I woke up in the company of a pounding headache.

Under my eyelids, I had the memory of the stupid thing I did the night before, and every time I blinked, I saw it: Cas approaching, and me standing there, ruining two long years of abstinence.

Shit.

I got out of bed grumbling, as if I were accusing the aftermath of an epic hangover. I wasn't drunk the night before. Just insane.

I dragged myself into the bathroom attached to my room and took a shower. Then I applied the first layer of sunscreen for the day and stood in front of the mirror to fill in my eyebrows.

I dyed my hair highlighter blue every four weeks, but it wouldn't make sense to dye my eyebrows; they'd grow back too fast. So, I used a mix of pencil and eyeshadow to make them appear a very light hazel, and slightly lighter mascara for my lashes.

I hoped people would assume it was my natural color, and if they noticed anything very light between the roots of my hair, they wouldn't ask too many questions.

I touched my forehead, feeling a nice bump that must have been quite visible, so I spent about twenty minutes covering the bump with concealer and foundation. I couldn't see the difference in the mirror, but I had enough makeup experience to feel confident in my look.

I buttoned up a shirt, put on a pair of tight jeans, and a nice jacket. I needed to feel good today because I certainly couldn't feel smart.

I filled my backpack with the day's textbooks. I would go to school, then to the police station to continue my internship, and then home to study. And I would continue like this until I graduated.

There was nothing else I needed to deal with.

Cas didn't want my help, and I didn't want to deal with Cas. It was a perfect balance. Everyone was happy.

I put on sunglasses, my cap, and marched out of my room.

"Breakfast," my mother ordered, sitting at the living room table.

"I'm late." I tried to bypass her, but I miscalculated the distance, and she caught the cuff of my jacket without difficulty.

"That's not true. Sit down, you need breakfast."

I sighed. It was a trap. But she didn't let go of my sleeve, and I smelled toast and bacon. "Fine."

I didn't even have time to touch the chair with my butt...

"You came back late last night. What were you doing?"

"I was developing early-onset dementia. Any other questions?"

I helped myself to bacon and toast while my mother chewed slowly in the background.

"How's Casper?"

It slightly blew my brain. "How the hell should I know?! Will you stop hovering over me all the time?!"

"Not well, then..." she murmured.

I got up from the chair, quickly putting together a takeaway meal. "I swear, you're driving me crazy..."

"I love you!" she exclaimed as I slammed the front door.

...

School sucked.

I paid Marcus for the notes of the day I missed, then spent the rest of the day blocking out any thoughts of recent events.

I was so distracted that I forgot to apply more sunscreen before leaving school, which resulted in a walk to my Uber full of tingling in my fingers, ears, and the tip of my nose.

The sight of the police station, massive, cemented, without a hint of cheerfulness, reassured me. I was nobody in there, but that was my first step toward the path I had always wanted to walk. And if I managed to take the first step, I could take the second, and the third, and onwards until I became someone.

"Benjamin!" Dotty waved frantically from her desk as soon as I entered the administration room. "What happened to you yesterday?"

Everyone with the same damn question...

"I hit my head. But I'm fine today."

"Poor angel!"

I still wasn't sure if her disproportionate maternal sense towards me was flattering or annoying.

I smiled warmly at her and continued to my workstation. Well, not exactly my workstation, it was a desk squeezed at the back of the room with a computer kept as a spare for when another one broke.

But since all the other workstations were currently working fine, I could claim the cramped desk and the spare computer.

Someone had already stacked a series of files to digitize. That was a big part of my role there. Norgree's archive was being updated, and old case files from before floppy disks became common needed to be digitized.

Inside those yellowed cardboard folders were sheets printed in tiny fonts, which I would struggle to read even with a screen magnifier.

I glanced around the room. Being seated at the back, I had the advantage of being able to observe everyone. Dotty was focused on her screen, Patrick was scribbling in his agenda, and the two snooty guys who never spoke to me were busy chatting about their respective wives.

No one was paying attention to me.

I pulled out two pairs of Bluetooth earbuds from my backpack. I connected one pair to my phone and the other pair to the computer, then inserted the right one from one and the left one from the other into my ears.

I took a photo of the first page I needed to type into the computer with my phone and activated the voice synthesizer, which started reading the text directly into my right ear.

