BURIED

SEVEN

B E L L E

I was sitting on the couch, humming along to the blaring music and the pouring rain hitting the window, my fingers gently brushing over the surface of the small clay bird sculpture I was painting. Doctor Mikhail had advised me to do something I love to make myself feel better. It was therapeutic, so it became part of my nighttime routine. It was relaxing, the cold wind from the rain making my body weaker every second. I needed to sleep.

My phone rings; I reluctantly pause the music and crawl across the floor to answer it. Like, why would you be calling me this late!?

"Hello?" I say upon answering the call.

Except that this call was for work. "Lieutenant Gabin, there's an emergency..."

It is on the same street I live, Whitethorn.

I reach the building in less than six minutes. The scene is chaotic, with police cars lining the street and a few bystanders in their night dresses murmuring in confusion.

Go sleep, people, nothing to see here.

They are the same people you'll see on TV reporting police brutality, pieces of shit.

"Terrance! Jenna!" I call out. "You were called in as backups too?"

"We all live close to the crime scene, I guess," Terrance responds, still wearing his coat despite the rain having stopped.

"Belle!" Jenna screams, drawing attention from onlookers as she throws herself at me, giving me a tight hug. "How are you?"

"I'm good," I breathe, trying to find air while my lungs are being squeezed.

"How are you? You were unconscious the last time I saw you," Jenna reminds me.

"It's okay," I assure her. "You can stop now. We can't afford to lose the last remaining brain cells you have."

Jenna giggles, letting go, but there is a lot of concern on her face though she tries to hide it.

"I'm here if you need to talk," she whispers, elbowing me with a smirk.

"I can't believe they called us in this late!" Jenna complains. "It's our day off."

"Stop complaining," Terrance orders.

Ignoring him, Jenna continues, her voice even louder. "And for a simple homicide, just because it happens to be in our precinct."

"Nobody knows the area better than we do though," I add. "Stop yapping"

"Whatever, I'm just stating facts," Jenna remarks.

"Nobody asked though," I say.

"If we're lucky, we might have a chance in capturing the culprit," Terrance interjects.
Wiping his face with a pocket towel, his blonde hair was dripping with water, it made him look different.

"I know, shut up," Jenna mumbles. "I just want to sleep, man."

"I was only told there was a murder, and that the culprit escaped," I say, drawing my scarf around my neck.