Early In The Morning
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
She paced across her small apartment, the threadbare carpet worn, dirty beneath her bare toes. Glancing at the clock, watching as it moved slowly, taunting through another moment.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
How long could a night last?
Another slow circuit of her apartment. Another moment inched through, her nerves already strained and taught.
What would she be like, early in the morning?
Already too nervous, too excited to sleep, she sat down in front of the television, folding her legs underneath her body, starting to flick through the channels.
She remembered just in time to turn the volume down. There was no need to wake the whole of building just because she couldn't sleep.
Her eyes fell on the letter, carefully folded held in place by her shield, all ready for the morning. She had a lot to live up to, her reputation, already known after the shoot out, spread further by rumours of her scores in the detective exam.
She still couldn't believe her result. She'd phoned One Police Plaza, asked them to check her results, just to make sure.
She knew it only increased expectations, only increased the pressure on her. She couldn't afford any mistakes, any screw ups.
Any more screw ups like the beauty salon. That was one of the reasons she was still awake, watching the clock tick its slow maddening way around, watching the minutes crawl past.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw them, heard the dull retort, the dull echo of gunshots. Saw the expression on their faces as the hot lead tore through their bodies.
So much blood.
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
Unable to sit still, she stood up, pain rushing quickly through her legs as she flexed them, leaving the TV on to provide some accompaniment, some light, some noise through the silence.
Her kitchen was small, squeezed into one corner of her cramped apartment, her dinner dishes still cluttering up her sink. She hadn't been able to eat much, her stomach twisting, unable to settle, lurching with every bite.
She opened the fridge, blinking at the sudden light, bright and pure, through the shadowy apartment. Almost reaching for the four beers on the top shelf, her hand closing around the cold damp glass.
It wouldn't do to turn up on her first day, smelling of drink.
She closed the fridge door, plunging the apartment back into darkness, pacing back across it, into her bedroom, opening the wardrobe door.
She'd already decided what she was going to wear. A dark purple shirt, black trousers, comfortable boots. Her favourite leather jacket. Simple, professional. It made her look like a detective.
She glanced at the unmade bed, the sheets kicked off it by her twisting and turning, by her efforts to fall asleep. She needed some sleep before the morning. She needed to be sharp and fresh.
Drawn back to the living room, to where she had left her shield. She lifted it up, studying it in the dim light, tracing her hesitative fingers across the raised lettering, words she knew by heart, burned into her mind, into her soul.
She wished her father could have seen her now.
She was still staring, staring at her shield, when the page came through. She fumbled for it, grasping for it as it squirted across the small table. Squinting at the dark liquid letters.
Almost smiling.
Her first page.
She dressed hurriedly, not wanting to be late for her first scene. Slipping her pager into her pocket, attaching her gun and shield to her belt.
She knew what some of her colleagues thought of her, knew what they called her when they thought she couldn't hear them.
She wasn't Detective Beauty Queen anymore.
She was Detective Nina Cassady of the 27th Detective Squad.
End of Early In The Morning