A Letter To My Love & Chapter 1

My love

I fucked up. I fucked up real bad. I broke a promise I made to you the moment I got down on one knee. And I'm so very sorry. I'm really sorry.

Her name is Nicole. She came to buy seeds, and even though I didn't plan on entertaining her advances at me, her interest in the farm and her smile kept out talk going. She had this bright ginger hair, these green eyes so ***** I could read her soul. She wore a grey hoodie and some faded jeans; she stood at 5'4"; she was petite, but I could tell she had breasts to die for; the jeans were probably a 28. She was really pretty, my love

But that didn't make me sleep with her. Far from it. Pretty girls came by the farm all the time. There was something different about her though. It took me a while to figure it out, but when I did, it hit like a ton of bricks. She was you, my love. Well…  not you you. But she reminded me of you. She made me think of you. When she paid for the seeds, I thought of you. When I asked her out, I thought of you. When I lied to Luqa about my leaving early, I thought about you. When she kissed me in my car, I thought about you. Even when I fucked her… I thought about you.

I did it for us. I'm truly sorry for it, believe me I am. But I know you'll forgive me. I know you'll realise that all of this was a mistake. A screw up. I know you'll understand. Because you love me. And I you.

......…🌻…......

1.

"Would you like something to drink, Nicole?" I ask her. We've been in the interrogation room for over an hour now. Roman's shift ends soon, and he gets really cranky about going home on time. He's sitting next to me, holding his freshly sharpened pencil in one hand and a sketchpad in the other. We both sit accros the table from Nicole, who's had her head facing down since she got here. Roman taps impatiently at his notepad, and the almost rhythemic taps are loud in the silence. Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap. I touch his wrist, forcing him to stop, earning a grimace in return. He hasn't been very helpful in getting an answer out of her. Maybe she's uncomfortable having a man present in the room. But he's the only detective here since Courtney went on maternity leave. Damn kids. This whole procedure has left me thirsty, so making Roman leave to get us both a coffee might inspire her to talk to me while he's away. Roman must've noticed my intentions as he's gotten even more impatient, practically pleading to leave the room.

He's never liked the loud silence. So the past 3 victims we've brought in have tortured him. Nicole might be the worst of them all though. At least the others (Selina, Akhona and Sarah) were able to answer basic questions before the more confrontational questions forced them into a silence so bad, they all ended up breaking down. Nicole, on the other hand, didn't even willingly bring herself here. Her sister did. Her sister texted me the night before pleading with me to meet her, hoping I would get an answer our of her; but she hasn't said anything to me since she was dropped off at the station, much to Roman's dismay.

As soon as he's convinced she's not in the mood for day old coffee or water, he's gone. That leaves me alone with her. I take out a pack of Nkosi's cigarettes from my pocket. He won't mind if one is missing. I've been meaning to make him stop anyway. I've grown sick of kissing him with the scent of nauseating tobacco on his tongue. "Would you like a smoke?" More silence. Tough crowd. She hasn't moved from her chair or looked up at me since she arrived. Her hair is a beautiful Auburn, like the leaves of maple trees in autumn Canada. Even though her face is hidden, I can make out a sad colourless face with near-matching pale blue eyes. They could be mistaken for grey if they aren't paid enough attention. She's wearing a grey hoodie that's seen better days and jeans she hoped she wouldn't need to iron.

I can't tell what's making her uncomfortable. Is my pantsuit intimidating? Am I not friendly enough? Maybe it's because she's not as ready to about her… incident as she was last night. She was only raped a couple weeks ago. The events might still be fresh in her mind. Rape. I play the word in my head over and over. It's as ugly as it's meaning. It's uncomfortable to say–to think. And here I am worrying about my looks making my company feel uneasy. Talking about it is uneasy. It means reliving the past events, with the hopes that some stranger with a funny badge will help you find justice. It doesn't always go well. Sonetimes you might sit through countless interrogation rooms and more courtrooms only for the perpetrator to get a slap on the wrist and a Twinkie. Nicole might have realised that the minute she stepped in this room.

I notice her rub her left sleeve with her right hand. "Would you like me to turn of the A/C?" I ask her. She almost immediately stops rubbing her sleeve, but not before I see it. A wave of relief, anger, dispair hit me all at once. She sees what happens to me, but just as she lifts her head, showing signs of a response, maybe a confession, something, Roman re-enters the room with 2 coffees and a water in hand. He hides the apparent frustration with a brief smile, before walking to Nicole, who has her head facing her sneakers again, and hands her the bottle of water. She looks terrified of his action as she practically jumps from her seat, startling Roman. "I'd like to go home now" she says, and she's out of the door before I can stop her.

****, I think

"****" Roman mutters. He hands me my coffee and sits in her empty chair. "We can't keep doing this, Rae. None of these victims want to open up. They won't say shit. And Redhead almost made me spill my coffee." He has a point. We can't keep bringing in victims every week. It clearly hasn't been effective. Except for one thing. "Yeah, you're right. We can't. But she was more helpful to this investigation than she'll ever know. I've noticed a pattern, Roman."

"Go on."  He prods me to explain further. And I do. "All of these girls have marks on their wrists. Similar marks. That's why they wear these jackets or hoodies when they come here. It's not because the A/C is freezing. It's because they have scars. Scars they're disgusted of, Roman. Scars they can't even look at themselves." "Okay, but what kind of mark is this? And why do they all have it? Does that mean there really is a serial rapist out here?" "I can't really make it out. But now I definitely know it's a serial rapist. I think we've got something here Roman."

He studies my determination for a second before he responds. "Okay then. But we still a need a name and a  face to sketch, Rae. And right now we don't even have a hair fibre to sample. I have to home now. But keep me updated if anything comes up, okay?"

I sigh, but since his shift is done anyway, I let him go. I remove my phone from my pocket to find 3 missed calls and 18 texts from Nkosi. I hate that our new schedules means we spend less time together, but I love it more when he misses me. He puts in a little more effort when I get home. With that in mind, I decide to make him wait a while longer by going to see my mom.

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