked at Jensen.

"Already?" I asked in surprise.

He smiled, shrugging.

"It's been a busy night," he laughed.

Slowly turning, I looked through the glass at the man sitting inside the room. He was cuffed at the table. He was bald and covered in tattoos, and his eyes were dark and small. I shivered at the sight of him.

"What about that guy?" I asked Jensen.

He turned and followed my gaze at the bone-chilling man.

"He threatened a lot of people. Held hostages up in a bank," he explained.

The man balled his hands into fists. I tilted my head, taking him in. Something about this man was almost--

"All units. We have a hostage situation on 28th. Repeat, we have a hostage situation on 28th. There are casualties." Jensen's radio went off.

We looked at each other for a moment, before taking off towards our cars.
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I drove faster than I should have on the icy roads, my siren blaring as I followed Jensen in his car to the scene. I listened as voices blasted through the radio. Briefing us about what was to come.  Another murder. Another crime. I shook my head and gripped the steering wheel, teething with anger. I loved my job. I loved the justice that was served, but I hated what had to happen before. What had to take place before the justice.  I pressed further down onto the gas, praying that we would reach the scene fast enough to stop anything else from happening. Everything was a blur around me, the sounds, the sights, everything. All my focus was, was the destination. That is, until Jenson started to yell.  I heard him in the radio.

"Whoa! Careful, ice patch coming u---"

He never finished, before my wheel caught onto the ice. I felt my car spin out, and then flip over, until there was glass shattering all around me. I heard screams and shouts, and I saw Jensen's feet as he ran towards me. Pulling a piece of glass from my head, I looked up for a brief moment to see two headlights coming towards me. I heard the shouts...

"MPD! Stop your vehicle!"

And Jensen...

"God dammit, stop!"

But it was too late. The roads were slippery, the streets were dark, and there were a million other things that went wrong that day.

Their cries echoed in my brain as those headlights rammed into the side of my totaled car. I felt myself slide fast until there was no more ground left. The car tipped, falling down down down, plunging into the deep waters of the river below. I felt myself float out of the car, as the chilling water seemed to soak all the way to my bones. That's the last thing I remember, before I blacked out.