Disclaimer: Again, I do not own any of the characters, brands name and such. I only own my active imagination, and a whole lot of free time.
This is written in the first person's POV.
Review is much appreciated.
There is no justice in this world. It's all a lie. A conspiracy that started centuries ago from the Greeks and the Romans. It's all the same. Things never change, no matter how much time has passed. There is no such thing as justice. Not in a society filled with corrupted thoughts and ill-mannered actions. A society where a misinterpreted glance could garner a fatal retort.
After so many years of being a detective, it still hurts to hear about dead bodies and fallen officers. Every tear shed is like another dagger through my heart. Some days, the emotional pain doesn't bother me. But every person has their breaking point. And I think I'm at mine right now.
I never thought I'd be at this point, where everything I do and see seem to push me closer to the edge. Every nerve ending on my body went numb when I heard what had happened. ADAs receive threats all the time, from the accused, the victim's families. But something was different about this threat. It was the person that made that threat.
Emiliano Zapata. Or what I'd like to call a waste of genetics. All my life as a cop I've tried my best to put scumbags like him away, yet there seems to be another one that springs up just as quickly as they go down. It didn't matter that he was heavily involved in drug trafficking, or that he was considered a dangerous man. None of that mattered to Alex. There was a victim and she intended to see that justice was done. Justice. What an overrated ideology. Without it, I wouldn't be sitting in the squad room right now, staring at yet another solved case. But because of it, I lost the one thing that had mattered to me more than life itself.
Alex. It still baffles me how in love I was with her. Yet she never knew. Not once had I mustered enough courage to show her just how I felt. The rare times we spent at the bar with the rest of the squad; the many hours we spent going through a victim's testimony; the phone calls in the night as we sought for her help with a search warrant. All that is left now is soft whispers and wet tears on her gravestone. It feels as though she has not left us at all, yet strangely she feels so far away.
I remember the whole incident like it was yesterday. Did it just happen yesterday? I don't know. I lost track of time the moment the bullet left the magazine. Everything was a blur after that. I remember my partner holding onto me. He knew I hated it, but he also knew I needed the comfort at that moment.
Sometimes I ask myself if this is worth the emotional roller coaster that I go through everyday. One look into a child's eyes and I am reminded why I wanted to do this: to make a difference. To bring justice for innocence lost. To repair an irreparable childhood filled with nightmares and a future filled with haunted pasts.
I know Alex is at a better place now. A safe, calm place. A place where she doesn't have to deal with innocent eyes boring into her ocean blue ones and doesn't have to know that she could not reverse the harm that was already done. A place far away from me.
A familiar voice snaps me back to reality. It's only now that I realize I've been lost in my thoughts for the better part of the hour. I try to blink away the tears that were slowly filling up in my eyes.
"Hey Munch, where've you been? We gotta go, another one at 40th," my partner's voice wills me to hurry up.
Justice. I silently scoff at that thought as I step out of the stationhouse, the morning rays penetrating the clouds above.