#lsv

I'd consider this an emergency, Dad. Slicing the thick rope in one swift cut, the breezeblock came tumbling down onto the grey metal, the alarm instantly blaring to alert the street. I ran away to my house, three doors down - thankfully - and ran through my screen door. Sweat formed on my brow as I peered through my living room curtains, making sure to keep all my lights off. As I heard commotion and angry yells from Mr Thompson; I knew that was my cue. Wrapping a large hoodie around my frame and pulling it over my head, I pulled an eye mask over my head too, letting it nestle on the rim of my forehead as I slipped on some slippers. Heading out into the cold, dark night once again, I found Darcy coming out to our side of the road.

"Looks like Jerry's in a bit of trouble there." Darcy spoke with a slight giggle. She didn't like him either, not many of the residents of this street did. Looking down the pavement at Mr Thompsons arms flailing about angrily as residents began to gather at the chaos, the all too familiar silhouette of the black SUV came swinging around the corner of the street. Bingo. Clunky black DM's hit the concrete as the young man stepped out of the car, sucking back a disgusting cloud of flavoured smoke from a vape I could see was electric green from down the street. He came towards Mr Thompson and his beautifully wrecked car (you're welcome) before looking around at the other residents. His eyes landed on mine for a moment before drifting back to Mr Thompson.

"He might just be the dishiest officer we've had around here, you know. Your age too." Darcy mumbled as she folded her arms, trying to hug herself away from the chill of the night. I knew what she was trying to do, trying to hook me up with the not entirely unattractive sheriff, but she had no idea of my ulterior motive. I chuckled lightly in her direction, keeping my eyes on the officer. Shit. He was walking towards me. If I end up in a jail cell I'm screw-

"Good evening ladies, or should I say mornin'?" The young man spoke with a sideways smile. Darcy and I smiled in response, her bony elbow nudging mine subtly. I nudged her back. "You lovely ladies see what happened to Gerry's car?"

"No, sir. I was sleeping. Woke up to the alarm blaring." I replied innocently, pointing to the eye mask atop my head. His eyes flickered up to it, studying it for a moment.

"Sleep is for the week?" He read the lettering on it aloud, chuckling to himself as he turned towards Darcy. "What about you, Ms Brook? Know you ain't too fond of the man. Got some weightlifting trophies we don't know about?"

I fought the urge to roll my eyes at his ridiculous attempt at humour, my eyes looking over his uniform and his features. He had beauty marks dotted over his skin, ironic considering his cocky personality was so ugly. But the way his kevlar hugged his frame, his cap rested almost over two big chocolate eyes was getting a little intense. He didn't seem that attractive when he was perring out of the SUV window, but I suppose that's a distance away. Doubt flooded my mind that this young man could have possibly killed my father, but I needed to get answers nonetheless.

"Well here's a card with my details on. You know, incase something comes to ya." He said, shoving a little piece of cardboard into just my hand, Darcy peering over my shoulder at the writing. Gator Tillman. Tillman sounded familiar, but i couldn't think where from. I nodded up at Gator, tucking the card into my dressing gown pocket. He walked away, taking one more quick glance over my shoulder at me before patting Mr Thompson on the shoulder; seeming to have made amends with the old crony about fixing his car. Hm. I needed to speak to him more, I thought to myself, as I bid goodnight to Darcy and headed back into my house to sleep. And plan.

Like some kind of crazed, grieving magician I'd been working on my next trick for just a few days. The middle of the night worked best, as it seemed Gator was on call a lot more nightly as of late. I'd decided to make this one a little personal, meticulously planning out a break in. Of my own home. I'd wait until the street was silent, all the elderly folks resting peacefully in their beds - bar Gerry Thompson who I could practically still hear grumbling about his car even still - and I'd smash my front door window in. My dad had left some money in piggybanks in the basement and it was a little window, easy to fix. In he'd come, like a knight in shining camouflage and then I'd out him. Or whatever, I hadn't actually thought of the crux of the trap yet. The onyx sky rolled around quickly, as I bound multiple tea-towels around my fist and headed through my back door and around the porch towards the front. Punching straight through the glass, I unlocked the door and snuck in; making sure to use a pair of my dad's old shoes to tread in the glass. I did the same to my back door, punching out the glass towards the patio so the 'attacker' could escape.

Unwrapping the tea-towels and putting them back in the kitchen drawer, I was relieved that my fist was unharmed. The next part was to wreck my beautiful kitchen, making sure the drawers were emptied and the knife block was menacingly strewn onto the floor as it looked like someone had ransacked the place. Grabbing duct tape from the drawer, I wrapped it around my wrists, pulling it and securing it tightly with my teeth. Some feat. I threw the duct tape underneath the sink. Holding two strips in between the fingers of one hand and my mobile phone in the other, I headed upstairs to my dad's bedroom, sitting in the corner opposite the dresser and tying one of the duct tape strips haphazardly around my ankles. Calling 911, I took some quick breaths in succession before they picked up. Just as an unfamiliar male voice answered, my tied feet kicked the dresser and let everything crash from its top. I screamed for help as the person the phone confirmed someone was on their way. As I covered my own mouth with the final strip of duct tape, I muffled some fake screams through it as the call handler tried to reassure me. Rolling my eyes I took the final step, adrenaline running through my veins at my intricate plan; drawing my head back hard against the wall and slumping down with my eyes.

I came round to a deep voice and a firm hand pinching my shoulder. "Ma'am? Can you hear me?" Groaning and mumbling, I blinked my eyes open to see two officers knelt beside me, holding pieces of duct tape from my body and bottled water. "Is he gone?" I mumbled, mentally noting that I should absolutely write a speech for my upcoming Oscar. "Is who gone? We found signs of forced entry, you're looking at getting two new doors replaced. No perp though." One of the young officers spoke softly. Neither of them were Gator. My entire plan had been to get Gator into a corner, like a little rat. A rat who, no matter how intelligent he may have seemed, had no idea that the person holding the cheese had backed him up into that corner on purpose.

With an inspection of my head and more numbers to call if I was 'alarmed', the officers headed back to their station as I packed a bag to stay at Darcy's for the rest of the night. The officers warned that the 'perp' may come back with my broken doors, so they'd asked my sweet, oblivious neighbour if I could crash at her place. She was kind, as always. Opening the door in her fluffy robe and matching slippers, her smile as warm as the heating that rushed out of the door of her home. "Come on dear, tea is ready for you. Lord knows you must be shaking like a willow in a storm." Her soft voice carried me into her home, as I settled on her floral-patterned couch. We drank tea, as I allowed my mouth to ramble about the horrors of what - I had orchestrated - had happened that evening. I felt awful lying to Darcy's face but the rigid ache in form of flashbacks and memories of my father pushed the lies right out of my mouth.