The End

Andrew preferred to work solo until his partner was found. He hoped daily that his departure was voluntary, that he didn’t go rogue and got caught in a fatal situation. The day was unusually slow and he was about to call it  when he got the call. “Desiree” flashed across his screen and his heart quickened. He hadn’t spoken to her since the night he went over, even though he desperately wanted to apologize. He took a deep breath before accepting the call. “Hey,” he said, trying to sound cheery. “Andrew…”
“Yeah, Dee, I gotta apologize for the other night. I was way outta line…”
“Andrew…Someone’s here,” she whispered.
“What? Who?”
“I don’t know. He kicked in the door. I’m hiding upstairs.”
“Can you make it to the back door?”
“No. He’s coming up the stairs.” Andrew stood up from his desk. “Dee, listen, you need to open the window and…” Before he could finish his instructions, he heard a struggle and Desiree swear. “Dee? Desiree!” he yelled, before the line disconnected. He slammed the phone down on his desk and covered his mouth. He took half a second to collect himself before he kicked the chair and strode across the room. Detective Shondra Miller sat a few feet away from him, typing up her notes on a current closed case. Andrew’s large stature cast a shadow across her, slightly startling her. “Jordan, what’s up?” she asked, reading the worry lines in his face. He grabbed a Post-It note from her desk and began scribbling an address. “If I don’t call you in an hour, I need you to bring back-up to this address,” he said, lifting the note to her eye level and dropping it back on the desk, before jogging out of the squad room. “Wait, what’s going on?!” she yelled at his back but he was already gone.

The street was quiet and the gallery was dark. Andrew parked closer to the curb and shut off his lights. He reached under his seat and produced his weapon, which he slipped into the holster under his arm. He leaned down and double checked the pistol strapped to his ankle. Armed for bear, he got out of his car and rounded the block. He needed the element of surprise and he knew that the back entrance would be ideal. As he crept down the alley, he saw the large, gray service door was already slightly propped open, the latch never catching from its previous use. Andrew unholstered his weapon and pulled the door open slowly before slipping inside. The space was foreign from this side of her makeshift wall: the storage area for her supplies had been disrupted, as if a struggle had ensued. As he stepped over paint brushes and eisels, he steadied himself for what he might witness behind the wall. He never saw the hulking man in the corner, until he clobbered him with something heavy, rendering him unconscious. Read More »

Chapter Nine

Alice skipped over her criminal past and the scar tissue on her uterus. She told Andrew everything else, just as she promised: the miscarriage, the depression, the pain, how she wound up in Jackie’s arms. Every feeling and thought she’d had over the past 11 months, she laid bear for her husband. An hour had gone by when she finally stopped talking. Andrew struggled to maintain his composure but he could not hold back the tears. He was genuinely heart broken, the first time since Monique LaSalle, whom dumped him 3rd French in high school.Read More »

Chapter Eight

I need you.
The text was vague, especially after all that had happened. Andrew was still concerned. The heart-to-heart with Desiree gave him all the insight he needed. He wanted to make it work with his wife. He began his own message when another blue bubble appeared.

At the station.
His U-turn was sharp and wide as he flipped on his siren and barrelled down the street in the direction of his job. He felt his heart skip a beat when he pulled in 8 minutes later. He asked a few officers about his wife as he sped through the building, leading him to the homicide squad room. Alice sat next to Detective Foreman’s desk, shaken with tears falling down her face. “Babe, hey, what happened?” he said, kneeling in front of her. She wrapped her arms around him and sobbed uncontrollably.

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VII

The place was quiet, outside of his shallowing breathing, perfect for what they needed to accomplish. The giant stood nearby, preparing himself for the next round of punishment.
Martin was fading in and out of consciousnes. He had been their hostage for about 8 or 9 hours and he was ready for them to kill him. The man that worked him over never said a word to him; just constant torture. He used his ribcage as a punching bag, broke bones, and even sliced into his skin with a surgical scalpel. Begging and pleading fell upon deaf ears: he wasn’t the person in charge.

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Chapter Four

The neighborhood hadn’t changed, except for being buoyant and lively, many of the homes were empty shells of their former glory. Roman stopped his car in front of one of the lots, few signs of a house’s existence there. He put the car in park on the curb and got out. He stuck his hands into his pockets and stared. So much history on this very spot. He’d been gone long enough and he was back to claim what was his.Read More »

Chapter Two

Except she wasn’t asleep.

Alice lay in the bed still as she could, careful not to stir her snoring husband. The sun crept slowly into their bedroom before she slipped from the covers. She showered and dressed quickly: stockings, dress, blazer, an ensemble she chose with great care the night before. She wanted to look good. She applied her makeup carefully as she stared at her visage in the mirror: she was beautiful, but her eyes gave away the emptiness that resonated in herRead More »

Chapter One

Another depressing night of Alice just rolling over and going to sleep. He was sure the candlelit dinner and Chianti would change her mind and she’d show him the affection she had been neglecting for the past eight months. They had actually have a conversation that consisted of more than 4 words. She was funny, witty, intelligent, sexy, the woman he fell in love with 15 years ago. It wasn’t her fault though– she got promoted to Junior Partner at Webster, Jameson and Taylor almost a year ago, doubling her pay and almost tripling her workload. At first, he tried to be understanding: he cooked dinner, he ran baths, rubbed her feet until she was sound asleep. But his efforts were one-sided: Alice had all but forgotten about her husband’s needs and wants. It had now been 212 days since they had made love.Read More »

Don’t Break My Heart

Please.
Not again.
This distance again. It’s been days since I heard your voice. Since you called me “baby” that sweet way you do. I miss the flush of my cheeks when you say you miss me and the roar in the pit of my stomach when you say you want me.

Donnell Jones is on and I’m in my feelings.
Why is every damn song about you?
I got ahead of myself. Again.
I pictured myself in your arms.
I imagine how true your love would be,
How I would cater to you & dedicate all my affection to you. You’d be charming, hilarious, understanding and transparent with me.
I’m distracted at the thought of you. I forget what I’m doing.
What was I about to say?
Sorry, the image of your body wiped my slate clean.

Staring helplessly at my phone, waiting on your call.
Reading our messages again and I’m still smiling, still laughing at your jokes. We used to talk everyday.
It’s been almost a week, did I bore you? Don’t you miss me? Isn’t our agony symmetrical?
Do you scroll through my Facebook?
Are you hovering over the hearts on my Instagram?
Are you haunted by our abandoned message threads?
Aren’t you pressed, how come you not checking for me?

Going through “Love’s Withdrawal”, got me feeling “Ridiculous”; the only romance I’m getting from these melodies, but they aren’t for me, regardless of the validity in these words.
Yet, I’m singing along. I hope you hear me.

I heard about your other one.
I mean…
I always knew about the other ones, but I know I’m not the only one pretending that I’m the only one. I mean, damn, can’t a girl dream?
I keep wondering if she kissed you…
Did she make you laugh?
Did you careen into ecstasy with her?
Did you forget about me?

This was a losing battle from the jump. I let you in too easily. You didn’t have to work for it, like those other guys.
You were different, at least I thought so.
But my affection had no value to you,
You set it aside, unexplored.
Was my heart too cheap for you?
I thought we were cool, I thought it was going well… But maybe that was just me…
Yet I’m still waiting on you.
“So…you just ain’t gon’ call me?”