Chapter 2 A/N: Okay so I thought I'd change this chapter around a bit and start with Cruz's POV and then switch to Bosco's. So here it is. The confrontations, hope you enjoy!
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Chapter 2 Confrontations
Struggling to open my locker in the precinct and get out as quickly as possible, I really didn't want to chance running into anyone, especially Swersky. Finally getting the locker open I cringed as a small note fell out and landed on the floor. Picking it up slowly, I read it to myself,
Animal's trial – November 5th at noon. Contact Boscorelli
I cringed before crimpling it into a tiny ball in my fist before throwing it into the garbage, at the end of the locker row.
Several late beat officers wandered in and out, giving her a weird look as I thrashed through my locker. They didn't bother me though, I was unknown to them. Pulling out my .9mm pistol I check it on safety before slipping it into my gun belt that hung low along my waist.
Continuing through my locker I saw the door open out of the corner of my eye but ignored it, keeping my attention to the locker. I flipped through a folder, trying desperately to find the information on the detail I had taken that left me shattered.
However, I hesitated from going over the papers in the file when the person spoke.
"Ritza?" His voice was soft and mellow, yet filled with confusion. I felt like disappearing, blending into the lockers. Watch how Cruz can turn into a Chameleon and blend into her environment!
I kept my eyes glued to the paper not looking up. "What?" I snarled towards Bosco, my voice low with irritation.
"I was looking for you after the trial." Boscorelli replied to me after a moment, his eyes looking me over. "What happened?" He hesitated. What happned? Hmm, let me think about that one. Where should I start? I took a detail, got myself raped, and then forgot about the trial. I don't know Bosco, what happened?
Fuck it. You'll find the article later on that dump. You still have to contact the other therapists, inform them on testifying after I get that son of a bitch. That is, if I don't kill him.
I placed the file down on the bench calmly as my eyes reverted to his. "Nothing, I had to pick up a few things here." I explained. It wasn't entirely a lie. Really, it wasn't. Just a bit…err…bent.
He just stared at me, most likely trying to see through my hardened eyes, trying to tell if I was lying. "It's not like you to forget something that important."
"Slipped my mind," I snorted at him before slamming my locker shut.
"Thing like this never slip your mind." He retorted back to me his hands crossed along his chest.
"Well, it did." I snapped before picking up the folder and resting it against my chest, "You mind?" I muttered walking up to him. He was clearly blocking my path on purpose making my escape impossible.
"Are you okay?" He asked quietly. "Really?"
My expression grew twisted, "What the hell did Monroe tell yah?" I questioned him my voice rising by the moment. If that bitch slipped one god damn word to Bosco, she was going to pay.
Bosco shook his head his expression blank, not telling me what the hell he was thinking, "Nothing, does it kill you that I can tell you're up to something?"
I stared at him in fury. "You shouldn't care!" I snapped. "Get outta' my way Bosco." I hissed.
"I know I shouldn't care. I shouldn't care if you dropped off the face of the earth…but I do because I'm a good guy." Bosco offered me a grin but I didn't respond. Before I knew it he ripped the folder out of my hands.
"Give it back!" I yelled outraged, reaching for it from his hands.
He read the cover holding it above my head. Mature. Really mature. "Sex-for-Medical-Service?" He questioned me looking down and handing it back. "What the hell does that mean?" His eyes widened puzzled.
"Nothing, okay? It's a detail." I bit my tongue snatching back the folder from his hand. "You're wasting my time, get out of my way."
He still stared at me but obediently moved to the side, "Maritza, don't get your-self hurt or in trouble." I heard him speak but I was out the door by the time I replied.
"Too late." I whispered before disappearing down the hall of the crowded precinct.
I laid on my bed in my warm bath robe, hutched in a ball on my side, my dampened hair flowed down my shoulder. My eyes were shut tight as I smothered my face in my pillow, tear stains clearly visible. I kept seeing it all happen again. I kept feeling the blow to my stomach that made me fall to the ground in defeat. I could feel his breath on the back of my neck, smell it. I just wanted it to stop.
I had taken the grand total of three showers in one day and yet, I couldn't get the dirty feeling off me. It was still there after scrubbing and washing every last edge of my body. The bruises were temporary reminders. The scars would stay forever, engraved in my head.
