The Clandestine Sides To Simon Breck

Hello there! Here you will find my incomplete story, 'The Clandestine Sides To Simon Breck'. No previous reading is required! Set in modern day London. Enjoy! (I will update the story whenever I write a new chunk of it!) **Written by a 15 year old-Please take that into account when commenting!**

-Chapter One-

Simon glared at his meal with disgust. He had been picking at his food ever since the night it had happened. He hadn't slept, barely moved, never spoken. He had been slowly drowning out the loneliness with alcohol and rage; stumbling through his apartment. No-one had dared to visit him, for they had all been there when it had happened. They had all seen his twisted sorrow. And they were afraid. Now when they all spoke of him, their voices whispered fear and regret. 'Simon Breck?' they would say. 'He used to be good at the job. He was just starting to get well-known. But after the night it happened...'

Simon shivered angrily, tightening his fingers around the wine glass he had grown to know. The thought of that night still shattered him. Since then, he had solely wished to become numb. He did not believe in any kind of God, for he had seen horrific suffering in his career and had grown to hate any form of religion, and yet his desperation forced him on his knees every night to pray. Emotions crippled him, and entwined themselves around him. He had tried to end his own life before, the many scars on his arms showed as much. But even his own scars mocked him; their presence a constant reminder that the past was real.

Simon staggered towards his window, and peered out at the rain sodden buildings. The streets were overflowing with people, dashing around about their business, most of them covering themselves with soggy newspapers or briefcases. It was the rush hour in London; however Simon did not know it. Using the rusted windowsill to lean on, Simon stood and looked out for a while. He grew both jealous and hateful of the blurred faces of the people he watched through the streaked rain on his window. They all knew where they were going; they were all scurrying around with purpose; even if they were soaked to the bone. Suddenly, Simon's phone rang, and he jumped. No-one had called him in such a long time that he had forgotten he even owned a phone, and its ringing was an unfamiliar wail for a few seconds. He scrambled to pick it up, and eventually answered with a croaky greeting.

'Simon! I'm sorry! I told him not to!' came the yell from the other end of the phone. 'What?' came Simon's gritty reply. Who the hell was phoning him, and what the fuck were they talking about? 'Simon! It's me...' said the voice. This didn't help Simon. Everyone he knew had been drowned out within the past month. After a few moments, the voice identified itself. 'Inspector Grey.' Simon grunted; practically snarling. 'Why are you calling me?! I told you! I told you all! I'm finished with you!' he yelled. 'Simon, I told him! I said you wouldn't like it!' Grey persisted. 'What are you talking about?! Are you drunk or high or something?!' Simon snarled back. 'He's...not there yet then?' Grey replied, relief to his voice. 'No-one's here. No-one's ever bloody here' Simon replied. 'Then you might not want to let him in' Grey said, quickly. '...Let...who...in?' Simon asked. Grey's voice held hints of worry within it, which Simon was picking up. Before Grey could reply, there came at knock at Simon's door. 'Oh, Simon...' Grey sighed, before hanging up. Simon's left eye twitched. Now what? What had Grey been talking about? Was this man at his door a danger? Simon could not remember any of the training he had learnt whilst working for the Police, he had repressed every memory of his career, however some kind of animalistic instinct drew him to reach for his gun, which was still where he had dropped it on the floor, on the night that it had happened. His curiosity drew him towards the door, with heavy steps.

'What do you want?!' Simon yelled, pressing himself up against his front door. '...Well, to come in would be nice!' a disgustingly chirpy voice replied. Simon raised an eyebrow. Was this some kind of pathetic joke? 'Who are you?!' he growled. 'I'm not afraid of you! I'll kill you!' Simon yelled, firing a shot at his wall, in a confused daze. The bullet shattered through his yellowing wallpaper and showed that he wasn't lying. There was silence outside Simon's door for a few moments. Simon breathed heavily, the stench of cigarettes circling around him as he did. 'M-My name is Mark Winnow. I'm your new partner. G-Grey told me what happened on that night. I know how your last partner was killed.'

For a few moments, nothing happened. Then Simon flung open his door and fired his gun straight at Mark's chest.