She sat on the ledge, her long legs swinging above the city. The sun began its slow descent over the city of Boston. The mid-winter breeze kissed her bare arms. Her mind told her that it was cold and she should go inside to the safety of her apartment, but she couldn't bring herself to move. If she returned to her apartment, she would be returning to the memories and pain that plagued her now.
In her apartment lived the memories that tugged at the strings of her blackened heart. In the kitchen was the memory of sharing grilled cheese with her. That was the moment she told her that she loved her. At the time, she was under the unfortunate impression that she spoke of a platonic love. Little did she know about the depth of the other woman's love for her.
In her bedroom was the nightmare of her one night stand with one Gabriel Dean. Rather than bathe her best friend in love and support, she fell into the arms of the available F.B.I Agent. Their night was everything but passionate. The man knew nothing about satisfying a woman. He cared only about getting himself off. She was merely a vessel for him. When the deed was done, he turned over without so much of a goodnight kiss. No one knew she was a cuddler. She liked to be held at night. She didn't give herself in such a personal way very often. When she did, it meant something. When she was sure he was in a deep sleep, she cried herself to sleep, the guild of overcoming her. And she did not know why.
She had no claim to the other woman's heart, not anymore. She shouldn't feel guilty for sleeping with Dean. They were not together. She deserved her release of Hemoglobin A. She was not cheating on her. So, why did she feel like a cheating spouse?
The answer to that question lied deep within a closet of her heart kept under lock and key. The only person who had the key was long gone. No one knew where she'd disappeared to and if she'd ever come back. It was most likely that she would never return and everyone, though hurt, understood why. The world knew her secret. The entire country knew that the Chief Medical Examiner was the daughter of decease crime boss Paddy Doyle.
The events of that night replayed in her thoughts every possible second. It was not the sound of the bullet escaping the chamber of her gun that kept her awake at night.
"Don't touch him! Don't you dare touch him."
The look of pure horror and hurt in her eyes was burned under her eyelids. It was the only thing she saw when she closed her eyes, when she wasn't at the bottom of a bottle. And that was where she was these days most of the time.
She stood on her ledge. If she were to jump, it would be a 40 foot drop. Death would be instantaneous. She would never have to worry about her, her family, the city of Boston. She wouldn't have to face people calling her Boston's Hero.
She wasn't a hero. She was an idiot. She was a coward. She didn't deserve the praise the city was willing to shower her with. Yes, she killed Paddy Doyle. But the victory was not worth it. Not when she destroyed the most meaningful relationship she ever had. Sure, she had her family and the few friends she had, but that would never be enough. No could ever burrow deep enough into her heart. She wouldn't allow them to. It saved her from getting hurt and hurting others. Right now, her heart needed an extra large band-aid. Not just any band-aid. Only a quirky, honey-blonde band-aid would suffice and the drug store was fresh out.
She watched the yellow liquid swirl around in the green beer bottle. It was a beautiful night in Boston. The streets were unnaturally quiet. The world stood still while she was on her roof top. Tonight was the night.
She listened to the breeze. Every so often, her sweet voice would whisper her name in the wind. But she knew better, it was just a figment of her overworked soul.
Until it wasn't.