The Crime - Chapter One

"Take me home, away from this place," she whispered to me, as i whipped the tears from her cheek and gazed into her pale green eyes. The bruises fresh on her rosy skin made my legs shake even though i seen it ever day at the department, but being a detective in New York, anything could happen and anything could make you snap. No matter how weak or senseless. No matter if blood was shed or a victim was present. Even if there wasn't a body bag, even if a riffle wasn't fired. Even if an arrest wasn't made, it made someone, somewhere cry.

Was that the hardest part? I thought to myself as I looked at her expression of resistance, not only on her face, but her body look disfigured even though it was perfectly intact. I could feel the pain. It pulsed through me, made me weak. Everyone glared at me, wondering what decion I would make. Taking her away from the scene of the crime, I draped her naked, bruised body with a grey itchy blanket. I knew it would bring no comfort, but this is what the government issued us, and it was all i had to cover her body, that I knew she would appreciate. Instantly, I felt her jolt as soon as I touched her shoulder. Trying to persuade a victim that the crime that had been committed was over, is impossible. I knew this discomforting feeling inside of her would forever last. Even if it would be solved. It would never wash the blood off her skin, the cuts will leave hideous scars, her nails will grow back bruised.

But all I could do was make a faulty promise under false pretenses, "We'll get who ever did this to you...you have my word on that."

Maybe I was telling the truth. Maybe I really had the guts to peruse a raging rapist on the loose. In the jungle of light. My home. New York City. The Capital of misfits and drunken rage. Could I really do this?