I'm No Heroine

  Thick drops of blood stained the cold street ground of St. Valen. Iris’ nose scrunched in disgust when the metallic smell went up through her nose. The trees danced along with the wind, their gentle rustles were the only sound lingering on the dark empty alley which is a few blocks away to the police station. Whistling while watching a man struggle to run away from her—blood oozing from his shoulder covered with his hand like it can make any difference about it—her rosy thin lips curled a menacing smile while she hides herself in the shadows against the bright moonlight. The man fell to the ground, whimpering like a dog with his shaking eyes trying to see from the dark. “Come on, get up. The police station is almost there, you can do it,” she teases him. A low chuckle escaped her mouth as she watch the vehement fear compel him to lift himself up but his knees stood like bags of water. “P-please! Don’t kill me!” the man pleaded, his whole body q

  Ten minutes. They were late for just ten minutes, and the Nightcrawlers managed to keep Mr. Boller’s mouth shut, forever. “Hey,” Iris nudged Max who was staring outside Mr. Boller’s window. The police came in after they received his call and the forensics have already moved Mr. Boller’s body out of the building. “You okay?” Iris asked, trying hard to sound worried. Max faced her and gave a forced smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m sorry, you must have been scared.” “Don’t get me started,” Iris responded, resting her back against the wall beside the window. “If only,” Max’s voice was full of frustration. “If only we came earlier, we could have saved him and catch those bastards.” He sighed sharply. Sorr

    “There are three possibilities behind this photo,” the Chief’s voice echoed on his whole office. Several officers, Max and Iris sat on the couch, all attention gathered to the Chief who was walking back and forth in front of his desk. “First, this woman in the photo did kill the Westons.”   The Chief stopped in front of his desk eyes unfocused and deep in his thoughts. He put both of his hands over the table, leaning to support his balance. “Second, the killer possibly came after her and killed the Westons. And lastly,” the Chief shot a look to Max. “She is an accomplice to the murder.”   Max looked at the bulletin board where they pinned the printed picture of Mr. Weston and the killer. The woman, unfortunately, was standing with her back facing the camera. They could only see her hand with a nude nail polish, a coat covering her body figure, and her dark mid-length hair tied in a ponytail. Sh

   “Iris!” Iris looked at Max who was running towards her, his eyes roaming around the place. “Did you find Ms. Roxanne?” he asked, catching his breath as he stopped from his little marathon, his eyes were angry. He reached for his phone at his back pocket and called someone, Iris was just staring at him blankly. “Hello? She got away! Surround the area and search for every cars within the vicinity now!” he exclaimed through the phone. He looked back again to Iris. “The killer…” he said, exhaling sharply. “Is Ms. Roxanne! I’m such an idiot!” Iris frowned at him, confused of what he said. Max brought out the picture of Mr. Weston and Roxanne and handed it to Iris. “We had the killer right under our noses! And the proof was freaking staring at me the whole time!” he hissed angrily.

    Max’s eyes flew open and he immediately jerked himself up. Iris lowered down the newspaper she was reading when she heard the couch creak, shooting a look at the disarrayed man who just woke up from his deep sleep. Max was blinking at her and squinting his eyes.   “What the fart!! Iri-” Max’s scream was cut off and a flying pillow came slamming his face back to the couch.   “Why the hell are you screaming?!” she hissed, glaring at Max. It was only 6:00 in the morning and the sun hasn’t come up yet to take the sleepiness on Iris’ eyes. She stayed up all night fighting the urge to kill Max and throw his body out of their building so she could lay herself at the couch.   Max pulled himself up again and brushed his face aggressively with his hands. “Iris? What the hell are you doing at my house?!” he yelled and yanked himself off the couch. When he tried to walk, his weak knees wobbled at the we