Cracks in her Armour.
Chapter 1: Cracks in her armour.
The late afternoon sun cast a warm glow along the cobbles. Detective Sergeant Lisa Swain stepped out of her car, clutching her side, the pain searing through her as she twisted to get out. Pushing her car door closed, she leaned against it for support, regaining her composure and straightening herself up. Lisa closed her eyes, taking a gentle breath in through her nose and exhaling slowly through her mouth. Any sharp breaths caused the pain to soar like the twist of a knife.
The pain in her side served as a constant reminder of what had occurred earlier that day: a confrontation that had left her battered but not entirely broken. Lisa’s determination was non-negotiable; she was never one to back down. With each deep, slow breath, she focused on continuing to push through the discomfort, mentally preparing herself for the investigation that lay ahead.
The last thing she needed was her Superintendent breathing down her neck, questioning her fitness for duty. After three decades of experience in the force, she was fully aware of how to navigate the complexities and curveballs the job threw at her every single day, but today had proved to be different. Lisa was determined to prove her capability—not just to her superiors and her colleagues, but to herself.
Still, while she was alone, she felt the weight of the badge on her chest—a symbol of her commitment and years of service. Each case she had tackled raced through her mind. Every crime scene she had meticulously examined had all contributed to her reputation. Yet after what had happened today, she felt fragile. She felt the physical discomfort taking control. Lisa had always been a fighter, never one to be beaten, so the thought of being sidelined because of her current state gnawed at her, which was exactly why she needed to keep pushing through; she couldn’t afford to let anyone down.
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Earlier that day, Lisa and her partner, DC Kit Green, had been called to a domestic disturbance on the Brightwell Estate. Both Lisa and Kit were no strangers to the well-known estate, nor were they strangers to the house they’d been called to on this particular day. Both were well aware of what was to come, but there was always that little twinge of hope that one day things would turn out to be different, because there was always that overwhelming, niggling fear that one day they might find a lifeless body within these walls.
Call-outs to this particular address were frequent enough and had almost become routine for the two of them. What usually happened was they’d arrive at the address, de-escalate the situation, arrest the husband, and bring him into custody. Then they would delicately take a statement from the wife, but then it was as if a switch would flick; the wife’s body language would shift dramatically, her tone would alter, her whole demeanour. She would retract her statement, choose not to press charges, and so began the vicious, endless cycle time and time again, leaving Lisa and Kit feeling entirely frustrated and powerless.
As both Kit and Lisa approached the house, the chaotic sounds of shouting, screaming, and the unmistakable sound of tossed furniture being thrown around reverberated out onto the street. Some neighbours’ curtains twitched, but no crowds gathered. No one wanted to get involved, really. The original call had come from a neighbour hearing a disturbance, but it was always an anonymous call. No details were ever left. It was the same pattern each and every time. Lisa always felt the familiar rush of adrenaline that accompanied her to every call-out as they both approached the front door.
After forcefully breaking down the door and announcing their presence, they entered the property with caution and determination. The air was thick with tension as they made their way down the hall to the open-plan kitchen and living area, where they were greeted with the disturbing scene in front of them. The room was in disarray—furniture overturned, shattered glass scattered across the floor, and evidence of a struggle amidst the chaos. The injuries to the woman were undeniably orchestrated by the male in the property as his bruised knuckles dripped with blood.
At the centre of the chaos, a tall, well-built man fuelled by rage stood over a cowering woman, her face streaked with blood and tears. Her body was covered in the purple-blue bruising that was already forcing its way out onto her skin. It told a silent, powerful story of the violence she had endured. Lisa, without thinking, instinctively moved to protect and shield the woman, stepping between her and the male, putting that barrier between them. Though Lisa was not tall in stature, she wasn’t scared, and she wasn’t about to feel intimidated. Always striving to show that she wouldn’t back down to anyone, she wouldn’t falter. She served to protect, and that’s exactly what she would do.
It had worked before. Lisa had taken plenty of body combat courses over the last three decades to be able to hold her own and stand her ground as a distraction to the male while Kit flew over and arrested him.
This time, it didn’t work.
This time was different.
The situation escalated in an instant. His furious gaze bore into Lisa, and she saw the anger in his eyes morph into aggression. He was most definitely on the brink of losing it again. She screamed for Kit, but little did she know he’d been caught off-guard by a second assailant, taking a fist to the face. Assaulting a police officer—that wasn’t clever. It was a reckless and brazen move, a stark reminder of how any situation could spiral out of control. Lisa’s heart raced as she watched Kit stagger back, over her shoulder, but manage to maintain his balance.
As the chaos unfolded, Kit managed to quickly turn the tables on his attacker and restrain him while he called for backup. Lisa attempted to restrain this fuel-raged man on her own; however, he lashed out and swung both his arms with surprising force, and in the blink of an eye, sent Lisa flying across the room, smashing into the centre of the coffee table with a sickening thud, as it gave way underneath her.
