You stumble through the door to your house, still shaking and nauseaous. Another [[wave of guilt]] rolls through you, and you break for the bathroom, almost tripping over your own feet. You vomit, but all that comes up is bile and stinking liquid. You rinse your mouth and stare at [[yourself]] in the mirror. What happened to you?
You shrink off your clothes and rummage through the bedside drawer for two (click-replace: "two")[your last two] sleeping pills. You pop them in your mouth and swallow before climbing into bed. Sleep [[knocks you out|next day]] almost instantly.
You rush out into the street, still in painful disbelief at the news. (link-reveal: "She can't be dead.")[ The surgery was supposed to be minor, not high risk. //Like having a tooth extracted//, she had said when you expressed your concern a couple weeks ago.]
Rain thunders down on you, drenching you from head to toe. The roar of the storm muffles your sobs, and the water dripping into your eyes blinds you. Despite this, you continue to run, [[not quite in any direction]], picking up speed as (cycling-link: "anger", "outrage", "violence") overcomes you. It was not supposed to end so soon. It was not supposed to end.
Someone will have to pay. They will just have to [[pay->run home]].You wake up with heavy limbs, dreading the work day ahead of you. As you complete your morning routine, you envision the (link-reveal: "worst possible scenarios.")[ //All eyes on you as you walk through the door. Whispering, glaring, and down right cold shoulders from your collegues. Passive aggressive comments. Aggressive accusations. Outright threats. An intervention from your team. A summon from the medical director.//]
Nothing like a little pessimism to toughen up your skin for the [[worst day of your life.]]The weight of what you've done is pressing in on your chest, and rendering you unable to breathe. You don't think you can live like this for very long. You had better set it right. Go all the way to the top. One and done.
You slowly trudge to the director's office, feeling as if you were walking towards the gates of hell. By the time you approach his door, you are sweating through your shirt, a large sweat stain forming across your back. How appropriate. You raise your hand and [[knock on his door.]]No, she cannot tell anyone. She //won't// tell anyone. Besides, it's her word against yours anyway. Who are people more likely to believe, a veteran surgeon or some nurse?
You track down the nurse and find her in the break room. She looks up as you walk in, eyes widening when she notices you closing the door. She will not say a word about this. [[You will guarantee it.]]
The nurse looks equally disgusted and horrified by the time you are done, darting from the room as soon as you open the door. Satisfied, you make the final rounds of your shift, ignoring the knawing sensation in your stomach. A walk home might clear your mind.
[[walk home]]
After running for what feels like hours, your legs finally give out. A small pothole in the middle of the road trips you, and you land face first in the cold, wet, cement. After the day you've just had, this really is the icing on the cake.
You lie on the road for a while, rain seeping into the cuts and scratches on your face. It stings, but you can't imagine any pain being worse than the one inside you. You push yourself up and look around. You realize that, somehow, without you really noticing, your legs have taken you [[home]]. You punch the address into your phone. Not too far from here. You rush out of the hospital and jump into your car.
The map plots two different routes. The front road--the highway--is more circular. The back road--feeder streets--is more straightforward.
[[take back road]]
[[take front road]]The door to your house feels like a threshold. If you enter, you may never want to leave. If you don't...
You step back from the door just enough to peer through the window. The blinds are down, but you can just make out the table lamp in the living room that you never turn off. The yellow glow is hypontizing and you walk up to the door.
No. no slacking. No easy way out. You deserve answers. Closure. You back away from the door and jump back in your car, driving away before you can change your mind.
[[take back road]]
[[take front road]] Normally, your walk home from work is stress-relieving, mind-clearing, and energy inducing. But today, panic grips at your brain. You just threatened to blackmail your co-worker. On top of everything else, that certainly adds to your growing list of crimes.
By the time you get home, you're finding it particularly difficult to breathe. Panic grips at your chest and you're beginning to get dizzy. You need something to take the edge off.
