Jake Peralta - A Sad B99 Story

chapter 1

Jake pov

I was just there on the floor. My tears mixing with my blood on the ice tiles of the bathroom. The searing pain in my forearm felt good, familiar. A sob escaped  out of my mouth, thankfully not loud enough that Amy would wake up and find me here. Her stupid, weak, broken husband crying like a child on the floor. She surely wouldn't love me anymore if she found me like this, I'm not sure she loves me now. She definitely wouldn't miss me if I left... or died.

I got up eventually and cleaned the floor and my arm that was once again covered in cuts. The new ones almost completely covered the old ones but they're still there, still clearly visible to anyone who has the misfortune of looking at the marks of my break downs. I bandaged my arm and look at my face in the mirror. A failure. A fat, ugly, dumb failure. Why cant I be more like Amy?

I got dressed and brushed my teeth, I didnt need breakfast, I was fat enough already. Once I was ready I sat on the sofa  and let out a long sigh. Another sleepless night, I thought to myself, is that number 4 now? I chuckled sadly in the silence.

A noise came from the bedroom. Amy! Shes waking up! Panic filled my body, had I put everything away? I ran to the bathroom to check and saw that I had done so. I proceeded to the kitchen to splash a drop of milk and a few cereal crumbs into a bowl and left it on the side with a spoon, to make it look like I had breakfast. Amy stumbled out of the bedroom and mumbled something that sounded like good morning while walking to the bathroom.
"Good morning, Ames" I replied sitting down on the sofa like nothing's wrong.

She went from the bathroom to the bedroom and vise versa multiple times, her appearance changing slightly every time and her uniform becoming more and more neat. Once she deemed herself good enough to go to work she came and sat next to me.
"Jake, how comes you've been awake before me these past few days? Are you ok?" She asked concerned.
"I'm ok, Ames, just having trouble sleeping. That's all." I gave her a quick kiss and left for work.

The journey to work was a blur. I was thinking about how I needed to keep my secret and keep doing my secret. The urges to cut were overwhelming, I had to pull over at one point. I breathed through the urges and needs and got myself to work. I didnt say hello to anyone, not even Charles, which broke my heart, in order to keep my secret safe. He wouldn't want to be my friend if he knew what was going on. I sat at my desk and started at the blank computer screen. I didnt even notice when Amy arrived, and I nearly missed the morning briefing.

"Jake, you team up with Rosa. Andrew Summers aged 15 died in his room. It was probably a suicide but captain asked me to tell you to check it out." Sarge explained. A pit of anxiety swelled up in my stomach, making it hard to breathe.

Why do I find people that suicide so brave. They actually did it, they did what i couldn't do. I admire them. But I dont want to see they're body. I can deal with murder and rape and all the other cases but recently I have found suicides horrible, triggering even. Why me? Why do I have to be on this case? Why can't I be the victim, be the one who died?