Coming into view were two men, both dressed in untidy dress shirts, dark suit pants and black brown lace shoes. Pulled into their belts were badges, and a holstered gun each.

I should have anticipated their arrival at some point. I already assumed what they wanted, what they needed, information on what had happened during the night.

"Jasmine Wright?" The shorter man to the left looked to me, his eyes a deep brown, his skin to match

I nodded "Yes"

"My name is detective Isaia Woods, this is my partner Dawson James, we would like to talk to you about what happened last night, if that's okay?"

I wasn't particularly interested in reliving the nightmare events, speaking of them in such detail yet, but I needed to, for Tony, so I nodded again

Monica took this as her cue, leaving me alone with the detectives. Isaia Woods pulled up the chair Claire had previously been seated on, flipping out a notebook and pen from his back pocket, ready

Eye to eye, I readied myself for his questions, clasping my hands together on my thighs.

Looking to his notebook, he began scrawling the date and time down, his pure gold wedding band glistening against the sun now directly balanced outside my window.

Briefly I glanced up, the other detective, Dawson James, stood at the foot of the bed, his arms crossed over his chest, his sleeves pushed roughly to his elbows. He didn't make eye contact with me, instead, his hazel gaze narrowed on his partner. He appeared younger, younger than his sidekick with a pen. I began to wonder which one of them was in charge, both appearing to be authoritative within their behaviours and intimidating build.

"Okay, so if at any point you feel you need a break, just let me know" Isaia began gently before continuing

Isaia Woods asked me an assortment of routine questions. What time I entered the store, why I entered the store, what happened in detail from the moment I stepped into the store. Every detail counted for something, every inch of memory I had for the night being a possible lead to find Tony's killers.

I kept my hands still in my lap, my eyes either on my hands or briefly glancing to the detective who scrawled vigorous notes.

I cringed when it came to explaining how Tony had been shot, his body falling to the ground behind the counter. I cringed more in regards to what had happened to Tony, than I did when I had explained my own assault. The more I thought about it, the more angry it made me. These people had taken an innocent man, doing his job from his family, for no good reason. They were selfish and mean and I couldn't stand the idea of them being out on the streets free for what they had done.

"They wore black, head to toe, they had their hoodies over their faces but when it went crazy, they fell, I saw.. I saw their faces" I remembered the men as I could "Blue eyes, they looked related in some way, brothers maybe"

"That's great Jasmine, that's great" Isaia scribbled the information down "Do you think you could remember them enough to work with a sketch artist?"

The incident had happened so fast, so quick that I'd barely had time to recognise what was happening. What if I remembered features that were wrong? What if my mind was making things up?

I closed my eyes as I dropped my head, and in that split second the images of a pair of piercing blue eyes glared towards me. Instinctively my eyes shot open, my body shuddering.

"Jasmine?" Isaia put a defensive hand up, his eyes firmly on mine, his partner taking a step toward me

"Yes" I nodded firmly "Yes, I remember them, I can do it" Even through the terrifying images that haunted my mind, I would push through to ensure these men would find justice. I couldn't let them get away with what they had done. They deserved to be placed inside a concrete cell without windows for what they had done to Tony.

"Okay, good, that's good Jasmine" Isaia nodded, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder, his eyes making contact with mine "We're going to find out who did this, and we're going to do everything in our power to have them put away for what they have done" He tried to assure me.

It was somewhat comforting, but I knew that these kinds of crimes could sometimes take years to uncover, even if they were uncovered at all.

I was the only witness, I was the only one who knew the curves of their jawlines, the deadly glare within their ice cold murderous gaze. This case, Tony's case, heavily relied upon my account, my memories and that was completely unnerving.

"I'll have someone contact you tomorrow, we can then arrange to have you taken to HU to meet with a sketch artist" Isaia informed me, closing his notepad.

I nodded, releasing a sigh.

"Get a good night sleep, it'll help" He told me as he stood, stuffing his notepad back into its place in his back pocket.

If it weren't for the circumstance I was sitting in a hospital bed, talking with homicide detectives, I would have laughed at his suggestion. Sleep was not something that came easily to me, it hadn't been for years, and now, I feared it would only become worse.

Thanking me for my baseline information, the two detectives left, both seemingly leaving me an apologetic glance before exiting my space.

This was what I was going to have to get used to, all over again. Sympathy. I hated being looked at as though I were a wounded soldier. Yes, I had endured something only few ever had in the form of death and violence, but I was not weak, I was not incapable of living through it without having the psychotic break everyone anticipated.

By late afternoon, the doctor had seen to me that I would be most comfortable and better rested released and able to head home. I was relieved.

With strict instructions to rest and take care of my mind and body, I found myself eagerly seated in the back of a taxi, headed home.