[[smoke]]
[[take pills]]
[[drink]]
The back roads are quiet, and you pick up the speed to 85 mph, despite the clear indication of 50. You don't notice that you have sped past a cop car until you hear the sirens.
"Pull over to the side of the road please," you hear the police shout. Well shit.
You slow down and pull over, rolling down your window and placing your hands on the steering wheel. Might as well get this over with, [[quick and easy.]]
The highways are mostly empty and you breeze through, gradually picking up speed as adrenaline pumps through you. You have no plan, no idea what you will do once you reach the address. All you know is that you have to get there as [[fast as possible.]] You bang on the door, not caring if the commotion attracts onlookers. It takes a while for the (link-reveal: "man to come to the door.")[ He is pale, spidery veins crawling up and down the sides of his cheeks. His tattered gray t-shirt spots mysterious stains down the front. He is wearing a scowl on his face, accentuating the wrinkles on both sides of his mouth.] A beer bottle is clutched tightly in his left hand. He takes a swig of it.
"Who the hell are you?" he demands.
[[say her name]]
[[say the doctor's name]]
Could the speeder be the robber, fleeing from scene of crime?
You turn on your siren and speed after the car, quickly catching up to them a few minutes later. "Pull over to the side of the road please," you shout through your megaphone. The car slows down, then stops.
You get out of your car and walk to the side of drivers side door. The driver has already rolled down the window. You look inside and see a short woman. Not what you were [[expecting.]]
Finally, a chance to show off what you got!
You race to the scene, eager to arrive before the action begins, but once you get there, your face falls. On the side of the road in front of the house, a man sits, handcuffs around his wrists. You see the responding officer talking to an old couple.
Frustrated, you park your car on the street and get out. As you walk towards the officer, more squad cars roll up next to yours. The officer spots you and [[waves you closer]].
This really is the last kind of call you want to be taking right now, but you muster up your remaining energy and radio in. Who knows, maybe this could be your moment. Your blaze of glory.
When you pull in front of the address though, you notice something is off. The front door of the house is slightly ajar, and you can hear loud thuds coming from within. You quickly pull out your gun from your holster and kiss the handle. [[It's your time to shine.]]
Quickly, you wipe your prints off the [[gun]] and place it in the man's hand. There. Looks like she stabbed him and he shot her. You bolt for your car and climb back in just as backup pulls into the street. You grab your old gun from the passenger compartment and climb back out. As you make your way [[back to the house]], another squad car pulls up.
The scene plays before you. Blurry lights, muffled voices. A young woman lies in front of you. Someone hands you a scalpel though you are not quite sure you remember how to use it. Matter of fact, you are not quite sure where--oh surgery. Yes. Spinal surgery. You've done this a thousand times over.
You take the scapel and get to work. Your senses are not quite alert but no matter, your muscle memory is taking over. Until not. Blood. Beeping. People moving around you. More blood. Faster beeping. Your hands are working at something but its not enough. [[Flatline.->A man]] Sunken eyes, hollow cheeks. So pale you can trace the spidery veins crawling just below the surface of your skin. You slap your face once, twice, but nothing brings color to your [[cheeks|A man]].The knot in your stomach re-tightens and you begin to feel sweat beading behind your neck.
Who was the cirulating nurse that day? Panicking, you hurry to your office and dig through your surgical reports. Sunday, 8:07 pm. You scan the names of the surgical team. Circulating nurse. A wave of nausea rolls through you. It is her. She knows. Any day she could tell someone. Anyone. Everyone. You have to get ahead of this. Put it all behind you.
[[confess to the medical director->confess]]
[[threaten the nurse->blackmail]]You trudge inside, the warmth from the radiator enveloping you instantly. You strip off your muddy clothes and step into the shower. The water hurts, and the scraps on your face and palms redden under the stream.
You clench your hands into a fist, nails digging into the cuts on your palms, wounds breaking out blood.
