Chapter 2
TWO
Once I leave the subway, I navigate through the bustling streets of Manhattan, heading toward the John Jay College of Criminal Justice.
The college is a massive glass building and part of the City University of New York.
It’s my final year as an undergraduate student studying forensic science.
I was lucky enough to receive a scholarship, thanks to my high GPA, our difficult financial situation, and some kind-hearted recommendation letters from my past teachers.
Without it, I would have never been able to afford college and pursue my dream of becoming a forensic toxicologist.
This morning’s ordeal with Roberto has made me late, making me rush into the building, determined to make it to my classroom on time. I hate drawing attention to myself by arriving late, but I hate the idea of missing a lecture because of that awful man even more.
My professor glances at me with a raised eyebrow but thankfully doesn’t say anything as I quietly slip into the room and make my way toward the back. I quickly sit and get out my laptop, preparing to follow along with the class.
My classes start in the early morning. Since it’s my final year, I only have three courses left—Advanced Forensic Toxicology, Forensic Chemistry, and Forensic Science. I genuinely enjoy all of them, but it can be challenging to fully engage and function at such a high level with so little sleep.
When my classes for the day are over after lunch, I head to the Upper West Side to start my afternoon waitressing shift at a bread and bagel café.
“Thank you, dear.” Mr. Simmons gently touches my hand when I refill his coffee cup.
“Would you like another bagel?” I ask him with a smile.
I like the old man, and he comes here almost every day.
“My doctor wouldn’t approve,” he shares, his expression telling me he disagrees.
“If you don’t tell him, I won’t either.” I wink at him.
He chuckles. “Sure, dear. Please bring me another one.”
“Coming right up,” I reply before returning to the cash register, where my boss, Mrs. Miller, is waiting.
She looks at me sadly. “You’re great with the customers,” she says, and I feel a sense of unease in her tone.
“What’s wrong, Mrs. Miller?” I ask.
She nervously twists her hands. “The café hasn’t been making enough money lately.”
I brace myself, already sensing where this conversation is headed. I’ve truly enjoyed working here.
The pay is decent, the people are kind, and I genuinely like being here, unlike my job at the bar.
“So, you’re letting me go,” I state in a calm and neutral tone.
She nods, tears welling up in her eyes. “I’m truly sorry, Carolina, but you won’t need to come in tomorrow.”
I nod. “All right. Thank you. I appreciated the opportunity to work here.”
Mrs. Miller grabs my shoulders, pulling me into a hug. “We loved having you here too, honey. And if you ever need a recommendation for another job, I’ll make sure to speak highly of you.”
I normally don’t get hugs. Usually, I’m the one giving them to Chiara, so I feel awkward.
I carefully extract myself from her embrace, grab a bagel and say, “We shouldn’t keep Mr. Simmons waiting.”
Mrs. Miller nods, wiping away a tear.
Damn, what am I going to do now?