I sat with the TV on, but it was just noise. Every little thing reminded me of Kamani. His bed is still in my room, so I have been sleeping on the couch. They have absolutely no idea who the murderer is. This case is going to turn into a dead file, and won't be looked at for six months. I sighed heavily. I took the last sip of my beer, crumpled the can, and threw it. There were 60 calories in that beer. I walked to the bathroom casually. I got down on my knees in front of the toilet, and stuck my fingers down my throat. It was pointless really. The alcohol is what is the calorie. And my whole idea was to get wasted. Wasted away from this pain. At my realization I stopped. What was more important, Being thin or being wasted? I hate these situations. I haven't eaten in three days. And I don't plan on it. Alcohol is where my calorie is coming from. I sighed heavily, picked myself up, and lay back down on the couch. It was 55 degrees in my apartment. I had turned the heat off and opened the window. When it's cold your body burns fat to warm you up. I was in a tank top and basketball shorts. I put a pillow on my face. I cant deal with this anymore. There are a million ways I could kill myself. But I cant do that to Hanson. Little does he know he is the only one keeping me alive. I hadn't noticed how messy my apartment had gotten. Alcohol was everywhere. I had empty lighters, and empty cigarette boxes. I hadn't moved from this couch except to go to the bathroom. I haven't eaten or showered. Just drank and slept. I don't care what happens to me anymore. I deserve this. I do. For everything I have done. I am such a bad person, that's why my family gave me up in the first place. It's because I am unlovable. But Hanson disproves that. After six years of us being apart he still loves me, regardless of how much of a mess I am. Fuller gave me time off, but not Hanson. He doesn't know, and I want to tell him because Hanson needs to get away. I sighed.

There's a knife in the kitchen. There is a million things you can do with a knife. You can make a sandwich. You can pick a lock, carve a piece of wood into a sculpture. You can kill yourself; I have been contemplating this for too long. I'm stuck in a world where your clothes outshine morality. Where the murder of a 7-year-old gets pushed to the end of the line. Where nothing you do ever matters. I closed my eyes and dosed off. Sleeping is the only place I can get away from my problems.

I awoke in consternation. There was a knock on my door. I grabbed my gun and held it tight to my side. "Who's there?" I called out. "Jane, it's fuller." I lowered my gun and opened the door. He looked at me. "Jane, we need to talk." He said. I let him in, then shut the door, and locked all three locks. He sat down on the couch. "Captain I need to tell you something too." I said.


"Its about Hanson."

He looked at me, expecting me to continue

"Umm. Hanson should get some time off." I said.

"Why?" Fuller asked looking me straight in the eye with a questionable stare.

"He, he is Kamani's father." I stuttered.

"What do you mean?"

"We dated back in high school. And well." I said

It was silent. "We didn't want to tell anyone. So, please keep everything on the down low."

Fuller looked at me, silent.

"Jane, I was going threw your file. And came across something, unusual." He said. I looked at him. My heart was going to race out of my chest. Break my ribs and leave me lifeless.

"You were in a psych ward for a while. For attempting suicide, and I just wanted to make sure you were okay." He said.

"Yeah, I'm fine." I said a little to quick.


"I'm hanging in there."

"If you need an ear, I'm here."

"Yeah thanks coach. You came all the way over here to tell me that?"

"I was… in the neighbor hood."

"Why were you in Piedmont?"

"What? Cant a captain check on his officers?"

"Yeah, I guess. I would have done the same for you"

"There's something else. We have the person who killed your son in custody."


"Remember that case you did, where the teacher was forcing Acid down kids throats?"


"Well, someone took him out of jail to go to a funeral, and he killed your son."

I was silent, unsure how to respond. My son. My baby boy, dead because of a person I put to jail. A person that I arrested, because he was killing teenagers, so in revenge, he decided to kill my son. Why? He had nothing to do with the case. But Kamani's murder wasn't about Kamani. It was so Mr. Wyatt, the teacher, could hurt me. And the way he did happened to end a life. An innocent, small, life. I sat next to Fuller, tears in my eyes. I grabbed the phone from my side and dialed for Jump Street.

"Hoffs." Said Judy.

"Hey Jud, it's Jane, can you put Hanson on the phone."

"Yeah hold on."


"Hey Hanson, it's Jane. Can you come to my place? I need to talk to you."