[[Tomorrow]], you will find out what happened. And how it happened. And who did it. The hospital waiting room is crowded. You weave through runny nose kids, anxious mothers, and restless patients to reach the reception desk.
The receptionist asks who you are looking for. You respond with //her// name. As the receptionist types the name into the database, the smile drops from her face.
"I'm so sorry," she begins. You quickly stop her. You don't need pity, you need [[answers]].
The receptionist reads the file to you.
"Blood loss on the table. There was nothing the doctor could do. I'm so sorry, with a procedure like this, there is always a risk." Risk? Wasn't it about as risky as pulling a tooth? The receptionist sighs and shakes her head.
"The surgeon loves to say that about pretty much any non-high risk surgery he's performing. With experience comes ego. Normally, it's harmless, but this is an abnormal situation."
Hearing that sets off (link-reveal: "something in you.")[ Abnormal? What's the abnormality? That your--//she// died during a standard procedure? That when you found out, you were told not to show up at the hospital?] You demand to speak to the doctor right away, but the receptionist refuses. His shift finished hours ago.
You are about to begin (cycling-link: "shouting", "screaming", "smashing things"). But then, out of the corner of your eye, you see a nurse gesturing at you.
[[talk to her->talk to them]]
[[ignore]]As you walk towards the nurse, she turns and starts down the hallway. Confused, you follow behind as she leads you into an office. Once you step in, she closes the door behind you and gestures for you to have a seat.
As soon as you sit down, she begins talking. She tells you everything. (click-replace: "everything.")[everything from the beginning. About her assignment to the surgery. A spinal decompression. About finding out she would be working with a renowed surgeon. Her excitement and enthusiasm. About how she inspected the surgical room much earlier than necessary, just to make sure everything was in place.
When the time came, she was ready. She felt as prepared as she could ever be. But when the doctor walked in, she knew something was off. A slight wobble in his knees. A too long hesitation whenever he was addressed. The tremor in his hands when she handed him a scalpel. The surgery was done by the book. The procedure was solid, until a slip of the hand, a quiver of a pinky, opened a vessel that was meant to be sealed. Then blood. Beeping. And finally, flatline]
You are speechless by the time she finishes, too stunned to move, react, or emote. The nurse slips you a piece of paper before standing to leave. On it is an address and a doctor's name.
"Find some closure," she says, and exits the room.
[[go to address]]
You doubt they're waving at you so you turn back to the receptionist, ready to give her another round. Someone grabs your wrist and slips you a [[piece of paper]] in your hand. Before you can ask what the hell they think they're doing, they've already disappeared from sight. Her name rolls off your tongue before you can catch yourself. A look of horror flickers across the man's face, but then, his eyes narrow and he quickly shakes his head.
"I don't know anyone by that name," he responds. "You must have gotten the wrong address."
[[say the doctor's name]]
[[threaten him]] You grab the piece of paper from your pocket and read the name aloud. The man recoils in recognition. He is silent.
[[threaten him]]
[[say her name]] The man's reaction confirms your suspicions. He was responsible for her death. Though you aren't exactly sure how he killed her, you know deep in your bones that he did. Before you know it, you are spitting out accusations left and right.
Anger flashes across his face and he steps towards you, face inches from yours, beer bottle pointed towards you.
"Who the hell. Do you think you are."
The sight of his ugly, pale face fills you with violence. You snatch the beer bottle from his hand and [[raise it above his head.]]
The man hits the floor with a thud as the glass shatters on his skull. Blood drips down the sides of his face. You stare at the broken shard of glass in your hand, then at the man curled up on the floor.
You walk towards his body and crouch above him. You can clearly make out the jugular vein protruding from the side of his neck. It would be so easy to [[just...]]
You pry open a bottle of beer and down it in one swig. Warmth spreads through you almost instantly, and you slump onto the floor against the refridgerator door. This is who you are now. You might as well embrace it. You wrench open two more, finishing them smoothly. You really are quite warm.