The computer screen appeared to me as a luminous white rectangle with some colored blotches here and there. But pressing three keys was enough to activate the voice assistant. From there on, I just had to follow the instructions in my left ear to open the file and start typing rapidly on the keyboard.

Anyone who glanced at me would have assumed I was listening to music as I carried out that boring copying task.

Around four, the phones began ringing incessantly. Assistants loaded with paperwork swarmed between desks like busy ants. Agents talked and laughed raucously among themselves.

I finished two dossiers before four-thirty, yawning only about ten times. My life had returned to normal.

Patrick sent me to prepare him a coffee just as the nystagmus was starting to annoy me, so I made my way to the break area with my eyes lowered, trying to appear shy and reserved, rather than an irritable albino with trembling eyes.

"Decaf, no sugar." I placed the paper cup on Patrick's table with a smile.

Drink water at this point, buddy.

Patrick grunted in acknowledgment of my existence, then turned to Dotty, who was still busy with the same phone call as when I left the room.

I was probably being paranoid about being discovered. It seemed like no one had ever bothered to look me in the eye so far.

"Yes, okay. I'll handle it." Dotty hung up the phone and sighed.

"So?" Patrick asked.

"They found a body on Sedgmoor Lane. They want a homicide detective on-site."

Dotty slipped her jacket off the back of the chair. The room suddenly fell silent.

The two snooty gossips burst into laughter. "Watch out, if you stop warming that seat, it might get jealous!"

I wanted to throw the hot coffee in their faces. It was true, Dotty had never left that seat as far as I knew, but she had tried to be nice to me, while those two had always been jerks.

"But... Sedgmoor Lane is in the Pit. Shouldn't Victor handle it?" Patrick objected.

"Victor's on sick leave. And David is busy at Upper Elm. We can't wait for him to be available. Jodi's involved."

They found a body.

In the Pit.

Jodi's involved.

Finally, my last two neurons connected.

The first image that formed in my head was Casper strangling someone, the damn sender of the letter, and leaving the body to languish on Sedgmoor Lane.

But then, a much worse image presented itself. The body was Casper's. Jodi was the murderer. And I had abandoned Cas knowing he was in danger.

"What does that mean?" I asked, my voice booming over the useless chatter of the agents. "Who did they find? Who's Jodi?"

They were staring at me, I could feel it. The shy coffee-bringer knew how to raise his voice. This wasn't very much in line with the image I was trying to create of myself.

Dotty offered me a smile so wide it had distinct edges. "The body hasn't been identified yet. And Jodi..." She paused, as if to build suspense for a punchline.

Patrick took advantage of the pause to chuckle. "Everyone knows who Jodi is."

"Oh, give him a break, Pat. He's a rookie. And it's clear he doesn't run in bad circles." Dotty leaned over the desk and came at me, draping one of her powerful arms over my shoulders. "Jodi is the Lord of the city. Or rather, the Lord of the Pit. If we arrest a prostitute in Norgree, we already know she works for Jodi. If we catch a drug dealer, we know Jodi supplied the goods. And if there's a dead person on display at Sedgmoor Lane, it's likely Jodi ordered the murder."

My mouth dried up quickly. "But... if you know he's behind the city's criminal activity, why haven't you arrested him yet?"

It must have been a very stupid question because the room erupted in laughter.

Dotty didn't laugh, she squeezed me even tighter in her grip. "We know he's guilty, we know where he lives, where he meets his crew, and we know he has a mastiff named Drollpup. But we don't have proof. City folklore isn't considered reliable evidence in a courtroom. And even if cameras caught him chopping a man to pieces, arresting him without his entire gang would be pointless. We'd end up with another Jodi before sundown."

Dotty concluded with a nice pinch on my cheek. "I'm off. See you tomorrow."

She began to pull away from me.

"Wait! I'm coming too!" My heart was pounding louder than the new laughs that erupted in the room. I didn't care about those other jerks. I was staring at Dotty, determined, unyielding. Until my eyes started to tremble again, and then I quickly hid them, staring at my feet.

"But of course! Why not?"

The laughter stopped, leaving only stunned silence. I didn't wait for her to change her mind, I threw her a grateful smile and rushed to grab my backpack, glasses, and hat.

