The smell of citrusy perfume is all I can tell you about my surroundings right now. The next thing that I can feel is a hand on my shoulder and somebody asking me if I’m okay and helping me get up. As she’s introducing herself, I notice the coffee stain on her dark blue uniform. Her voice is probably one of the calmest I have ever heard. She then takes my hand and leads me to the ambulance parked just by the entrance to the building.
As I’m wrapped in the blanket they gave me, it hits me. Travis is gone. The guy who made me the happiest person ever is gone. I’ll never feel his arms around me again, never hear his laugh or see his smile. I can feel my eyes start to water and I start shaking even more than I did before. Just focus on your surroundings. That’s what Travis used to say when I got anxious. Okay, I’m focusing on it then. There’s a lot of policemen, all of them have the same dark blue uniforms. There’s also a guy in yellow walking out of the building, looking lost and dazed. Everything is very loud; many people are shouting and there is a group of curious people forming behind the railings that the police have put up before.
I thought I was ready for this, but it still feels like a knife to the chest when I see three people pushing a stretcher. The figure on it is covered with a black, canvas-like blanket. Emotions flood me all at once: anger, sadness, and even betrayal. My head spins, and I barely register someone running toward me, shouting, "Somebody catch her—she’s going to faint!” And then everything fades to black.
Just like every day, I woke up at 5. a.m. sharp. I made a cup of coffee – black – and started doing my paperwork. At about 6:30 a.m. I went for a short walk to refresh and wake up my mind and then I got ready for work. I neither like nor dislike my job, l just have to work there. It was interesting for about 3 months, and then I got bored of it. Now it just brings me money, nothing more nothing less. I arrive at my office at exactly 7.00 a.m. every day, and I'm usually the first one there. That was the case today as well. I got another cup of black coffee, and just as I was about to start doing more paperwork I got atext message.
I threw the coffee away, even though I knew I was going to regret it later, you should never throw a cup of good coffee away, but I was in a hurry. When I got to the apartment building I first noticed a small, yellow car not parked on a parking spot, but rather clumsily parked next to the apartment building, which just reeked of happiness and kindness, but I didn't really have the time to look around, so I went inside. I didn't even think about taking the elevator, since it's much faster if I just climb the stairs, but even if I wanted to, it was closed off for some reason. So here I am, just casually climbing the stairs while a corpse is waiting for me just a floor above, rethinking everything that happened on the way, wondering if I missed a crucial detail, a piece of evidence in my rush.
When I finally get to the 7th floor I immediately know I'm in the right place because of two buff policemen standing in front of the door on the left and the sounds of shouting coming from behind the door. I pull out my badge and don't even bother speaking to the two guys on the doorstep as I make my way inside. I’m welcomed by two other police officers standing in a dull living room. One of them is eating a sandwich. A sandwich. The nerve. There is a dead body lying somewhere in the apartment and so every single piece of evidence is important, but here he is eating a sandwich. Before I can get even move irritated by watching crumbs and spit fly out of his mouth and tamper with any existing evidence, I go to the door I hear even more sounds from. When l open the door l first see a small woman lying on the ground, with a medic hunched over her checking her vitals. At first l'm a bit confused, because l didn't hear anything about a dead woman, but then I hear raspy breathing and see her chest moving up and down, so l shift my focus to another body lying on the ground next to her.
Now I can obviously tell that this guy is dead and I can quickly rule out that his cause of death was natural, based on all the blood and a dozen of medium-sized cuts all over his body. He was definitely a victim of foul play and I realize we are dealing with a serious case of a homicide. When I look around I see way more people than there are supposed to be in a small room with a dead body, l start yelling directions and soon everyone but the main inspector is gone. "Hello, Mr. Sherry," he greets me before continuing. "This here is Mr. Travis Alexander, 30 years old, male. This here …” he points to the woman lying besides him, "is Miss Jannette, who made the 911 call but passed out right after that.”
I open up my laptop to check my email. The sales are coming up and I've been thinking of buying new boots for myself. But instead of spam promotion messages my screen lights with an email, its title being »internal investigation interview«. My blood freezes in me for a moment. I have been convincing myself that the victim of murder down the street couldnt be my ex boyfriend who lived in the same building. I thought it was just my paranoia... But can it actually be true?
The email seems to be very formal and is inviting me to have a conversation with the detective that investigates the case of my ex lover's death. The boy I've spent a good amount of my past with is now gone. Forever. I tend to get attached easily and, even though I think he had a new girlfriend now, I never saw us going down completely different paths in life. We lived close to each other, had mutual friends, and he was the person I knew I could call if in serious trouble.
Now the email confirms he is the person that was brutally murdered in the apartment building on the next block. He felt the pain no human ever should, his right to life was taken by a cruel murderer and I want to know who the killer is. I want to help the truth come to light, so the least I can do is visit the detective.
I reply to his message, then close my laptop and turn on the music. As I am staring at my bathroom mirror and brushing my teeth, I feel exhausted, my usually very loud thoughts in my head have gotten quiet. I think it’s the shock. Normally, when I feel emotionally unsettled, I create a strict routine, so that I don’t have time to think and analyse. It’s exactly what I decide to do now as I am watching tears mixed with toothpaste in my bathroom sink. I’ll go to bed as fast as possible and tomorrow morning start with work as early as possible.
A couple days go by. I’ve just gotten home. My plan of escaping my thoughts has been only partly successful. For the past three days I have been working for 12 hours, came home to eat and cry, and then went to sleep. I am way calmer than I expected myself to be when I got the news. I feel tired after a tough day, my back hurts and all the pain of losing someone I loved so dearly still hasn't kicked in completely. I do cry, but more in the way children do when their parents leave for a work trip and they have to stay with the nanny. Something inside me just believes that he still lives in his apartment, goes to his stupid gym, then eats four pockets of ground beef.. And now he was forced to leave the life he was so busy creating. I was a part of that life as well. I sit down on my bedroom floor, put woolen socks on my swollen feet and think about grief, how his mother must feel, his father, Josh and his current girlfriend – she must have loved him too. The weather outside isn’t helping me either, sunny hot afternoons never pair the best with sad thoughts. I am waiting for my noodles to be done and grate some cheese for the grilled cheese sandwich. Tomorrow I have the interview with the inspector. I don’t feel nervous, I just want to help with the investigation.
Back Next chapter