The city never sleeps at night, and neither does Max. Sitting on her windowsill always calms her thoughts, especially while waiting for Nathan to come home. He always disturbs her thoughts. So loud, intense, and painful; like the city. Max wonders if she will ever get a full night of sleep.
She also wonders how she's found herself in this predicament, living at the Pacific Seattle Hotel with someone she isn't even sure she loves. He's always gone, leaving Max to her lonesome.
Sometimes, she's alone for hours on end, only leaving her with her thoughts. She always thinks back to when they were young and first falling in love; the quick loving glances in class, sneaking out of their dorms just to see each other, when they got their first apartment together. It all seemed so surreal, like somehow her past was fabricated.
But Nathan takes care of her. Clothes her, feeds her; lets her go visit her friend Kate at the church. That reminds Max she hasn't seen her devoted Christian friend in a long while, she makes a mental note to go see her tomorrow; if she's allowed.
Taking her chin off of her knee to peer down at the highway in front of their home, the small girl notices that there's not as much traffic as usual.
Where is he? Max ponders, it's 3:04am, he's usually home by 2. Of course on late nights like these he comes home under some kind of influence, which always worries the small girl. She wants him to be okay, but he's never okay. It's hard to watch him hurt himself, day after day; his perfect rich-boy facade crumbling on the marble foundation it was built on.
Hearing the door handle jiggle moves Max away from her view, carefully making her way to the doorway of their bedroom which is on the same hallway as the front door. She knows it's probably him, which makes her shy away; hiding most of her body behind the doorframe. It's taking him a bit longer than usual to get it open, he must be intoxicated again.
Max sees his slouched figure practically throw himself into their apartment, making her back away further. If she was quiet and obedient, it might not hurt so much this time. "Max!" The sudden scream of her names snaps her to attention, not sure if it's safe to move closer to him. Nathan pushes the door to, then drags his feet down the hallway. The girl stays in her spot, keeping her head down so she wouldn't have to look at him. She could tell it was going to be bad tonight.
"N-Nathan?" Max finally managed to speak out, clenching her fists. This was nothing new; it was a never-ending cycle. If he wasn't coming home completely wasted, he was tripped out on drugs. They'd fight. He'd apologize. And Max would fall into the trap yet again. It seemed that this is all Max had to look forward to anymore, life didn't seem to have much of the thrill that it did back when she was eighteen.
"Maybe you should lay down." Max spoke in a quiet voice. She avoided his drunken gaze; she knew all too well. "Don't tell me what to do!" His already bruised hand collides with the wall, causing a loud smack. Max shrieks quietly and burrows further into herself, crouching down; hugging her knees to her chest. "Oh get off the fucking floor!" His large hand wraps around her whole forearm, making it easy to pull her harshly his way.
"N-Nathan, I-I promise I didn't mean it!" The Prescott's anger only rises at her pleading tone, "Shut up! Or I'll give you something to cry about!" He pushes her back down, almost falling down himself from his tipsy state. "I'm going to watch TV, I expect dinner soon." Max is already in tears before he leaves, but now she's glad she made food hours ago knowing he would want something when he got home.
She sees him slouch into their torn couch, and doesn't dare glance his way as she opens the fridge to reheat his portion of the meal. Before the food is unwrapped from her hands, Nathan's phone rings. She listens attentively, always curious to hear who would even call this late. His grumbles came first before actually answering the phone, putting it to his ear. "No, no. I'm home."
The food now heating up in their cheap microwave, "Yeah, I have money. Why?" He's quiet for a minute, his tone is hushed now. "No, I- it's not that. I promised Max-" Nathan huffs out harshly, "No, fuck you! You fucked me over last time remember?"
Max squeezes her eyes shut, silently praying for this night to be over. The sound of the microwave pulls her from her thoughts and back into her reality, as she could hear Nathan shouting from their living room.
Stop shaking, she told herself, you're not afraid.
But she is afraid. She's so afraid to the point where she feels numb. Please don't let this happen tonight. Just one peaceful night. Her hands are practically death gripping the counter at his loud banter with the mysterious caller. It always comes back to her.
Max doesn't want tonight to be her fault.
"God damn it," Nathan howls, causing Max to freeze up. "I'll fucking kill you!" He roars before slamming his phone into the wall parallel to him. He breathes heavily before falling onto the couch again, mumbling something that Max couldn't quite hear.
His angry pants didn't stop, she knows he's gripping his hair by now. If it keeps going this way she'll just have to tough up, she has to be careful.
"Max, hurry the fuck up." The Prescott demands, causing Max to jump yet again.
