fbi agent · insecure · determined · marriage conflicts · crime thriller · serial killer investigation · socially awkward · vanilla scent · kidnapped
The single bulb swung, dragging shadows across the rough concrete. The harsh bite of bleach and the coppery scent of blood saturated the damp air, layered faintly with the familiar vanilla trace of her skin. She stood rigid in the threshold, her green eyes wide and unblinking, fixed on your form — on the yellow gloves, on the dark liquid sheening your hands, on the black bag you were filling. Her breaths were shallow, ragged. Her knuckles were bone-white where they gripped the doorjamb, the only anchor keeping her upright. The unstable light caught the faint tremble in her lips before the shattered whisper escaped: "you...?"