The Degenerates - Under Edit

n i n e t e e n

The weekend arrived in a superbly sombre start. The sky dark and angry, sending cracks of lighting streaking across the sky like shards of broken glass. Thunder exploded like a grenade, detonating over above our heads. The rain poured heavily, battering aggressively against the windows, so much so you couldn't see out of them.

I laid in bed, bundled up in my doona, trying not to move too much, the knife wound in my leg tearing open each time I jolted. My blood stained jeans shoved in the bottom of the cupboard, not having the energy to wash them last night.

Lightning lit up the room again in flashes. "Neijla," Lila's sleepy voice called.

"I'm hungry, like really hungry."

I smiled, "Are you really?" she hasn't eaten properly in weeks, and I could tell she was started to emerge out of her shell again.

"Yeah," I heard her sit up in her bead, "Do you want to go out for breakfast?"'

Thunder so loud it rattled the windows, crashed outside, "Is that a good idea?"

"Maybe not," she concluded, "But, we can always order, what do you want?"

I stayed laid down, not wanting to move, "Eggs and bacon roll sounds swell right now,"

"Coffee?"

"100%"

Our food arrived around 20 minutes later, Lila having gotten up and showered. I knew she was trying, and I feel like now that I'm the one bundled in bed, she needed to take the reigns as the one with her life together. That, or she was starting to move away for the idea that Brad was going to return anytime soon.

I had just finished my bacon and egg roll and was laying satisfied when our door handle jiggled, when the person noticed it was locked, it was forced open.

"What the fuck Trey?"

I glared at him from across the room. No phone call? No message to say he was coming? Just come and break into our room? His hair was soaked, pressed to his forehead, equally as drenched as his shirt, which clung to his torso. He wasn't even wearing a jacket.

He flew into the room, "Lila?"

I would have stood up from the bed if my leg hadn't seared like it were on fire.

"Lila," Trey sat on her bed, wet clothes and all, reaching and placing his hands on her shoulders. She looked at him, bewildered. "The Police are here, and it's about Brad."

Her face paled, and before Trey mentioned anything else, the door was knocked on. My heart sank.

Lila rose from the bed, her face solemn, like she was a ghost, gliding across the floor. I watched her hand shake as she opened the door, muttering a weak, "Yes?"

Constable St Lauren was accompanied by a much taller man, who appeared to be much sharper. His suit sleek, his hair combed. His face shaven with utmost precision. I felt the lump rise in my throat, and I knew the news would be grim.

"Hello again, Lila. Detective Cartwright," St Lauren introduced, "May we come in?"

The detective looked me up and down as I laid in my bed, and he scrutinized Trey, who glared back. The two policemen stepped into the room, closing the door softly. Lila sat back down.

"Lila, I want to ensure that you are most comfortable right now, we have some news on the Chadwick case." St Lauren told her, and she nodded eagerly.

The detective moved in front of the tubby constable and sat down next to Lila on the bed, "I regret to inform you," his voice silky smooth, deep and crisp, "we have identified the body found at Notting Creek. It is at my despair that I inform you that it is indeed Bradley Chadwick."