"O-oh, sorry." Max reaches to pull the plate out of the microwave with trembling fingers. She takes a deep breath before approaching the man. Stop shaking, she thought yet again, stop. But she can't bring herself to become calm. You're going to wake up and repeat this again, why are you afraid? It's always the same, Max. He'll be nice tomorrow. Just make it through the night, that's all you have to do.
"Max," Nathan growls. "Hurry up." At this point Max realizes she didn't even grab a fork, and knows she will be scolded for the mistake. In the moment she thought he had a firm grip on the plate when she let go to turn around and go get the missing utensil, she was terribly wrong; causing the plate to slip and crash to the floor. She watched it fall, playing it over and over, each time slower, in her mind.
Until finally, it lands. And the only thing left is Max's terrified panting, and Nathan's harsh gaze that makes her feel like nothing. "Are you fucking serious, Max?!"
For how intoxicated he seemed earlier, he sure sobered up pretty quickly. "I can't fucking believe this!" Max could practically see the veins in his neck bulging out from the fury he's holding back. "I work my ass off, day and night," his words are spitting out at her as his teeth are clenched together.
Max realizes how close he's gotten as he speaks, and she tries to back away to the wall as quickly as possible to get away from his wrath. "And this, is the shit I come home to! You're always so fucking stupid, Max! You can never do anything right!"
When her elbow collides with the wall, she feels a sharp sting in her foot; averting her eyes only for a second lets her see the shattered phone on the ground.
"Nathan, please-" Max cries out, her arms shielding her body from what she knows is about to come.
"You're so fucking stupid," A shove to the wall.
"I regret the day I ever met you!" A punch to her chest, knocking the breath from her lungs.
"You'll never amount to anything, hell, you can't even look at me right now!" A slap across her face. "Look at me, Max."
"N-Nathan I-" Max chokes out, focusing more on the pain in her foot than the sore feeling deep in her stomach from the words he left.
"Look at me!" Nathan jerked her face towards his, but her gaze refused to meet his. They were almost nose-to-nose and Max could smell the alcohol on his breath. His rough calloused hand is wrapping around her throat, and in that moment she finally snaps.
'You're not scared.'
Max grasps his shoulders, and with all of the strength that is coming from the fear of the moment; the strength that has been bubbling inside of her for years, she shoves the man to the ground.
And there was a moment where she had no idea what she wanted to do next. She knew that if she didn't do something now then she would certainly be dead.
"You fucking bitch!"
Max reaches down to grab what is left of the shattered phone at her foot and runs as fast as she can to the hallway. She tries to tune out the throbbing pain she feels in her entire body as she hears stumbling feet behind her, catching up to her.
She quickly makes her way into the bathroom, slamming the door and locking it, hoping it'll keep her safe long enough. She turns away from the door and lets her back slide on it until she's on the floor.
Max takes a moment to catch her breath. It isn't too long before she hears approaching footsteps and then violent beating on the door, and her heart is in her throat yet again.
"Max, I swear, you are dead to me!" Nathan growls at her back. Max then realizes she's clenching the shattered phone to her chest.
"Please, please work," She pleaded, scrambling to press buttons on the phone. On instinct, she dials 9-1-1.
Nothing.
"No.. No! Please!" She desperately dials it again.
Silence.
There's a moment where Max feels numb. She can't hear anything other than the ringing in her ears and her beating heart. It's over, she says over and over in her mind.
And then,
"9-1-1,"
There's hope for me.
"What's your emergency?"
—
It's so quiet tonight, Chloe thinks. Her cigarette is already halfway gone, and she only has 3 left in her pack. This week she's been smoking like a freight train, but she isn't even sure why. Nothing serious has happened, this week has been flying by so smoothly that she almost wanted to be suspicious of it. But she's not that type of person, if everything is okay, then fucking let it be. There's no reason to make things dramatic. Just relax.
She got a call earlier but it was a bust, it was just a stupid prank. Although they weren't very smart, she found the young teen boys snickering with a mobile behind the place they called the crime about. All she had to do was say she was going to call their parents about it and they were putty in her hands.
Bawling at her feet for freedom; they didn't want to get arrested. Chloe thought it was pretty funny that the 'anonymous' call came from someone called "Anya Dicki", so she agreed to let them go if they won Rock, Paper, Scissors against her. They didn't win though, and Chloe got everything in their pockets. She thought it was a pretty good lesson to teach them.
She leans against her motorcycle, her free hand resting on her gun holster. It's become a habit, gotta be ready for anything at any moment. There's been too many occasions where she didn't pull it out quick enough.
A pain shoots through Chloe's thumb, so she squeezes her leathered hand; the popping of her trigger finger becoming a pain. She told the chief that it was from gun practice, that the kick of the backfire must've done it. He fell for it, but it was actually from playing video games too much.
