ABOUT FAITH

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it began normally;

- Faith Catherine Wierzbowski was born on a warm, June evening nobody cared to remember, and was meant to fade into obscurity the moment she stopped crying loud enough to be heard. Maybe she was aware of that. Maybe that's why she was such an unruly child.
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- Her father was Polish, a professor of Slavic history at the Washington State. Her mother was the student who was lucky enough to trap her professor the moment she graduated and he no longer had an excuse to refuse her invitations for a drink. One thing led to another, and Faith ended up growing up in a painfully average family, spiced up with tasteful dash of marital drama and softcore hate that kept bubbling under the surface of her parents' marriage, until enough tension gathered to make them snap and divorce when their daughter turned fifteen. Starting then she had two houses, two rooms, two phones, and two identical sets of gadgets she didn't really need, but asked for anyways - just to check if her parents will get it for her.
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- While Faith's everyday drama was unfolding, she turned to studies to ignore it. It was an obvious choice - with good grades she avoided drawing unwanted attention, everybody was happy with her, and getting an university scholarship helped her get out of the post-divorce gray zone and become an independent person she was looking forward to be.
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- Her years of wild student fun were spent mostly at the library and pretentious coffee shops, where she could indulge in educated discussions with random strangers who thought that their presence alone is more of a gift than a 4.0 GPA could ever be. She absolutely despised that, but it was a good training for later in her life. Especially after she kept climbing higher and higher up the academic ladder while starting to work at the local police station to gain work experience. She has always been small, average in height but lacking in almost everything else, and people often treated her like a kid she appeared to be. It was a difficult war to wage on everybody else. And she ended up losing it.
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- After her fist job turned out to be a disappointment, Faith moved out of Olympia to test herself in Seattle - an exciting new place, full of opportunities and thrilling cases to work on. It was going to be fun.[break][break]

and then it wasn't;

- She has been working for barely two years when the tragedy stuck. Or, more precisely, blew up.
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- It was supposed to be a fairly routine assignment. An accident on a usually crowded intersection, now covered almost completely in yellow tape, full of people in uniforms scuttling from left to right like anxious beetles. There were evidence pieces to gather, photos to take, and far too few hands to take care of it. Faith was asked to come along and and help in getting what they could dig out of the soft from the blazing sun concrete into boxes, so they could be transferred to the lab. It was a mess, everybody were melting in the heat, and the constant buzz of civilians trying to catch a glimpse of the place where this month's big thing happened for themselves. Nobody noticed a stray bag dropped off by the wall. Nobody realized that the accident was planned.
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- Luckily for the people gathered the police truck was standing in a place where it took the worst of the impact, and most of the nails from the bomb. There were very few injuries, none of them fatal, and most people were allowed to go home with nothing but an exciting story to tell and a headache. At least that's what Faith was told when she woke up.
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- She was in a hospital for a... while. She stopped counting days at some point. Most of her injuries were scratches, small-ish wounds that left some shiny scars here and there and "would drive all the ladies crazy." Her neck was the worst. Surgeons removed the nail from it as soon as possible, no doubt sighing in relief when they found out that it didn't go through the artery, but her vocal chords weren't so lucky. There was a bit of hope that she might regain her voice after treatment and rehabilitation, but it just didn't seem worth it. Both in time and money. So she gave up on it.
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- Police didn't want to take her back. Nobody said that to her face, but she had enough time to look and listen to learn the signs and ticks. People didn't want to work with her now that she has became a bit of a bad luck charm. The one person on a crime scene who got seriously hurt, a police technician who wasn't even supposed to be there, and who now had to find in herself newfound appreciation of silent films. She did her best to ignore that, but it became a bit too obvious to pretend it wasn't really there when she was moved to Unit 32. For testing. So she could creep out the resident weirdos instead of the hardworking professionals with no issues. It was meant to be a blow, but if there was one thing her "accident" taught her, it was that she could take a beating and still keep going.
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- And so when she first walked through her new Unit's door she was ready. She had coffee and cookies, and smiles and pre-made memo notes to make introductions easier. If the brass wanted to get rid of her, she was going to dig her teeth and nails into every piece of coworker and furniture she could to stay where she was and show everybody that she doesn't need a voice to make it clear where they can shove her retirement forms.
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- What she didn't expect was to actually have fun. She didn't even realize that she was struggling before she stopped doing that.[break][break]

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call me

INKY

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