"Yeah. I'll be there in a sec."

He hung the phone up. "I want to tell him in person captain."

"I understand"

We waited silently. I am not going to tell Fuller about Hanson and I currently. That would make things worse. If I told Fuller anything going on in my head, it would make things worse. I'm going to go back to work tomorrow. I need to get out of this apartment, before I do some real damage to myself. Like I said, Hanson is the only reason I have for living.

To me Hanson is so perfect. His eye's are like an abyss that the small shattered pieces of my broken heart can get lost in. When He wraps his arms around me I can feel his protection. His lips generate all of the love from his heart into me. Tom is the one who stopped me from killing myself. He found me in an ally, with a revolver in my hands. I was flipping in my hands, looking at my reflection. I had sat there with it for an hour before he found me. That's when I was sent to the psych ward. The thing is, I wasn't mad at Hanson. I couldn't be. He was trying to help. I could never kill myself after that, because I would never want to cause Tom pain. He is my everything. The only one I had, and the only one I have. Sure I have Jump Street, but there isn't the deep bond that we have. What Hanson and I have is beautiful. And no one can take it away. I love Hanson, with every ounce of energy inside of me. I would do anything for him. I mean anything.

Soon enough the knock on the door I have been expecting came. I got up and opened it. He looked at me, and the saw Fuller in the background. He knew not to act like we were dating.

"Hey Captain." He said

"Hanson." Said Fuller empathetically. He paused.

"Hanson, take some time off."

Hanson stared at the ground. It was dead silent. I put my head up, holding back the tears until I was alone.

"Kamani's killer was Mr. Wyatt." Fuller broke.

Hanson's head shot up. He looked at me, then back at Fuller. "He did it to get back at Jane for busting him. We have a full statement."

Hanson looked up. That was his way of holding back tears. He didn't like crying, it didn't make him feel better. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse. He cleared his throat. "Where is he being held now?"

"The county prison. He may or may not get away with insanity."

Hanson scratched his head he was fidgety.

"I'm sorry about your loss guys. I am here if you need anything. I have to get back to the chapel. Both of you take some time off." Fuller said, pulling on his coat. He left the apartment without a sound.

Hanson came over, and wrapped his arms around me. We both bursted into a tearful symphony, a rain of pain and fear came from our lips as we tried to hold it together for each other. But it doesn't work that way. You end up breaking yourself apart. Hanson balled his fists in my hair and held me close to his body. I sat on his lap and straddled him. The gesture wasn't meant to be sexual, but more for myself. I had to be close to him, as close as possible. My legs were wrapped around his waist. He cried weakly into my shoulder. Yet his tears were a signification of strength. I looked at him, his tears glistening off his cheek. I kissed them away while my own were streaming down into tiny pools on his cheek. I made my way to his lips. When he kissed me, you could feel the pain behind his movements. And I was sure he could feel the pain behind mine. Yet that's what brought us close, our pain. Pain brings you closer to those experiencing it. He found his way to my neck, then near my collarbone. Nuzzling at the bone. He ran his hands around my body. Feeling every inch of my cotton Tank Top, until finally he reached the bottom, and lifted it off of me ever so lightly. He threw it aside somewhere. The sexual intercourse that was about to take place wasn't out of arousal, but out of pain, to bring each other closer. I knotted my hands in his hair as he kissed up my neck. Tears were still forming in our eyes as we held each other close.

I lifted up his black undershirt off of his cold skin. The room was still cold, but he didn't comment. He undid my bra, holding me close to him. It fell to floor somewhere. Still straddled on him, I unbuttoned his jeans. They were tight against him. My hand found its way down the elastic of his drawers, and gripped the large member. A small moan came from Hanson. I have no idea what I am doing. "What's wrong," he whispered gently into my ear.

"I have no idea what I am doing." I responded, the exact words that had strung across my mind.

"It's okay Jane," He said. I pulled his pants off, and I could feel his boner against my thigh. I don't own any protection; I didn't think I would need it. Finally he took off my shorts. He didn't hestitate to take off my underwear as well. Still straddle on him, I whispered into his ear, "Hanson, I don't have any condoms or anything."

He was silent for a minute. I guess I ruined his plans.

"I wont do that." He said

We lay there together, holding each other close. We had stopped crying, but pain was still there.

Kamani's death gave me reason to die…