You grab the rest of the pack and trudge into the living room. Slumping down on the sofa, you turn on the tv and grab a fourth. The channel is showing the local news.
You don't realize you've zoned out until you hear a loud knocking on the front door. The noise shakes through your bones, and you immediately feel a piercing pain through your skull. The noise is aggravating, but you really cannot be bothered to move.
[[ignore the noise]]
[[open the door]]
You eventually light the cigarette despite your shaky hands, but inhaling is difficult when you're having a panic attack. The cigarette drops from your hand, burning a small scab into your wooden floor.
[[take pills]]
[[drink]]You rummage through the medicine cabinet, looking for anything strong enough to knock you out, but all you can find are over the counter pain relievers. Aren't you a doctor? Don't you have anything better?
You finally dig out a bottle of Zolpidem buried in your drawer. You pry open the bottle, and frantically shake out...nothing. Vaguely, you remember taking the last two pills when you were weak with nausea yesterday.
[[drink]]
[[smoke]]You lay on the couch, hoping and praying that whoever is knocking will eventually tire and go away. Or, that the alcohol will knock you out before the noise becomes unbearable. You're beginning to feel drowsy anyway. You grab the sixth and last bottle.
Before you can open it though, the knocking turns to (cycling-link: "banging", "pounding", "slamming"). The sound of bone clashing against wood is enough to make you flinch, and you shakily push yourself up and [[wobble to the door->open the door]].
The woman standing behind the door is not who you expected. She is short, and the wild look in her eye destabilizes you. You take a swig of your beer and glare down at her.
"Who the hell are you?" you demand. The woman pauses before responding.
It takes you a second to register the name. No. no no. You stumble, before catching yourself. (cycling-link: "No one is supposed to know.", "How the hell does she know?") That is all behind you. In the past.
"I don't know anyone by that name," you respond, hoping she didn't catch your hesitation. "You must have the wrong address."
The woman grabs a piece of paper from her pocket and unfolds it. She reads aloud what is written. Your name.
You shrink back, [[momentarily stunned->shrink back]]. You feel the flesh on his neck burst as you jab the broken glass into his vein. Blood spurts in all directions. A beat, then a voice rings out from behind you, demanding you to drop your weapon. Who called the [[police?]]
You climb into your car and pull out your [[new piece]], carefully wiping away the droplets of rain that had fallen on the handle. Hopefully, something crazy will happen on your shift tomorrow. Then you can put this baby to the test.
You place the gun back into your holster and drive home, rain smattering across your windshield. (link-reveal: "An image forms in your head.")[ //The perpetrator, running, drenched in rain. You, hot on their heels. You chase them into a narrow alleyway, one where you know there a dead end is up ahead. They notice the wall and you think you've got them until they turn around, pointing something at you. You duck as they fire a shot, bullet flying right over your head. Before they can react, you reach for your gun and fire two to their [[center]].//]
Your shift has been disappointingly slow. A few speed limit offenses, some parking violations, nothing serious. Nothing career changing.
Your car has been parked on an empty back-road for the last hour. Not a single car has passed you since then. You're pretty disappointed you haven't had the opportunity to test out your new firearm yet, but there's always tomorrow. Plus, you still have half your shift left to go.
You recline your seat, legs up on the dashboard ready to take a short nap. You are just about to close your eyes when you notice a car fly past you. You look down at your speedometer. 85 mph. Isn't the speed limit 50?
Just as you're about to follow the car, you hear a call over the radio. Backup on a potential burglary.
[[follow the speeder]]
[[answer the radio]]
Turns out, the burglar was dumb as nails. Instead of running away when he heard sirens, he hid inside a cabinet.
"No noticeable exit, we figured he might still be inside," the officer was explaining to you. "We found him in no time at all." You nod in congratulations, [[zoning out]] as the officer recounted the scene.
The old couple will not stop talking. You're not sure how long you've been standing here for, only that the evening has basically turned to night and the forensic team has just about finished their sweep.