My body was a wreck, mentally and physically. Every bone in my body was aching and moaning for sleep and a rest. I wouldn't let it happen though; I couldn't, not with the nightmares that I would have to go through and the visions I would have to see of him on me. The last two days were nothing but pure agony.
I could feel reality start to slip away, out of my grasp. I couldn't keep this up any longer; my tear swollen eyes wouldn't allow it. Feeling myself drift away, everything became black and I was swallowed up in a nightmare.
My conscious was a nightmare, a pure living hell. I hated feeling guilty for something I didn't even do. Like now, I felt guilty for leaving Cruz alone, for not making her tell me what was going on.
I could see the pain and fear in her eyes when she saw me in the locker room though, I'm not blind. I couldn't tell if she had played it in my face though, wanted me to wonder. Too sit here, swallowed up in my own self-piety. I mean, she was always pretty good with hiding her feelings. This had to be bad. It was just too obvious.
It was only 9pm, by the time I woke up from a restless sleep. Curiosity was surely getting the best of me. If I went to her place, hell, I feared she'd kill me with my own gun. She made it pretty clear that she didn't want me near her. That was for sure, but no, it wasn't a good enough answer for me, Officer Boscorelli. Hell no! Everyone knows the saying, curiosity killed the cat.
My cell phone made a noise somewhere on the side of the room. Climbing out of bed and wandering around aimlessly for it, I eventually found it on the side of the bed, where my jean pants laid in a heap.
Taking the phone out I had a new voice mail. I wondered who that could be. Dialing the number, I was pretty sure there was no chance in hell it would be her, but hey, the small part in me told me to do it. It was the devil talking.
Ended up being Rita, the D.A asking me to call her back sometime in the morning about the evidence we were going to need to get this guy in for another preliminary. I didn't want to think about it. I was preoccupied in another world. Following my gut on this, I hesitated slightly and dialed her number.
Don't ask me why I was suddenly really worried about the woman who nearly killed my best friend. I have no idea myself and that's the truth, I mean, it doesn't make sense does it?
I just knew this was something I had to do to mend the knots between us, one step closer to building that understanding.
I let it ring, my stomach in my throat with anxiety. Five times, ten times, and her answering machine picked up. "Cruz, if you're there, pick up," I paused. Come on; pick up the god damn phone. "Cruz?" Waiting another minute, the machine hung up on me and I cursed rather loudly. There was no way in hell I would be able to sleep like this. Hanging up and tossing my phone on the bed, I pulled on my jeans, grabbed my NYPD jacket off the hanger and disappeared out of my apartment.
He was on top of me, his hands digging into my sides. I was frozen in place, stunned, like a dear frozen in head lights. I tried to scream for help but the only thing that came out from the back of my throat was a small cry and a gasp for air. Tears were flowing down my cheeks, burning my flesh as I held my eyelids shut as tightly as possible. He was hissing at me not to cry, his breath bitter with the scent of smoke. I couldn't help it though; the tears were not going to stop, no matter how hard I tried to hold them back. The tears wouldn't stop and either would he.
I seriously thought I was going to die there, lying on the floor. My mind raced through my life in fear. I wanted another chance, another chance to make things right, to save my sister and maybe even think twice before back-stabbing a friend. I thought about the one person who could gave me strength, just a bit of comforting safety in my own mind. I cried, "Bosco!"
With that I came back to reality, sitting up quickly, taking deep hollow breaths. Feeling my body covered in a cold sweat I ran a hand through my hair. It was just a dream, clam yourself down Ritza. He's not going to hurt you again; you're going to hurt him.
After several minutes of sitting up, gazing around the room, I brought my heart rate and breathing down to normal so my heart was guaranteed not to rip out of my chest. As I went to lay my head back down loud knocks from the door stopped me dead in fear. Feeling a coat of goose bumps surface along my bruised skin my heart rate sped up like a bullet tearing through the air. Swinging my legs over the side of the bed I reached into my nightstand and pulled out a .9mm pistol from my drawer. Turning safety off, I stood up shakily and made my way down the dark hall, the gun in front of me.
"Cruz!"
TBC…Keep the reviews coming. = )
