Olivia Webb

The Cracked Mirror

When the sting finally hit me, I knew I had been clipped; at that moment my wife’s beautiful face, which constantly haunted my memories, flashed across my mind. She had always begged me repeatedly to make safe choices and to return to her unharmed. Being a homicide detective, there are many things in my past that I have seen and done. Over the years, murder cases have lead me farther and farther from home. In this line of work, one wrong choice could end you. Now, I find myself lying on wet cobblestones, peering into the glassy waters of the vast darkness in the merciless ocean. Only a dim streetlight, nine or so steps away, could be seen cutting through the shadowy, gloom of nightfall displaying the bloody scene below. The intense pain surging through my head is no joke; rather it is an illusive memory to which I would love to forget, but unfortunately not possible just yet. I can feel myself slipping away into the darkness, which is engulfing my every miserable and intense breath I breathe. I didn’t want the darkness to over take me, but with what had happened today, and the events of moments ago changed everything.