The fingerless gloves she wears helps her grip when driving; sweaty hands don't go good with handlebars. And they also look hella badass, Chloe's pretty sure it completes her whole 'motorcycle cop' outfit. She also has the leather jacket, but it's not cold enough to wear it yet. It getting close to that time of year though.
There was already a funeral for a fellow officer who died because they crashed their bike, she didn't want to fall into that category. If she's going to die while on duty, it better be in a blaze of glory. Maybe at a big drug bust, something with the mafia, or a bank heist. If it isn't noble, then her time spent on this police force would be nothing. The gun wounds, the scars, especially the near deaths. Chloe's already lost too much on this force. And it didn't mean anything to anyone then.
The buzz of her radio pulls her out of her thoughts, and snuffs the rest of her cigarette; planning to save it for later. "Come in all units in the downtown Seattle area, I repeat, downtown Seattle units. We have a possible domestic violence, are there any available units?"
Chloe couldn't really tell what made her want to pick up the call, domestic violence cases aren't always serious cases. A lot of the times it's just a fight, and you have to waste your time actually going there to break it up. She's pretty sure her dad gives her those jobs.
Chloe knows this from experience, which makes her feel disappointed. I want something exciting for once, dad always tries to give me the easy jobs so I don't get hurt. But fuck that.
Instead of responding, Chloe stays leaned against her bike; hoping for a better call. She puts her almost-shoulder-length hair in a small bun, she dyed her hair to match her blue uniform; mostly as a joke but she didn't realize the dye was permanent before it was too late.
Her father, a.k.a. chief of police, was not pleased with this outcome. Everyone else on the force seemed pretty tickled at her bold move, earning her nickname "The Punk" while on duty. Chloe guesses it's also because the sleeve tattoo she has, which came from her friend when she was still a delinquent.
She thinks back to all the things she's done to just piss her dad off, she delves into her memories while the radio continues its' chatter.
"I repeat this is a 6104-Echo. We need any available units to respond." The Echo code grabs her attention, and she decides this call should keep her busy for a while.
Swinging her leg over her bike, Chloe grabs her radio, "HQ this is officer 142 responding to possible 6104-Echo case. 10-20 downtown, where is our possible DV located? Over." She waits patiently for the response, taking her keys out to start her engine.
"10-4 officer 142, call is located in Pacific Seattle Hotel. Over." Chloe knows the reputation for that place, they get at least 1 to 3 calls a month from there; never having actually answered any but she's heard the stories. "Officer 142, 10-76. Over." She revs up the engine, sure to put up the kickstand before zooming off out of the area.
The Punk turns on her sirens and emergency lights, she has to get there as quickly as possible; traffic is always horrible in this city. Only because it's a major city. That's the main reason she decided to drive a bike, Chloe can just drive through the lanes rather than waiting for them to clear. Although that's pretty dangerous in itself.
The bangs of hair aren't long enough to reach the back of her head yet, so they wisp around her face. In all honestly, as cool as she looks and feels with no helmet on, the small slashes from her hair onto her cheeks really hurt. Not to mention the danger of her not being able to see and crashing that way.
It wasn't long before she arrived, pulling out her taser rather than her gun; no casualties is always the goal. She doesn't even have to ask anyone which room it is, the loud banging and screaming is enough of a signal.
This is when the sweat really starts to form, the adrenaline pumping as the action is about to come into play. Chloe goes up the stairs quickly, coming right next to the door. Which is stupidly, left cracked open. She listens carefully before leaning closer to hear the situation. A man, obviously angry, screaming. "I'll fucking kill you, Max! Try that shit again!" More hurried banging, "Come out of there, right fucking now!"
A muffled cry, "No! Please, stop! I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Chloe swallows hurriedly, reaching for the radio perched on her shoulder. "HQ, officer 142, 10-4 on the possible DV, 10-78. Over." She keeps her grip tight on the taser as her response comes through. "10-10, no immediate backup available. Over."
"Goddamnit HQ, this is bad. 10-18, I repeat, 10-18. Fucking over." I need to save this girl, but this guy sounds insane. Chloe knows she's pretty tough, but if he's on drugs then there's no telling what he's capable of. I'll have to just do this. This isn't exactly a noble death, but hers wouldn't be either. The girl's screams made Chloe feel desperate, to just go ahead and bust in.
But Chloe doesn't have a plan, no backup; nothing. She's a one man army. Even if she loves to take risks, these aren't the kind she had in mind. With or without HQ's help, Chloe decides to just try to save this girl.
The sudden snapping of wood snatches the rest of The Punk's attention. "I've got you now, bitch!" It's now or never. When Chloe kicks open the door, there's a scene splayed out in front of her that she's never seen before.
