Work Text:
Neera runs into her fathers office, it was raining that night, the distant white noise droning outside.
Father was leaning over his table, his eyes darting across the pages frantically, like if he was any slower, he’d miss the picture.
Neera remembered that fear he had, that maddening smile, those heavy eyes bags so vividly,
Her father shot up, didn’t even pick up he pushed her daughter aside as he marched to front door. Neera rubbed her head, back soft and swollen. She cried that night; she cried for many reasons. Her father’s negligence, the pain that rooted across her head and that… later on, her father had died. An officer kneeled to her level, but she couldn’t speak, stunned. Her father was gone, dead. Like the wolf from Little Red Riding Hood her father read to her when he could. His deep, gentle voice, a little laughter and a little fear mixed into the tone as he read to her by her bed. She giggled when he made funny voices, he always made time for her despite his schedule… Now that won’t happen. Neera heard someone wail, loud and screechy, it hurt her ears, it made her shiver. Even the rain couldn’t drown her wallowing. The grief of an orphan raw and painful. A paramedic put a hand around her shoulder, lead her to the ambulance to treat her wounded scalp. ‘Shh darling’ she whispers rubbing her back and handing her a cup of tea. She looks down at the drink, big fat tears drop in. The nurse sighs mumbling her pity and easing the cup away from Neera’s little fingers, the sound of rain droning around her, loud. Deafening.
Neera wipes her tears with the sleeve of shirt and sniffs. She mustn’t cry, not now. She clenches her fists and takes a deep breath focusing her attention back to the case at hand. She reads the case file in her hand, another missing report… She sighs reading the details of the new unfortunate case, Norman, aged two. A little boy with a teethless smile looked at her, its crystal eyes beaming unaware of the danger would face. Neera’s heart clenches, no matter how many years she’s been a government detective, she never could desensitize herself when it came to children… She couldn’t, no, didn’t want to imagine what little Norman and the piling cases of missing children were doing. Zain, Adam, Riley, Sofie, Candy… and so on. The scenes these children were last seen were baren of evidence. Not a footprint or scent behind; as if it never happened. Neera puts Norman on the stack, leans against her chair and filling her lungs with stuffy office oxygen. She closed her eyes and tried focus on slowing her heartbeat.
‘Neera?’