You look around, spotting a junior officer standing guard around the scene. You yell his name and he jumps a little, before scurrying over. You hand him the notebook and nod towards the couple.
"Finish this up will you?" You[[ hurry to your car->hurrying to your car]] before he can ask you any questions.
You climb into your car and drive away from the scene, dejected and annoyed. All that hassle for nothing. You're not even sure you want something exciting to happen during the remainder of your shift anymore. All you want to do is take a nap.
You park your car on the corner of an intersection and recline your seat again. Only two more hours on shift to go.
As soon as you kick your feet on the dashboard though, dispatch radios in a noise disturbance. You look at the map. Only a couple miles from where you are.
[[check it out]]
You quickly make your way to the front door and peer inside. [[A woman]] is crouched over a man, a broken bottle of beer clutched tightly in her hand. The man on the floor is clutching his neck as blood spurts in all directions. Excitement and adrenaline pump through you.
You point your gun at the woman's back. "Police! Drop the bottle!"
The woman slowly stands and turns around, glass still in her hand. You repeat your demand. The woman stares at you blankly, then looks at the bottle in her hand. You really don't have the [[patience for this->shoot her]].
Now's the time as any to test your new sidearm. You fire two shots to her centre and she falls to the floor, clutching her stomach. Sweet! You pose with the barrel near your mouth and puff away imaginary smoke. God, this gun makes you feel so powerful.
The metallic smell of blood draws you back to the scene. What a mess. As you stand there staring at the dead bodies, you hear sirens in the distance. Backup. Did you call for backup?
Two dead bodies and an officer with a gun. This doesn't look good for you. Your career is supposed to take off, not decline.
[[stage the scene]]
[[take the blame]]You're standing above the bodies when backup arrives, your gun still clutched in your hands. Maybe the squad will have your back. You've known of officers covering things up before.
The officer who arrives on the scene notices you right away. He walks slowly towards you, a confused expression on his face.
"What happened here?" he asks. You glance at him, then sigh. Here comes your career [[endgame]].
Holy mother of God. Jesus Christ. You just killed someone. Murder. You murdered someone. This is not what you set out to do today. This is not what she would have wanted for you. How did you get here? What have you done? You're going to jail for sure, and after that, to hell. You're never going to see her again, [[never--]]
The woman takes your silence as an invitation.
"You're a murderer. A slaughterer. You killed someone who was trusting you to save them. What were you on? Coke? Heroin? Ecstasy? Or was it alcohol, liquid courage? What happened? You get dumped? Cheated on? Your dad left you 30 years ago and you've never recovered?"
You are seething by the time she finishes. How dare she make such outlandish, ignorant claims! You take a step towards her, face inches from hers.
[["Who the hell. Do you think you are."]]
You feel the blow before you can process what is happening. A blur of movement, then dizziness. You crash to floor, pain ringing into your skull. Broken glass pierces your skin, and when you touch your hand to your temple, your [[fingers come away bloody.]]
The broken bottle pierces through your flesh. Ironic, you think to yourself, but you have no idea why it is. You clutch your neck, but in vain. Blood sprays between your fingers.
Another voice rings out somewhere in the distant. Maybe that's promising, maybe it isn't. You have no idea. All you want is some [[peace and quiet]]. Monday, 9:42 pm. Clear skies in the town of Anywhere, Nowhere.
A police officer drives back to the station, humming a tune on the radio. Tonight, he will finish some paperwork before heading home, cracking open a cold bottle of beer, and watching a couple episodes of Narcos on TV, while polishing his gun. Tomorrow, he will finally get approval for use on-duty.
Two dead bodies, a male and a female, are labeled, bagged, and transported by the Anywhere Forensic Team back to the local morgue to undergo autospy. The autopsy will reveal that the man died of blood loss from a deep puncture wound to his neck, severing his jugular vein and carotid artery. The autopsy will also reveal a 0.12 blood alcohol concentration in the man. The woman died from multiple organ failure from two the gunshot wounds in her abdomen, damaging her both her small intensines and liver. The autopsy will also reveal that her heart was under significant strain at the time of death.
