Heal the Scars Left on the Heart

1: The Mob

October 31, 2039

Reader

Mark Dragon. Age 36. Has multiple records of DUI.

I sighed, and touched the screen of my monitor to flip through the next file.

Trey Jones. Age 34. Has a clean record... has three kids and a wife?!

How could you have kids and possibly murder?

I groaned, leaning into my chair and dipped my head up. I stared at the ceiling that looked brightly down at me with the eyes of its lightbulbs. I swung my feet, as if I was a child. I was bored and so out of it today.

You ever just have a day where you feel like doing nothing, sometimes even to the point where you're having a tough time breathing just to show how lazy you felt that day?

It was that kind of day... except that I have those days pretty much everyday. Just today in particular felt so much harder to keep my brain functioning.

I was assigned a case, involving a murder. This sick fuck has dismembered a 22 year old young man extremely deep in the forest within a park, where the trees were tall and the sun would barely come through. A perfect, isolated place to commit a crime so twisted.

A few foot prints were found near the scene, but not close enough. It was still a lead.

Thankfully, Hank was my partner on this case. Maybe I could just let him do the job and I'll just give him my two cents when he needed it.

I tilted my head to the side to look at the time on my monitor as I sunk deeper in my chair.

17 minutes remaining till I was off duty.

Nice.

"Lieutenant Anderson," a voice spoke up that grabbed my attention.

I looked at the cop reporting to Hank, and sat up in my chair to listen on, fixing my posture.

"What?" Hank spat with annoyance. He continued to skim through his files, not looking up at the cop.

He nervously spoke, "uh, the angry mob outside has grown in size."

Unfazed, he continued on to skim through his case.

"What do you want me to do about it?"

"Um..." the cop scratched behind his ears hesitantly. "They're blocking our entrance... Maybe you could go out and talk to them? We would ask Captain Fowler... but he's not present..."

Hank pursed his lips together, sighing deeply. He ignored the cop and continued to pretend like he was doing something.

I shook my head slightly as the cop and I made eye contact, and got up from my chair to make my way to the break room to kill some time.

I looked around, and the coffee machine spoke to me, enticing me to come closer.

I sighed and walked towards the machine.

A second cup of coffee? That doesn't sound so bad.

I mindlessly made my coffee, keeping it black. Dark and gloomy like the clouds that seemed ready to shower the crowd of angry people outside.