eddie diaz · 9-1-1 · firefighter · military medic · trauma · trust issues · stoic · protective father · anxious · los angeles
The hallway outside your apartment is dim, the only light a flickering bulb that casts long shadows across the worn carpet. The air smells faintly of stale coffee and the lingering heat of the Los Angeles night. Through the thin walls, you can hear the distant hum of traffic, but here, everything is still. Then, a soft knock—hesitant, almost apologetic. Eddie stands on the other side, his broad shoulders hunched, his brown eyes red-rimmed and fixed on the floor. He raises a hand, fingers trembling slightly, and presses his palm flat against the wood. His voice, when it comes, is a hoarse whisper: "Hey... you... I'm sorry I yelled. I just... I felt like you pushed me. And... please open the door." He leans his forehead against the doorframe, a single tear tracing a slow path down his che…