[[the end->day 1]]Haha. You once told her you would die for her, but you didn't mean after she was dead.
Are you even the hero in this story? She died at the hands of a man, who died at your hands. And now you're dying, at the hands of some trigger-happy police officer. Is anyone the [[winner->nothing.]] here?
Sunday night, 11:36 pm. In the small town of Anywhere, Nowhere, another storm is passing through. Rain pours down, making it difficult to see farther than 10 feet away.
[[A man]] staggers out of the local hospital with a hand over his mouth. (live: 2s)
[(t8n: "dissolve")(show: ?man1)]|man1)[He fumbles with his phone to type something, before keeling over and vomiting on the side of the road. The man then collapses onto the curb sobbing, his head in his hands. Soon after, a black car rolls in front of him. The man climbs into the backseat, and the car drives away.]
At the same time, [[another man]] stands under the awning of the local police station chatting to a friend. (live: 6s)[(t8n: "dissolve")(show: ?man2)]|man2)[At one point during the conversation, the man takes out a gun and turns it from side to side, testing the grip in his hand and pretending to aim at his friend. His friend laughs and puts up his hands in mock surrender before also taking the gun and examining it, nodding in approval before passing the gun back to the man. The man tucks away the gun, opens an umbrella, and fist-bumps his friend before dashing towards his car.]
While this is happening, [[a woman]] at a bar receives a phone call from an unknown number. (live: 12s)[(t8n: "dissolve")(show: ?woman)]|woman)[A beat after she answers the phone, tears begin to roll down her cheeks. She begins shouting into the phone, sobbing and yelling repeatedly and pounding her fists into the bar table. The bartender attempts to calm her down as two security guards walk towards her, but she rushes out of the bar before they can reach her.] To your disbelief, no one bats an eye at you when you walk through the door. //Okay,// you think, //at least accusations haven't spread very far, if there are any to begin with//.
As the day goes by, the knot in the pit of your stomach begins to loosen. No whispers or glaring. No passive aggressive comments or aggresive threats. Towards the end of your shift, when no summon from the medical director comes, you begin to think the [[past is behind you.]]
As you begin to wrap up your shift, a nurse suddenly brushes past you hurriedly, almost knocking you over. You turn around to tell her off and immediately notice the expression in her eyes. (cycling-link: "Accusing.", "Scrutinizing.", "Suspecting.") You catch the name on her badge before she [[scurries away]].
No answer. You wait a beat, then knock again. Still, no response.
Relief washes over you. The fact that he isn't here right now must be a sign. You tried, and that's all that matters. But there is still the issue of the nurse.
[[threaten the nurse->blackmail]]
On the paper reads two things. The name of a doctor, and an address. Under any other circumstances, you would have disregarded the paper as some prank, the nurse as some creep. But today, you know exactly what they're nudging you to do. You have enough rage in you to power a small city, but you are also so (cycling-link: "tired", "drained", "exhausted"). You almost want to crawl back into bed and just cry. At least that would be easier.
[[go to address]]
[[go home]] You approach the nurse, sinking slowly into the chair in front of hers.
"Do you have something you want to say to me?" you ask.
"I think you know what I'm going to say," she replies.
You scoot your chair closer to hers and rest your elbows on your knees, staring straight into her eyes.
"I don't think you're going to say anything to anyone," you begin. (live: 4s)
[(t8n: "dissolve")(show: ?sentence1)]|sentence1)["I know this because this your first job out of nursing school, and you've only been here a few months."]
(live: 6s)[(t8n: "dissolve")(show: ?sentence2)]|sentence2)["I know that with your lack of experience at this time, it may be very difficult for you to find another job if you lose this one."]
