A/N: Hey, ChicagoPD fandom! This is the first of my CPD fanfics that I am publishing but I already have about 10 more or something. You are warned :) I joined the fandom about a week after the S2 finale (I wish I had discovered it earlier!) and I just LOVE this show. The spoilers on Twitter from Derek Haas and Sophia of course are killing me and I just can't wait until September 30th. Erin is my favorite and I find her character development so interesting and fascinating that I just can't help but write about her.
Please enjoy and feel free to leave a quick review :)
-Dana
Disclaimer: I don't own Chicago PD. Wish I did though.
It's too much
(Erin's P.O.V.)
I almost run down the stairs of that building but I have no clue where I am going. My head is spinning and I have to force myself not to stop and throw up. I just yelled at a kid and practically begged him to shoot me. What the hell is wrong with me?
I have seen the expression on Voight's face, seen the shock and concern in Antonio's eyes. I shake my head. I don't want to think about that right now, I just need to get out if here as fast as possible.
Suddenly, I find myself at the front door of the company, cops everywhere. Some of them give me strange looks as if I was a crazy person. For a second, I wonder how I must look right now but then I think that I really couldn't care less as I push through the crowd of people in front of the building. More police, press, onlookers.
I stumble to my car across the street, the one I usually share with Jay. I slam the door open and jump inside before putting my foot down and just taking off. Again, I have no real destination and just keep driving for a couple of minutes, trying to focus on the road and nothing else. I don't even realize that I am going way over the speed limit as I rush through Chicago. A single tear rolls down my cheek but I don't even bother to wipe it away.
I hold onto the steering wheel for dear life, trying to calm down a little. Everything is blurry but I don't slow down. That is until I take one conscious glance at my surroundings and I see that I am actually in the neighborhood I grew up in. I never come here anymore unless I have to because of my job. It's too full of bad memories.
But without a second thought I pull over at a small, lonely park at the end of the next block and get out of the car. I stumble through the rusty gate and lean against an old oak tree, trying to catch my breath. I close my eyes for a moment as I fight the urge to cry, to scream or to throw my car keys away in frustration. The pain is simply too much.
I can still see that gun pointed at me in front of my eyes and I wonder if I really wanted him to kill me for a moment. And the most terrifying thing is that I don't really know. All I know is that I just don't want to feel anymore. I don't want to deal with the unbearable pain and guilt that have been dragging me down ever since I saw her dead body on that beach.
At this point, I can't stop the tears from falling anymore and I slide down to sit on the cold, wet grass, wrapping my arms around my knees.
All of a sudden, a wave of nausea threatens to overwhelm me. I clutch my middle and lean over, emptying my stomach for the second time today. When it's finally over, I shakily get up again and take a look around. I don't want to think about today anymore, just like I want to forget the guilt over her murder. I have to push the pain away to survive. That seems like the only escape.
"Pull it together", I tell myself as I wrap my arms around my torso. It's only then that I notice I'm still wearing my vest. I shouldn't walk around like that in this part of the city. I know my streets. And the people here might know me.
So I release a deep breath and head back to my car, determined to stay calm and just get the rest of the day over with. I know I need to get back to the district and properly finish the paperwork before I have to answer any questions from Voight or Jay. I can't deal with their concern right now and just want them to back off. I just don't want them to get hurt, too.
I carelessly throw my vest in the backseat and walk over to the driver's side. As I get in the car, I shortly glance at the driving mirror. Staring back at me with tired eyes is a broken girl with a tear stained face and a frown on her lips that I can't bear to look at. So I quickly avert my eyes, wipe my face clean with a tissue and don't bother to redo the little make up I had on these days. I just don't care. I take another deep breath, start the engine and push my thoughts as far away as possible as I make my way back to the district.
A/N: Wow, this is probably the shortest one-shot I've ever written :O