“It is just that I was wondering if I could get a job in your firm.”
Laurel stares into his eyes as the words escape her lips with no accident, every word precisely where she wants them to be. She lets her lip fall just slightly open but not obvious to the eyes. The
Sometimes the things we lose are the things we value the most—the persons we value the most. Side effects of an act done in a moment of weakness but while we blame ourselves, we still hope things had turned out differently. And just as we wish to turn back the hands of the clock and do it right, things don't always go the way we want them to. A way of saying, we are not God.
“Laurel, welcome. You look even more ravishing than when I first saw you.” Malcolm scrutinizes her. Laurel is used to this kind of gaze so she doesn't feel conscious of her body, instead, she is washed with more confidence as she knows she had the man just where she wants him, his eyes devouring her body and no doubt ripping the white office top and black body con skirt off her body.
The huge chandelier hangs perfectly high at the top of the wide room. Some men are with younger women, walking in pairs through the stairs while a pack of other men in black suits enter an elevator at the other corner.On the left is a room service counter with fi
Sebastian had left earlier to find the truth. He had hoped to quench the consuming thirst for justice that had engrossed him into its abode and left him with nothing but a single wear and a worn out couch in an unpleasant environment. The truth was not at all the best thing to hear neither is the victim’s agony a pleasant sight but it is his job as an enforcer of the law. He must behold the truth no matter how disquieting it might seem.
Twelve years ago:The car comes to a halt.
The door swings open as Sebastian storms into the precinct letting the raging wind outside burst inside, colliding just the same time with the freezing air that tries to escape.He storms past the crowded down floor filled with uniform men and women. Detectives reading behind their tables. He makes his way to the
Pain is a family friend to the Browns’. Their theirs had been spilled on the grounds of Bushkill more than the rain had fallen in a year. Their heart strings had adapted fairly to the constant rapid sting that always presents itself unannounced. On the coast of tragedy, they must have had their names inscribed, or at least, the whistler of woe must whistle their names more too often than not.
“What? I am getting dropped from the case?” Sebastian presses his lips on a hard line. The words escaping the chief’s mouth feels like a razor piercing through tender tissues of Sebastian’s heart living him drenched in a pool of his own blood. Except there is no blood or any razor, just the vengeance of a hurt double officer.