(live: 8s)[(t8n: "dissolve")(show: ?sentence3)]|sentence3)["I know you won't say anything, because I can take this job from you quicker than you can prove my guilt. [[I've been here a long time."->blackmail]]]
You raise your arms to shield your face, but dizziness strikes you as soon as you attempt to move. You try (cycling-link: "crying", "screaming","screeching") for help, but when you speak, nothing comes out. The ringing in your ears is deafening.
The broken bottle in her hand [[sways above you.->broken glass.]]
You try to push yourself off the floor, but your vision is blurring fast. You see a figure walk towards you, clutching something in their hand. As they [[kneel over you]], you realize they're holding broken glass. You were a good man once upon a time. That much must be true. For the one life you took, you saved a lot in the process. That must account for something.
Coldness sweeps through you, and you slowly close your eyes. Something must account for something.
For anything.
Maybe [[nothing.]]
The voice on the phone, her little brother, had made it very clear. You were not to show up at the hospital, under any circumstance. You weren't even supposed to know right away. He was risking his safety calling you right now. Do not. Even [[think about it.->a woman]]You reach the house in almost no time at all, driving slowly in front to peer through the windows. The house is dark except for one room, and you can clearly make out the glow of a tv screen reflecting through the glass. [[A man is inside,]] lounging on the sofa. You step out of your car and slowly make your way to the window to get a better look. As you get closer, you notice an pack of beer next to the sofa. Empty. Finished. The sight of it fills you with rage. Without a second thought, you march towards the [[front door.]]
You stand and slowly wipe the blood from your face before turning around. The sight of the officer's face [[unnerves you]].
The officer repeats his demand, but you are having trouble processing language. You flex your hands, the feeling of [[flesh breaking]] tingling through your fingers. Two loud bangs ring through the air. You feel a sharpness in your stomach. A cramp? You put your hand on your midriff. Blood. You look down at your torso.
The pain burns through you all at once, [[knocking you to the ground.]]
You won this gun at a gun auction this past weekend and it had only just arrived yesterday. You haven't gotten approval for on-duty use yet, but you don't really care. Anyways, who ever waits for approval [[these days->another man]]?You're adrenaline is pumping by the time you get home, and you cannot stop grinning. You can see it now, your career is entering its (link-reveal: "turning point.")[ A raise. A promotion. Recognition from the sergeant, lieutenant, then captain. A medal of honor.]
[[Tomorrow->tomorrow2]] is the first day of a new you. Better re-polish the gun, you think to yourself as you make your way through the house. Have it looking spick-and-span. "...and can you take this couple's statement while I take the perp back to the station?" You snap out of your daze, right as the officer poses the question. He's making you do his busy work?
Before you can protest, the officer slaps you on the back and saunters towards the burglar sitting on the curb, grabbing his arm and leading him to a car.
You grind your teeth together and glare at the officer's retreating form. That should've been you. Catching the criminal. (link-reveal: "Saving the day.")[ Given, you doubt anyone was in any real trouble in this scenario, but still.] You turn back to the old couple who are looking at you expectantly. You sigh and begin taking their [[statement.->procedure.]] Good thing this gun hadn't been registered to you yet. You'll steal it back from the evidence locker once this is all [[wrapped up->stage the scene]].
You walk to the door and peer through, feigning surprise in your voice as you call to the other officer. "We got a real mess in here!"
Police procedure begins. More cops arrive and forensics swarm into the house, snapping photos, bagging evidence. You walk through the door and look around the room.
An empty pack of beer sits next to the couch. You make your way into the bathroom and notice that the medicine cabinet had been ransacked. In the bedroom, a drawer stood open. An empty bottle of Zolpidem [[lies on the floor->lays on the floor]].
Damn. This guy sure had issues. Drug and alcohol issues. Then it clicks. That's a perfect explanation for why he shot the woman. He was out of his mind.
You grab the empty bottle of Zolpidem and the empty pack of beer and make your way back to the entrance. Another officer notices them in your hands.
"The guy was a maniac," you respond when he points at the bottle and pack. "He must of been on everything known to man. Could've been why he shot her." The officer looks left and right, then [[beckons you closer]].
