MORGAN'S MISSING

10-66

December 8th, 2017
California, Los Angeles

Officer Daniel Ramirez:

*BANG*
*BANG*
*BANG*

    I jolt awake at the sound of pounding on my door. 'Who is up this late?'. I look at my clock, 3:40 am. Rushing to my door I look through the peephole. Panic fills me as I see Morgan, tears streaming down her now red face.

    "What's wrong?" I ask, quickly opening the door. Morgan rushes in, shutting the door and locking it. She leans her head against the dark wood, trying to moderate her breathing.

     "Mo?" I ask, placing a hand on her shoulder. She flinches but doesn't back away from my touch. I watch in shock as she breaks down, sobs wracking her entire body. I move closer, enveloping her in my arms. My chest taking the place of the door.

      "I'm so fucked" She cries, her hands gripping at my shirt. My heart breaks and I desperately want to know what made her feel like this. Instead of asking her questions, I just hold her tighter. Her sobs are relentless, to the point she's screaming for air and her knees give out. I sink to the floor with her, pulling her into my lap.

     "Mo! Mo! You have to calm down, breathe with me? In... out... in .... out... come on you have to do this" I say, desperate to help her breathe properly. After some convincing she finally complied, breathing how I instructed.

     "Dani, I'm in so much trouble... I- I don't know what to do" She whimpers, finally looking up at me. Her green eyes are red and irritated, eyelashes thick with tears.

      "Tell me Mo, you can trust me" I encourage her, using my thumb to wipe away some fresh tears that are falling down her cheeks. She hiccups, smiling sadly.

       "I don't want to get you involved" She mumbles, her hands nervously fidgeting with my shirt.

      "Please tell me. How can I help you? Is it your grandma?" I ask, pleading her with my eyes.

      "My grandma's part of it. I-I just can't with her anymore. We got into an argument and she started saying... saying all this stuff. Calling me all these names. Ha ha, all because I forgot to take out the trash. I-I can't deal with her anymore Danni. She treats me like trash. You see this bruise forming on my arm? That's from her throwing a shoe at me. She-She took my paycheck, pocketing my money. Dani, she took my money. She's taken just about everything from me. I feel so alone. And- I- I did something stupid, I stole from the wrong person. Now-now I'm gonna wind up dead. Ha, just like 'all the other bad girls' is what my grandma would say" She rants, and I just sit there listening to her. I inspect the huge darkening bruise on her arm. I remember being woken up by beer bottles being broken on my head. Or to a foot in the stomach. I felt for Morgan, she didn't deserve it. Her grandma may be old but emotional-abuse is just as valid as physical. From the months I've known Morgan, she's put up with all this verbal and emotional abuse. She was strong but I could see she was breaking.

      "I'm so sorry Mo. You don't deserve that, I don't know how to help you. I legally can't besides tip off the police of child abuse. Then you'd have a possibility to live with your parents. But that doesn't seem like a good idea. I truly don't know Mo." I say exhausted. I didn't know how I could help her. From what I could tell, her grandma wasn't going to ease up anytime soon. Or let Morgan go.

      "Mo, you said you stole from the wrong person? What's that mean? That'd you'd end up dead?" I ask, eyebrows lifting in confusion. She tenses, reaching up to chew her nails.