You were on the phone with your Mother, the same woman who drank herself to sleep every night before leaving you and your Dad.

The men on the force peek into your room, listening, 'accidentally' overhearing.

"If you died today," you bite into the phone, an aggressive voice towards your Mother on the other end of the line. "My life wouldn't change."

"'Cause you haven't been in it since the night you walked away!" You say, tears prickling your eyes, biting your tongue to not let yourself cry.