"You know, I don't wanna sound crazy, but I don't know that he was the one that shot her," he says to you. Not what you want to hear. Your heart begins to race, but you stay silent.
"Look at the way she's positioned," he continues. "She's not really facing him so how could he have aimed a bullet at her? Also, the dead guy is a doctor. I found his medical license. Not to say doctor's can't be killers, but it is quite rare."
Yeah no. This is not good for you at all. Something's gotta give.
[[tell the truth->different approach]]
[[continue with your lie]]
"It could have been in self-defense," you respond, deliberately ignoring his point about the positioning. "She stabbed him first, and then he shot him. Besides, who else could it be?" you ask, hoping he doesn't have an answer.
"Some other guys are questioning witnesses right now," he replies. "Let's go see what they got. Maybe they'll know something."
Shit. Witnesses. How the hell did you forget about witnesses?
[[tell the truth->different approach]]
You (link-reveal: "recount the scene.")[ A noise complaint call from dispatch, which you responded to. You get here and hear thuds and shrieks from inside the house, which you proceed to check out. You walk through the door and see the woman crouched over the man, who's neck is spurting out blood. He's dying fast, perhaps only a couple minutes left. You turn your attention to the woman.
Though you've shouted at her to drop her weapon, she does not respond. She raises the hand with the bottle, at which point you shoot her--two in the stomach.]
The officers is staring at you. "Not exactly protocol but I had to be safe," you explain, hoping he understands. He nods, not exactly convinced.
You really can't afford to lose your badge and weapon. Plus, you just got this gun! You try a [[different approach]]."Look man, truth is, I just bought this gun and I wanted to test it out, you know? And not on like rabbits or at the shooting range or whatever, but in a real, dangerous scenario. Also, the woman literally killed a man! She could've have hurt me bad!"
The officer looks at you.
(live: 3s)[(t8n: "dissolve")(show: ?response)]|response)["Well shit, why didn't you say so sooner?" He laughs and punches you in the arm. "We've all been here before. [[Don't even worry about it]]."]
Relief washes over you. Thank God you chose the right career.
You return to the procedure, bagging all the evidence alongside forensics, emphasizing the importance of the pill bottle and beers bottles. After all, you are painting the picture of a lunatic doctor, driven mad by stress and pressure.
The officer you confessed to offers to corroborate your story. You thank him and turn to leave, but he grabs your arm before you can walk. You brace yourself, expecting him to rescind his offer, or demand something from [[you.]]
"Where did you get your gun by the way?"
You smile. This really was a great way to [[end your night->nothing.]]."License and registration please," you say. The woman pulls out the documents, and as she hands them to you, you notice the cuts and bruises on her hands.
Rough time. You take pity on her. "I'll let you off with a warning this time" you say. "Drive slower. Go home directly." You hand her back the documents.
As you get back in your car, you hear the radio once again, calling for backup.
[[answer the radio]]
(if:(history: where its name contains "follow the speeder")'s length is 1)[Wait. Doesn't she look a little familiar? You try to recall why, [[but can't seem to.->It's your time to shine.]]]
(else: )[Shorter than you expected, with a wild look in her eyes. What has gotten into [[her->It's your time to shine.]]?](if:(history: where its name contains "take back road")'s length is 1)[Wait. Isn't that the officer that pulled you over [[earlier?->police?]]]
(else: )[Why does he look so excited? You've never seen a cop smile as they confront a perpetrator. That's never even happened in [[TV->police?]]]The officer asks for your license and registration, which you hand over readily. As you pass them towards him, you catch a strange (link-reveal: "expression on his face.") [ Sympathy? Compassion? You didn't know that cops had it in them to express those emotions.]
The officer decides lets you off with a warning. Wow. Normally, you'd be pretty annoyed to receive pity from a cop, but today, it's a blessing.
He walks back to his car and you [[drive away.->fast as possible.]]