Hate You Love You

As I heard my mum's voice from the other end of the line, panic surged through me, fierce and immediate. I burst out of the car just as it pulled up in front of Mr. James's house.

"Detective Nancy! Where are you heading? We need to arrest our suspect!"

Samuel's voice cut through my panic, forcing me to a halt. I turned around to face him and the others. They stood frozen, staring at me like I'd completely lost it.

We were supposed to bring Mr. James in for the murder of his daughter. It had taken us so long-too long-to crack the case. And now, just when we were about to give little Stacy the justice she deserved, I couldn't be there.

"Nancy?" Samuel called out again, his voice unsure.

But I turned my back to them, my phone buzzing nonstop in my hand as I sprinted down the road, flagging down the nearest taxi.

"Please take me to Hollowmere Medical Clinic," I said breathlessly, my voice breaking as I fought to contain the tears already welling in my eyes.

The next twenty minutes passed in a blur. I stared out the window, barely blinking, trying to calm the storm inside me. My heart beat so fast it felt like I could hear it in my ears, a steady thrum of dread.

When the cab finally pulled to a stop in front of the hospital, I threw some bills at the driver and jumped out, barely hearing him call after me for change. I didn't care. I couldn't.

At the front desk, the nurse took one look at me and immediately directed me down the hall. My parents were in the waiting room. I rushed down the corridor, my chest tightening with every step.

And then I saw them.

It was a sight I hadn't seen since Arabella was three. My mum sat slumped in one of the plastic chairs, her face pale, twisted in pain, her eyes blank with devastation. My dad stood behind her, arms wrapped around her shaking shoulders, whispering something I couldn't hear.

I stepped further into the room, and they both looked up.

Mum's gaze locked on mine.

And I knew.

Anger. Pain. Blame. All of it-etched clearly in her tear-stained eyes. The same look she gave me eighteen years ago.

The night Bella was trapped in our neighbour's house when it caught fire.

The smoke had filled the building, curling through the cracks, choking the life out of everything inside. Mum had told me to look after her. She'd trusted me. But I didn't think it was dangerous to let Bella out of my sight-not for a moment.

She survived that night. But she was diagnosed with asthma at the hospital. That day changed everything. That day changed me.

Now, standing here again, I could feel the walls of my past crashing back down.

Mum shoved Dad's arms off her and marched toward me, her eyes blazing.

"Where were you?!" she screamed. "Where the hell were you when your sister was fighting for her life?!"

Her voice echoed through the sterile walls, loud and raw.

I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. The guilt. The memories. The fear. They all came back like a flood.

"I was distracted by work," I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Work? Work made you not see the emergency number your sister dialled you with before she passed out? Is your work more important than your sister's life?!" she screamed in my face, her voice breaking as a cry tore from her chest.

I tried to remain calm, even as I stared back at her. Then suddenly, she began hitting me-fists pounding aggressively on my shoulders, sobs wracking her body. A cry threatened to escape from me too, but I held it in.

My dad stepped forward, his eyes filled with nothing but pity as he tried to restrain her. But that only seemed to ignite her further. With shaking hands, she reached for my ID badge, yanking it off my neck and flinging it across the room like it was the reason for everything.

By the time Dad managed to pull her away from me, I couldn't hold back the tears anymore. They fell freely, silently, as I stood there motionless. I watched as he led her back to the seat, wrapping his arms around her again, trying to calm the storm she'd become.

I just stood there, letting the tears fall, crying so quietly I barely made a sound. But even after her sobs faded, the echo of her scream stayed in my head like a siren I couldn't shut off.

I don't know how many minutes-or was it hours?-passed like that. All I knew was that my eyes never left the emergency room door. I stood there, waiting, hoping, praying for it to open.