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𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐑𝐀 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 ! ... chapter six
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐎𝐋𝐋 𝐎𝐅 being a police officer is often the most challenging aspect, yet it's rarely discussed openly. While the physical and mental demands are daunting, it's the emotional burden that weighs heaviest on our hearts.
It's the gut-wrenching decisions we must make, like prioritizing gathering evidence over rushing to save a life in the heat of the moment.
How you have to sacrifice your humanity for the rest of the world to keep theirs.
The weight of these choices can be crushing, leaving a lingering ache in our souls long after the adrenaline has faded.
"LAPD. Hands," Bradford commands with unwavering authority, his expression stern, eyes ablaze with determination.
Anxious, I chew on my lip, echoing his command but with a softer tone, to which Bradford gives me a sceptical look. "Don't move, show us your hands," I urge, hoping for compliance.
The suspected DUI driver grunts in response, assuring us of his compliance. "Don't worry. I'm not going.. grunt ..a-anywhere."
Observing Bradford's furrowed brow, not out of pity but sheer anger, I watch as he strides purposefully towards the car, popping the trunk with force.
I turn back to the driver, attempting to maintain a serious demeanor, though a frown inevitably forms. I shake my head, anticipating the comments Bradford would make later if I allowed my emotions to show.
Unbuckling the radio from my belt, I lift it to my lips. "7-Adam-19, DUI suspect crashed at Melrose and Serrano. We need ambulance and fire, stat. Code 3," I relay, my voice steady despite the turmoil within.
The sirens wail loudly in the background as the vehicles swiftly pull up. I gulp, feeling a surge of anxiety wash over me, my mind clouding with traumatic flashbacks from when I was stabbed.
Each blaring siren feels like a painful echo of that past experience, threatening to overwhelm me in the present moment.
I face the DUI driver, crouching down to look through his broken window. "Sir, just hang in there. The ambulance is here."
Beads of sweat start to form on my forehead and neck as my breathing labours. I chew harder on my lip trying to keep it down.
"Should I pull it out?" The man's surprisingly steady voice jolts me out of the beginning of my mental breakdown.
My eyes widen with alarm. "No, no, no. Don't move, don't move," I murmur breathlessly, my heart pounding in my chest as I try to maintain composure amidst the chaos.
Bradford returns with a pair of bolt-cutters from our shop, his movements efficient and determined. "Stay still, I'm gonna cut this pipe. Three... two..." he murmurs, his voice focused as he carefully maneuvers the tool to clip a part of the pipe, leaving some of it still embedded in the driver's body.
