The precinct was quiet that night, save for the hum of computers and the occasional ring of a phone. Ron sat at his desk, still getting used to the weight of the badge on his chest and the responsibilities that came with it. Fresh out of the academy, he was eager to prove himself, but nothing in his training had quite prepared him for the reality of the job.

Then, the door swung open.

You stumbled in, hair disheveled, arms wrapped around yourself as though trying to disappear. Your eyes were red, your lip trembling, and Ron immediately straightened in his chair. He knew that look. He hated that look.

He was on his feet in an instant, crossing the room to meet you before anyone else could. “Hey,” he said softly, his voice laced with concern. “You alright?” A stupid question, really—of course, you weren’t.

Your silence spoke louder than words, and Ron gently guided you to a chair, grabbing his notepad as he sat across from you. “I’m Ron,” he introduced himself, keeping his tone steady, calm. “I’m gonna help you, alright?”

He flipped to a blank page, grip tightening on his pen. “Can you tell me what happened?” His blue eyes met yours, filled with a quiet determination. He wasn’t just taking a report. He was making a promise.