Shana woke up in her apartment. She looks over at the clock standing at the night-table to the left of her with a sleepy look in her face. She brush away some of her long black hair and lay it behind her ear. 9AM. Not a bad time to wake up in really. She had been in house-arrest for the last few weeks now while that stupid case had been going. Like, what would the cops ever find that could prove anything? And besides, she had some of the best lawyers in the entire United States, and the police had the underpaid ones. Not that price had too much to say, but it was usually the ones that didn't really meet your expectations that got the lowest payment. That was probably why I had all the money I had as well. While the case against her was going on, she had to stay put. No leaving the town or anything. She could leave the apartment, but she had to check back in within a certain time.
After putting a pot of water on the oven, get dressed and grab the newspaper, Shana walks into the kitchen and grabs the pot. It was steaming, but it was an oven after all. That was kinda why it was made. To heat stuff. She prepares the cup with some tea-leaves before she pours the water into the cup and carry it out to the living-room in the maybe a little too expensive apartment. Well, it was the two top floors of the most luxerious designer-apartments in the entire New York, so it wasn't that strange that it was expensive. With the tea standing on the coffee-table in front of the black leather couch, Shana lays down in the couch, opening the newspaper slowly, not far too interested in the content.
"Hmm... 15 years old Dwayne Summerdale was found murdered in his family's back yard last night... The police don't know how the victim died, but it can appear to be a blade of some sort" Shana folds together the newspaper, not bothering to read any more of it. Just by reading that, she knew that she would most likely be bothered with some sort of an interview or something from either the police or a bunch of journalists. Or both for that sake. She leaves the newspaper on the table and start to sip lightly on the strong, yet delicious tea. Expensive tea-leaves from Japan, but it was defenately worth it. Her bank-count was still an 8-digit number, so I couldn't complain. Life wasn't too bad after all.
Private Mod Note
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If you see me on this site, it's probably because I'm not particularly interested in it. Or I may be slightly intoxicated, though probably you won't see me here.
Sitting in the front room of the house, taking quick sips of the whiskey placed the table. Another fight, another night of Stacy crying herself to sleep. What time is it anyway? Hey, 6:30. Entering the kitchen, I flick the coffee machine on and leave it to make. Rushing around the house, I place a new plain white shirt over my body before placing that same black leather jacket. Once the coffee ready, I place it inside Stacey's room before leaving the house. Opening the car's door, I sit myself down and start up the car
The drive was quite and uneventful. But as soon as I enter the room of the station, there's news of another death.
James put down the scissors, and took a look at the clock positioned above the door. A quarter to seven. It took his sleep-deprived mind a while to process the information, until he realized that he'd worked during the entire night. Again. He pushed the table back into the cabinet, where the body would be kept at sub-zero degrees to ensure it wouldn't decompose. A small puff of cold air tickled his hands as he shut the hatch and locked it. James took off his gloves, and ran his hand through his hair. He was incredibly tired, and he knew that it was affecting his job. He was pretty sure there wasn't much more to learn from this one though. Same as the rest - multiple stab wounds, most likely the majority of which were inflicted after the victim's death... James sighed. Sometimes he wondered if his job fazed him more than he'd like to admit. The blood and wounds weren't so bad, he wasn't squeamish. But the stories they told... Those moments when you finally realized the cause of the injuries. Sometimes it was a bit too much. But he could deal with it. In his own way. James made a mental note to stop by Anders and pick up a few more needles. He'd been out since yesterday. The drugs helped keep things... fluffy, unfocused. It was self-medication, James told himself. Because it was either that, or keeping himself awake longer, making himself drowsy and dulling his own senses that way. And if he didn't...
"Came here early, hotshot?" Lana was standing in the doorway, holding two cups of coffee. James smiled. Lana was the only other forensics expert who did autopsies. She was pretty cool, and always made sure he got his fill of coffee in the morning. He took one of the cups from her hand, and took a big gulp before answering. "Yeah", he said, "I got here, maybe an hour early or so. Couldn't go back to sleep after I woke up, so I thought that I might as well come to work and be productive." She looked at him with a mixed expression. A bit of a smile, blended with a little pity and at the same looking a bit... skeptical? "You've got to get more sleep, James", she said and poked him in the forehead. "We're going to need you at your best if we're going to solve this case. Coffee alone isn't going to keep you running." James shrugged, not quite sure if she knew the extent of his sleep deprivation. "I get enough. Besides, we're dealing with multiple homicides here. I'll make sure to take a vacation at some point." He gestured vaguely towards Lana. "Hey, maybe we can all take vacations, and let Norris do all the work!" They both had a good laugh. Norris was an accountant for the police station, although most of the time he just stood around, doing nothing but drinking mineral water which he insisted was imported from some fancy place in France. Mostly people just ignored him, except when they occasionally joked about the weird ties he wore on Fridays for no reason. "Alright", Lana said as the laughter ebbed out, "I'm going to head upstairs and finish some of the autopsy reports. I'll take some of your workload if I have time to, I know you hate that technical jargon ." "Thanks", James said as she left.
He took a deep breath. Talking to Lana was always nice, but he always felt kind of guilty afterwards. It was as if she was trying to reach out to him, but he was too busy putting up walls between himself and the rest of the world to notice. James took another sip from his coffee. He needed those walls though. They kept him sane. Apart from all the swirling thoughts and regrets that he couldn't get rid of, no matter how hard he tried. Regrets like... James shook his head, trying to remember what he had been thinking of. He was supposed to do something. Meet up with a colleague maybe? Right, he was supposed to have a meeting with John and go through the latest reports. James went through the doors, and began walking up the stairs.