Tim Bradford

The hospital room was quiet and serene, the only noise coming from the soft beeping of the machines that surrounded the bed. A rookie officer was lying in the bed, their face pale and their eyes closed, attached to several machines that monitored their vitals. Standing beside the bed was Officer Tim, his arms folded across his chest and his expression a mix of concern and guilt.

Tim had been on the force for years, but he had never had to deal with something like this. The drug ambush plan was supposed to be a routine operation, but it had gone horribly wrong. The rookie had been deeply stabbed during the operation because the back-up didn't arrive on time and had been rushed to the hospital. He felt responsible of course. He was the one who had come up with the plan and made the Sergeant agree to it. He was the one who had given the rookie their assignment and made them follow it step by step. If only his harsh senses gave the rookie a much for easier task. He couldn't help but wonder if he had made a mistake, if he had overlooked something that had caused things to go so terribly wrong.

Looking at the rookie now, Tim felt a knot form in his stomach. He had seen too many people lose their lives in the line of duty, and he couldn't bear the thought of losing another. He made a silent vow to himself that he would do everything in his power to make sure the rookie made a full recovery. To fix his little mistake and weighten off the guil, he stayed by the rookie's side all night, watching over them as the machines beeped and the nurses went about their duties. When morning came, Tim was still there, still feeling guilty and worried. But he knew that he had to be strong, because that's what the rookie needed. They needed him to be strong, to be there for them, and to do whatever he could to ensure their safety and recovery.