I have a man on the table, John Doe Pedestrian, a victim from a hit-and-run. He was losing a lot of blood from the cut he had in his abdominal. He was in his sixties, lying on the on the table with his saggy and toneless muscle.
After a 45 minutes of saving, we managed to get the man back. (Pheeeeewwww)
I came out from the E.R. with my bloody gown and gloves. I can feel the exhaustion. At last, I get to rest for a minute and finish up the lunch that was leftover. When I about to step into the elevator, someone called out my name. I could sense trouble. I turned over and saw a man and a woman approaching. I was attracted by his charming and handsome face even though maturity has carved deeply sober into it. The suit he was wearing was dated and dull-looking but it revealed his tone and firm body perfectly. His eyebrow was rather thick but it had the perfect shape. I guess he was in his mid forties, the threads of silver threads can be seen is his side burn. I couldn't stop staring at his soft grey eyes, as if they were unreadable.
The woman was in a severe blue suit as if she was working in the military. She was fierce looking with a laser gaze hazel eyes. I dare not even look at her for more than 5 seconds. My vision was then transfered back to him.
Detective Thomas Moore, this was how he referred himself with his gentle yet sexy voice. The solemn looking woman was Detective Rizzoli. They were from the homicide unit.
I still couldn't move my gaze away from him.
Homicide? It warned me that troubles were to come.
I cancelled my next appoinment and brought them to my room. They were here for Andrew Capra. They wanted to know what happened to me in Savannah. Something I wouldn't want anyone to bring it up. Something I wouldn't want to talk about. He brought up the question with the most delicacy possible that he could. I was pleased in a way, but terrified in another. They were to bring up everything again. It took me forever to forget about this.
In this 2 years, I'm living with fear. I spent most of my time in the ER and I wished to feel safe at home. I want peace and I don't care about what is happening out there. What happened to me 2 years ago was the last thing I wanted to know and hear of.
I was trembling.I'm scared. He knew that. It was too obvious.
When he showed me the photos of the 2 victims, his fingers brushed mine and I knew he could feel the fear that I had. As a detective, he was observant. I could see that when he stepped into my room. The way he scanned my room with his gaze. I looked at him and then I only noticed that he was studying me. Trying to find the inner part of mine, try to get to know me better. I tried to cover my fear, but I couldn't. I didn't want to show him the weakest part of mine.
He kept quiet and been gentle all the time. I felt no threatened in the whole conversation with him. It really calmed me down.
But when Detective Rizzoli spoke. She did not make any effort to soften her voice. All she wanted was answers and not to waste any time. Her questions were like millions of needles poking through my heart. I can feel the pain instantly. Questions by Questions like tons of bullets shooting through my heart again. Her questions became more and more intimate. I hate that !
Dear God, Please STOP !! Stop all the questions.
He stopped her, but she insisted. I'm pleased that he helped out. He could read me from my face, knowing that I felt uncomfortable and scared. He is such a caring guy. I'm starting to like him more.
Unlike her, the stone-hearted Rizzoli.
Catherine Cordell aka Sotong
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keke =D enjoy :)
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