It was a bitter sweet feeling. I would soon be able to lie in my own bed, take a warm shower, appreciate the little things in life that I still had left to enjoy, all the while Tony now lie in a morgue, awaiting an autopsy to be used as evidence against his attackers. His family would be torn to shreds, exhausted and broken from the news of their loved ones violent end.

Why had I survived and Tony had not? What kind of God was responsible for having left me, a loner to live, whilst stripping a complete family of their backbone?

It didn't make sense, it never would.

I kept my head low as I exited the taxi, moving through my apartment complex, up the stairs and through floor eight's hallway. I didn't want to give a single person enough time to notice and ask about my appearance, the blood. I wasn't ready, I wasn't prepared for what I would tell them.

Sliding the key into my apartment door, I entered hastily with a push. The silence, the linen scent of my washing powder overtook me, comforting me. It was time to begin my healing process, one thought, one emotion at a time.

As it had with my father, it began with a shower, a warm shower that hid the hot sticky tears that I allowed to escape. I braced my palms against the tiles, water rushing down my spine, over my neck, careful not to dampen my new injury.

When I closed my eyes, I was overtaken with both tears, and images. The darkness behind my eyelids was shattered by the etched memories of Tony, flashes of gunfire, flashes of the ice cold blue eyes darting in my direction. I winced and snapped open back to reality, staring at the wall in front of me, controlling my breathing.

By nightfall, I could feel my exhausted body move in delay. I knew sleep would not come easy, but I also knew that I needed to try. Tomorrow I was due back at school, 4 hours from 7am, and work soon there shortly after.

My previous night had been futile, broken in pattern and disturbed by the scuttle of nurses and shrill electronic machine rhythms. Tonight would be silent, comfortable, within my own bubble of space. I hoped that would help.

•

The buzzing of my alarm began to crawl it's way in through my ears, into my brain. It made me dizzy, the ache of my injured temple throbbing throughout my face, my eyes, my bones.

Groaning, I leaned forward and pulled my phone from its place beside me, silencing the bright alarm. 6am.

Rubbing my eyes, I lifted my body carefully up, cringing when my head argued back, my ears ringing. I couldn't let it win, I couldn't let the pain win, if I let the pain win, I let the men who had inflicted it on me win.

Slowly, I prepared myself for school.

Dressing in jeans and a knitted oversized black jumper, I hesitated before leaving my wardrobe, my reflection in the small mirror beside my body stopping me.

The bandage remained on my temple, it would raise questions, it wasn't exactly subtle.

Searching through my drawers, I'd found an old baseball cap, pulling it tightly, but carefully over my forehead, tucking in the bandage the best I could. For extra measure, I released my hair out, the brown thick strands falling beside my face, ending at level with my collarbones.

Satisfied with my appearance, I exited the apartment with my necessary books tucked into my handbag.

The moment I entered the bustling halls, I was thankful I had taken precautionary pain relief before leaving home, the noises around me somewhat already itching at my head trauma. I kept my head low as I made my way to class, I didn't want to make eye contact with a single soul, I didn't want to talk about what I had been through, I was not ready to handle the emotions of what came with it.

I breathed a sigh of relief when I had made it to my seat unscathed by social interaction. But making it to class had only been half the battle.

I began setting my books in front of me, flicking open my slim laptop. With my face held low on the screen, I tapped in my password, opening the light dull wallpaper of my father and I.

I became stuck for a moment, staring into the memory as it flashed behind my eyes in motion and colour. My mind was elsewhere, focused on the day dad and I shared at the observatory together, that I hadn't noticed a body appear crouched beside my seat. A small tap against my wooden desk jolted me back to reality, my heart racing.

"Jasmine?" It was Jessica Miles, Jessie, my science of astronomy professor, she was looking over my face with an unreadable expression, sympathy perhaps "I do admire your resilience to be here, I do, but you should be at home recovering"

I was caught off guard, how did know what had happened? My mouth opened to speak, but I was unsure of what to say

"It was on the news" She had answered for me, her hand reaching for my shoulder gently "I'm so sorry Jasmine, what an awful ordeal to have to go through"

I looked up to Jessie, she had known my father, they had worked together, she had been a massive factor for me getting into the difficult course. Despite her sympathetic soft green eyes, I couldn't be annoyed with her.

"I spoke with the director this morning about what had happened, we were not expecting you to be back for some time, under the circumstances we can place your course on what's called a freeze period-.."

"I.." My lips cut her sentence off, panicked "I don't want to stop coming, I don't want to fall behind, I need to be here, I'm fine I promise" I tried to sound as casual as I could, but even I could hear my own voice falter

"Jasmine.." This time, her gaze and sentence had been cut off by another body entering our space

Jessie concentrated on the words spoken in he ear for a moment before turning back to me

"It seems you're wanted in the office by a pair of visitors" She told me, guiding my upwards with her hands