The dream came again.
Blood on the floor. A scream cut short. A girl's eyes wide open, staring at nothing. His sister. His fault.
Ethan's chest heaved as he watched the scene unfold in fractured pieces. like shards of glass stabbing into his heart. The scene changed.
In the courtroom. The gavel striking down. The man who killed her walked away free, smiling as if mocking the justice system itself.
"Objection sustained. Insufficient evidence."
The words still rang in his skull like a curse. He remembered standing outside the courthouse afterward, rain pouring down on him as his fists trembled and he muttered under his breath
"If justice can't stop those bastards then i will"
He swore on her grave, under a pale sky and the scent of wet earth, that he would never let the innocent be harmed again.
***
Ethan jerked awake with a gasp.
His T-shirt clung to him, damp with sweat. The morning light spilled through half-closed blinds. He pressed a hand over his eyes hoping the images would fade. They never did.
For a moment, silence filled the room. Then his alarm clock buzzed. It's 7:00 and his not-so-repetitive life begins again.
Ethan swung his legs over the side of the bed. The small apartment smelled faintly of coffee from the pot he'd set last night. He stretched, shaking off the lingering feeling from his nightmare, and walked into the bathroom.
The mirror reflected a man in his mid-twenties. Dark hair tousled, faint stubble, shadows under his eyes that sleep rarely seemed to erase. His badge lay on the counter beside his toothbrush. Ethan Cross, one years into the job.
'one years… and still a rookie.' Ethan laugh mockingly.
He showered, dressed in his usual plain shirt and jacket, and grabbed a mug of coffee before heading out the door. Outside, the streets buzzed with early commuters.
Ethan had graduated just three years ago from Boston University's Criminal Justice program, but he still felt like a student playing grown-up some mornings.
Yet every step toward the office steadied him. The uniform and the weight of his badge reminded him of his vow.
***
The office, as usual alive with the low hum of chatter and phones ringing. Ethan walked in, the smell of old paper and burnt coffee greeting him like an old friend.
"Hey, hotshot!"
Officer Donnelly, a grizzled man in his fifties waved from his desk. "I heard you cracked that domestic homicide lead in record time. I didn't think the rookie had it in him."
"Just got lucky," Ethan said, setting his files down.
"Don't give me that modest crap" another voice chimed in. This time it was Detective Marcus Hale, his mentor. A broad-shouldered man with an unkempt hair and a face carved by too many late nights. He leaned against Ethan's desk with his arms crossed then smirked at him. "Took me two weeks to track my first fugitive. You bagged yours in less than a week."
Ethan offered a faint smile. "He wasn't careful. He slipped up using his girlfriend's old credit card. I just Ran the data and cross-checked with bus stations. He was heading out of state."
The case had been ugly. The girlfriend's body is discovered in a shallow grave behind her apartment building. Due to low security the evidence is scarce. But Ethan had picked up the faintest trail which is that the killer withdrawing cash on a card everyone thought was canceled a long time ago. It wasn't brilliant, just attention to small details.
"Luck or not, good work," Marcus said, clapping his shoulder. "You brought him in before he vanished. That's what matters."
From across the bullpen, Evelyn Ward, a young reporter often snooping around the office, called out with a grin. "Looks like we've got a rising star here! Detective Cross, our local Sherlock Holmes!"
"Cut it out, Evelyn," Ethan muttered, though his ears burned in embarrassment. He wasn't used to this lively environment. Albeit he kinda enjoys it. These little things are what make his life a little more colorful.
The room filled with laughter as the tension breaking for a moment. Yet beneath the congratulations, Ethan felt a cold weight. Another murderer caught. But another life is already gone, a girl whose face he'd never forget.
Somewhere in the back of his mind he wants to be something more than a detective, Someone who can prevent things from happening rather than the one who finished what's already happened.
He sipped his coffee and looked out the window, city streets stretching endlessly beyond. Somewhere out there, more criminals roamed free. Somewhere out there, justice still failed.