Historias perdidas: Cold waters

Hola. Voy a ser rápida. De verdad que siento no haber subido nada y no pasarme por vuestros blogs. Esta semana no he estado muy de humor y no estoy acostumbrada a tanto trabajo. Aun así me comprometo a mantener esto activo, con más o menos tiempo. Así que aquí os dejo la continuación de la historia en inglés.

Espero que la semana que viene pueda subir algo (todavía espero hacer el bonus de Frozen y empezar con Enredados, pero es agotador y a lo mejor tardo; pero es un propósito, y suelo cumplirlos).

13. Cold waters

Before she was even able to meet Martin again, it was too late. She was even thinking about calling him up that same night. But once again, time outran Sam without her notizing, and she was left empty handed with a bullet in her chest.

Her life - what it had been - began to sink when her doorbell rang on a sunny afternoon. She had been searching, as it had become usual, with no result. Getting up to open the door became a relief, but not for too long. Especially when she recognized the typical dark uniform, with black and white squared stripes on his hat and jacket. Her blood froze.

In which world, in which reality, finding a policeman on your doorstep were good news?

"Yes, officer?" she automatically asked, her mind gone blank. The man greeted her by touching his hat and bowing his head slightly.

"Excuse me, madam, am I talking to Samantha Cardigan?" The woman just nodded, being completely unable to think of an answer. "I'm really sorry to inform you that Martin Conrad was found dead in his house this morning. Please take your time," he immediately said, watching the colour fade from her face. A few words had just destroyed a world of memories, memories from when they were still young and happy and they hadn't got a single worry.

Her knees felt weak, and she found the need to lean on the doorframe. "How did it happen?" Sam's voice trembled, but she was too astonished to even care about how silly her behaviour was.

"He hung himself from the kitchen lamp. Some neighbour was worried because he didn't open the door, so we went to see what happened. Nobody answered, so we knocked the door down." A slight movement of his hand made Sam think he was uncomfortable. "As we feared, the scene wasn't very pleasant. I'd rather not give you many details."

It was enough, at least it was more than she could take. "Thank you, sir. And sorry, I just... I need..." She began to close the door slowly, but the man stopped her. However, his expression wasn't fierce, or cold. It was mainly sad, and resigned, as if he had already done that many times before yet couldn't get used to it.

"I'm sorry, madam, but you were the last one to see him. So we must ask you a few questions. The conclusion is pretty clear. Still, as much as I hate this, we are obliged to complete the investigation."

"Yes." Her voice sounded more empty at every passing second. "Of course. What do you want to ask me?"

"We just need to know what happened yesterday. His mood, if there was something that could help us understand why he would do something like that... Anything that can prove that what he did, he did it on purpose."

"That, officer, I can answer," she confessed, thinking her heart was sinking in cold waters.