Chapter 1

I wonder if I’ll ever shake this feeling, this constant weight pressing down on me.

No matter how hard I try, the memories always seem to creep back in—uninvited, unwanted.

Every time... 

I see their faces—my family... or what passed for one.

I can’t escape the past, no matter how many cases I solve or how many times I try to bury it under layers of work.

"Timothy!"

Maybe I’m not cut out for this.

Maybe I should just—

"TIMOTHY!"

I blinked, snapping back to the present as if waking from a dream. 

We were standing in the middle of a crime scene, and I realized I’d completely zoned out. Anton is glaring at me, sharp and impatient...

“Sorry,” I muttered, trying to focus on the task.

Anton’s jaw tightened, and I could see the irritation in his eyes. 

"You’re zoning out again. Thinking about all that negative crap again, I bet. Look, If you’re not up to working today, just say so. I’m not gonna babysit you through this. You wanna skip it? Go home. I’m serious. You’re no good to me if your head’s somewhere else. But don’t half-ass it."

he snapped, his voice low but edged with frustration.

I knew he didn’t mean it in a bad way, even if it came out harsh. That was just Anton—blunt, to the point, and often grumpy. But beneath all that, I knew he cared.

I don’t blame him.

I’ve been zoning out a lot lately, letting my thoughts get the best of me.

“I’m fine,” I said, trying to sound convincing.

“I’m here. I’m working. I just... needed a minute.”

Anton stared at me for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with a shrug, he turns away, muttering under his breath.

“If you say so,” he mumbled, clearly still annoyed but letting it go.

He turned back to the scene, his gloved hands methodically checking for anything we might have missed.

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to focus.

We fall into an uneasy silence as we get back to work. The gruffness in his tone remained, but he didn’t push it any further. That was the thing with Anton—he’d say his piece, and then he’d back off, leaving me to either take his advice or ignore it.

I knew I couldn’t keep doing this—losing myself in negative thoughts, letting the past control me.

But it wasn’t that simple.

The wounds ran deep, and sometimes, they bled without warning.

Still, I was here.

I wasn’t going to skip out, no matter how tempting it was to just walk away from it all.

 I had a job to do.

Anton didn’t say anything more as we worked, but I could feel his presence beside me, a steady reminder that, no matter how much I tried to push people away, there were still those who stuck around.

Even if they didn’t always understand.

As we moved through the crime scene, the weight of Anton’s earlier words hung in the air.

I could feel his eyes on me every so often, like he was waiting for me to slip up again.

It was a quiet tension, the kind that sat heavy in my chest, making it hard to breathe.

We were supposed to be focusing on the evidence, piecing together the clues that would lead us to the truth, but my mind kept tugging at the loose threads of everything else—the things I tried so hard to bury.

We walked around the perimeter of the room, careful not to disturb anything.

Anton handed me a pair of gloves.

"Don’t forget these," he said, his tone more commanding than usual.

I nodded, slipping them on without a word.

It was routine, but today, the simple act of putting on those gloves.

The victim’s lifeless body lay sprawled on the floor, the scene frozen in a moment of violence. Blood splattered the walls, and there was a sharp, metallic scent in the air.

It was grim, but I’d seen worse.

We both had.

Anton was methodical, his movements precise as he examined the surroundings.

I tried to follow his lead, but my thoughts were still a mess, swirling around like a storm I couldn’t calm. I could feel the pull to retreat again, to let my mind drift back to safer territory, where the horrors of my past were almost comforting compared to the reality in front of me.

But I couldn’t afford to lose focus, not here, not now.

“Timothy,” Anton’s voice broke through the silence, but this time, there was no irritation in it, just a calm steadiness. He was pointing to something on the ground—a small, torn piece of fabric caught on a jagged edge of the coffee table.

“What do you make of this?”

I knelt down beside him, forcing myself to concentrate.

The fabric was rough, possibly from a jacket or heavy clothing, dark in color. It was a clue, something that could lead us to the killer, but it was also an anchor—a way to keep myself grounded in the present.

“Looks like it might have come from the suspect’s clothes,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt.

“Could’ve been torn in the struggle.”

Anton nodded.

“We should send it to the lab, and see if we can get anything off it. Could be our first real lead.”

As he carefully bagged the fabric, I stood up, taking in the scene once more.

Something was unsettling about this case, something that nagged at the edges of my mind, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.

“We need to check for the victim’s ID,” I said, my voice more grounded now that I was focused on the investigation.

Anton nodded, and we carefully searched the area around the body.

I found a wallet near the victim’s side, slightly bloodstained but intact.

I opened it, using the edge of my glove to avoid contaminating anything.

Inside, there was a driver’s license, credit cards, and a few bills. The ID showed a man in his late thirties, with a name that matched the apartment records.

I handed it to Anton, who took a quick glance before bagging it as evidence.

"████ ████,” Anton muttered, studying the ID.

“Let’s see if this matches up with what we have on file.”

After noting the details, I slipped the wallet back, careful to avoid disturbing anything else. The name, the face—everything was starting to form a picture, but we were still far from understanding the full story.

Maybe it was just the remnants of my earlier thoughts, clouding my judgment, but I knew better than to ignore my instincts.

“You see something else?”

Anton asked, noticing the way I was staring off into the distance.

I shook my head, more to clear it than to deny his question.

“No, just... thinking.”

Anton didn’t respond, but I could tell he was watching me closely, trying to gauge whether I was really there or if I was about to slip away again.

I wanted to reassure him, tell him that I was fine, that I was focused, but the truth was, I wasn’t sure.  The darkness in my mind was always there, lurking just beneath the surface, waiting for the slightest crack to seep through.

But I couldn’t let it win, not today.

Not while there was work to be done.

I owed it to Anton, to the victim, to myself, to see this through.

We continued our investigation in silence, the only sounds were the occasional click of a camera or the shuffle of our feet on the worn carpet.

Anton carefully removed his gloves, and I did the same.

Now and then, Anton would glance my way, his expression unreadable, but I could sense the concern beneath the gruff exterior.

Finally, after what felt like hours, we wrapped up at the scene.

The next step was always the same: start canvassing the neighborhood.

We needed to gather information about the victim, find out who they were, and determine if anyone might have had a motive.

It was time to ask around—talk to friends, coworkers, and anyone who might provide an alibi. 

As we headed back to the car, the weight of the day settled on my shoulders, heavier than usual. I knew Anton had noticed, but he didn’t say anything, just kept walking beside me, his presence a silent comfort in the midst of the chaos.

When we reached the car, he paused, his hand on the door handle.

He glanced at me, his expression softer than usual.

“You did good today,” he said, his voice softer than before.

“Just... take care of yourself, alright?”

I met his eyes, surprised by the sudden warmth in his tone.

His words caught me off guard.

Anton wasn’t one for emotional displays, but in his own way, this was him reaching out, reminding me that I wasn’t alone in this. 

“Yeah,” I replied, managing a small smile.

“I’ll be fine.”

He nodded, not pressing the issue further.

Once we got into the car, Anton turned to me, his expression focused.

“Alright, first things first. We need to find out more about the victim. Start by asking around, see if anyone knew them, if they had any recent conflicts, and check if they have a alibi for when the murder happened”

I nodded, pulling out my notepad and checking the list of contacts we needed to interview. “Got it. I’ll start with the people who might have been close to them. You handle the coworkers and anyone else we might need to question.”

Anton grunted in agreement as he started the engine.

“Sounds like a plan.”

The End of Chapter 1

To be continued...