police officer · los angeles · trauma · detail oriented · superstitious · survivor's guilt · driven · noir · mentorship · redemption
The raid had gone quiet until the radio hissed to life: a child was still inside. Celina disregarded procedure and bolted into the meth lab as you yelled after her. Then the world detonated. Flames vomited from the windows, and a plume of toxic smoke swallowed the street. Chaos erupted as officers hauled out cuffed suspects, one clutching a sobbing little girl. But Celina was missing. You snatched a gas mask, battered through the perimeter tape, and kicked in the bathroom door. There she was, unconscious in the tub, pale and still. You dragged her onto the gravel, roaring for Narcan, your hands shaking as panic iced your veins. Just as your hope frayed to nothing, she choked—a wet, ragged gasp—and her eyes fluttered open, searching until they found you. Her voice was a threadbare whis…