"Dotty!" exclaimed Patrick. "You can't bring a high schooler to a crime scene! The boss will kill you!"

"Not if he doesn't find out," she chuckled, pinching me again as soon as I joined her. "Come on, Pat. They didn't assassinate the president, it's just another criminal skirmish. And Benjamin is always so sweet to us, he deserves a reward. Let's go! Look at him, how cute he is!"

She squeezed my cheeks with two fingers, making me make a fish face.

I let her. I would even have started barking on all fours if she had asked me to, as long as she took me there.

Casper...

If you got yourself killed, I'll never forgive you.

...

We had taken a real police car, with sirens and all. But the sirens remained off as we ventured into the city's disreputable neighborhoods.

"Ears wide open, Benjamin: don't talk to anyone and don't touch anything. You're here just to observe. Clear?"

"Crystal clear."

I had to put on my sunglasses once we left the station. The sun was setting, but it had been an unusually clear day, so the direct sunlight was still very strong.

First, I noticed the red and blue lights of the parked police car at the end of the street, then I recognized the yellow tape cordoning off the alley between two low, rundown buildings.

Our car stopped next to the one with the lights on.

"Here, put these on." Dotty handed me something white that I grabbed without asking questions. I felt thin plastic between my fingers. They were latex gloves.

"You said I shouldn't touch anything."

"Right, but put the gloves on anyway."

I obeyed quickly. Dotty was getting out of the car, and I was about to see the body. It wouldn't be Casper.

I opened the door, hiding my blue hair under the hat, and frantically looked around. It wouldn't be Casper.

Dotty was passing the yellow tape, showing her badge to the guard. "Officer Dorothy Winfrey. He's with me," she said, pointing me out from afar.

I rushed forward. Where's the body? What does it look like? It's not Casper. I was sure of it. It had to be.

The agent remained silent for a few more seconds, perhaps giving me a dirty look, but with that sun, I'd never know. In the end, he lifted the yellow tape, and I bent my head to pass.

I swallowed a lump in my throat. We were entering the alley. And the body was there.

It wasn't Casper.

This time it wasn't just self-conviction. The person lying supine on the dirty street floor was as thin as a nail. It would have taken two of those to make a complete Casper.

I let out a sigh of relief, perhaps a bit too audible.

Dotty turned around. "The first corpse is always difficult. But if you need to vomit, do it away from the crime scene."

Right. It was the first corpse I had ever seen live. I could see a large red halo around the head, but even with the shadow provided by the nearby buildings, the details of the face eluded me.

Should I have had some big reaction? Feel disgust or compassion?

At that moment, I only felt relief.

Was I perhaps a sociopath?

"So? Are you still with us?" Dotty asked.

"Yes. I was just surprised."

"Mhmm. Come on, my Padawan, do you feel like putting what you've learned to the test?"

I didn't know what a Padawan was, but I nodded anyway.

"Then tell me, what do you see?"

Oh, how ironic that question was. To be honest, not much.

"I... I'm not sure where to start."

"Let's start with who the victim might be. He didn't have any ID on him. What can you infer from his appearance?"

Shit. I clenched my fists, digging my nails into my palms. What the hell could I infer? He was just a silhouette in the shape of a person.

Come on. Details. Anything. "I think... he's young. His clothes are very colorful."

I bit my tongue. I sounded like an idiot. I didn't even know if it was a man or a woman. I couldn't tell if they had short hair or if the hair was mingling with the pool of blood.

The disappointed silence that followed was humiliating.

I couldn't do it. I would never become a homicide detective. It was so damn unfair. I could have been great. If I could have taken photos and had a tablet to zoom in on them, or... if I had an assistant describing to me what they saw...

But what was I thinking? No one would ever invest the additional resources needed to train a visually impaired detective, considering all the limitations they would always have.

Why should anyone bother to give me more than what everyone else gets? Just because I dreamed of making it?

There were billions of abled people in the world. And among them, all those who shared my dream would always have precedence over me.

I had never had any hope of making it.

"My head is spinning. It must be the blood... I feel sick. I need to sit down for a moment." I turned my back and ran to the car.

I crouched down in the seat. My head was really spinning.

Here was my dream shattering, and it had taken just one question: what do you see?