Pain. Blow after blow, knocking me into a deep trance. How did it get this way?
It all started 3 weeks ago. I had just found out my best friend had been thwarted. I raced to the scene, until I saw her icy-cold body lying there. On the scene, paramedics walked away from her motionless body, beads of sweat covering their foreheads like spread. Their shirts were covered in red, crimson blood. Maroon-covered tissues and defibrillators were left limply around her stiff body. I gave one of the EMT's a look that said it all. He removed his stained gloves, shook his head, and apologized.
Why is life like this? Ripping away everything close to you, taking anything that you hold dear to you, and abolishing it into thin air? Approaching her body, I took a shivered breath.
I observed the corpse, like it was a victim from one of my own cases. She was still wearing what she had during our last shift. I crouched down, hovering my hands over her head. I know I can't touch her. Her once perfect golden blonde hair was laced with gravel, making it look like a rustic, dirty brown shade. Bruises covered her cheeks and forehead, cuts slightly affecting her round beautiful face. She had a deep cut in her pink, pale lips, making the lower part of her face, plastered in a deep red. Her knuckles were rooted, showing that she put up a fight. She had always been feisty with me about her love for LA and my passion for Las Vegas history.
Shedding a tear, I wiped it off blatantly. Heading towards my Black Denali, I slam the door. Bowing my head in shame, I recount the last time I had spoken to her. How could I have let this happen?
Thanks for reading the prologue guys! What do you think? PS: Comment?