The impact knocked the breath from her lungs, and the room spun around her. A wave of disorientation washed over her as she tried to scramble back to her feet as quickly as possible. She groaned in pain as she struggled to gather herself. The sharp jolts of pain from her left shoulder, the sharp sting of her injuries reverberated down her arm. The room felt hazy for a moment as it continued to spin around her, and for a beat, everything was a blur. Every movement felt like a monumental effort as she winced at the pain, but she knew she couldn’t afford to stay down, winded badly as she tried once more to scramble to her feet.
“Stay there, Swain!” Kit called as he continued to hold the second male in cuffs. “Backup’s on the way!”
In a blur, backup arrived, and as if on cue, the sound of sirens and hurried footsteps echoed through the walls. Paramedics rushed into the property as both male suspects were escorted out. Kit ran straight over to Lisa, once the two males were dragged into the back of two separate police vans, his calming words trying to coax her into relaxing, but his voice sounded muffled and distant. Adrenaline was still coursing through her body, but it was strongly becoming overshadowed by the sheer vulnerability of the moment, leaving her feeling exposed and fragile.
After having her injuries assessed at the scene, Lisa was advised to attend hospital. She assured Kit that she was fine; however, her expression told a different story. Kit agreed to let her go in the ambulance alone while he headed back to the station with the victim, as always, willing to make a statement. Whether she was prepared or not to carry out the entire statement was unknown to both of them, but he had to try. Something had to change. At least he had some leverage to begin with. Each assailant had assaulted an officer on duty, so that was definitely going down in the charge book, but whether he could get the woman to talk or not was something to be desired.
At the hospital, the doctors confirmed that Lisa hadn't dislocated her shoulder and it was just a sprain, hoping for her to have it fully working in two to four weeks, but wrapping it up afterward for support, and handing her a prescription for strong pain relief for the extensive bruising down her left side—the deep purple and blue marks already staking their claim and serving as a solid constant reminder of her feelings of inadequacy. Temporary, yes, but Lisa still couldn’t shake the feeling that she was beaten, unworthy, and incapable.
Once cleared, Lisa made her way to the main reception to collect her prescription and then head back to the precinct. Her heart raced, and her mind wandered back to earlier events. How did I let this happen? How did he get one over on me? The questions swirled in her mind like a storm, each one intensifying her frustration and disappointment in herself.
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Lisa had always been able to hold her own, but this felt like a sign that she was no longer invincible. Though she had to try everything in her power to ensure her superiors and her daughter, Betsy, did not know the true extent of her injuries. The dealings of today were enough for Lisa to contend with, unable to shake the feelings of defeat that had completely shattered her confidence.
Work couldn’t find out because they’d send her straight home if they knew how badly injured she was, and Betsy couldn’t find out because, well, if her daughter found out what the job had done to her, then their already fraught relationship would be something else for Lisa to contend with after what the job had already taken from their family.
It had been three years since Bex, Lisa's wife and Betsy's other mother had been ripped from their lives in a hit-and-run. Three long, gruelling, and lonely years. Betsy had been thirteen at the time of losing her other mum, and even now at sixteen, she was a difficult teenager. She couldn’t understand why her mum still went to work every single day, putting herself in danger at the very thing that took her wife away from her. Lisa did it, of course, because she wanted to make the world a better place—a safer place for her and her daughter. She was also good at her job; she was a damn good detective, but Betsy just couldn’t understand any of it. Or at least didn’t want to understand any of it.
Over the last three years, the cracks had formed. They’d drifted apart. Their interactions had become fragile, filled with anger, regret, and resentment. They still loved each other, of course. Undoubtedly. And there were moments when they shared their grief, their loss, their love for Bex and each other showed, but they were rare.
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Through gritted teeth, Lisa carefully unwrapped herself from the sling the hospital had placed her arm in, then gathering herself together, made her way back into the station to see how her team were getting along with the assailants from the earlier domestic incident, but the wrought expression on both boys as she entered the office told her all she needed to know.
“She’s not pressing charges, is she?” Lisa asked, deflation already evident in her expression.
Kit shook his head.
“We’ve charged both for common assault, and both will appear in court at some point, but both have also been granted bail…unless your injuries are more serious than you’re letting on, Swain?” Kit raised his eyebrow, but Lisa shot him a glare. He held his hands up in surrender.
“Lisa, come on, if we can’t nail him on what he’s doing to his wife, we have to—”
“Ryan, don’t.” Lisa interrupted. Her reaction was short and sharp, making her point clear.
Kit and Ryan exchanged a glance. They knew not to push but couldn’t help but worry about their friend, their colleague, their sergeant. The bond they had together was unbreakable, and even though she knew she was dragging them down by denying what she was actually going through, she knew they wouldn’t go behind her back. She knew her secret was safe with them both.
It would just be Betsy she had to contend with later, and that was a fight she felt exhausted for already.
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Later that evening, Lisa joined Kit and Ryan in The Rovers for their usual Friday night casual drinks after a long working week. Mostly just to de-stress and refuel ahead of what the next week would bring.
Both Kit and Ryan noticed that Lisa was staying on the soft drinks tonight, exchanging glances with each other, which hadn’t gone unnoticed by Lisa. She hadn’t wanted to risk mixing alcohol with the pain relief on the first day of taking it. As much as she would welcome the alcohol to numb the pain, she wanted to see if the pain relief would work on its own first. She needed it to work.
“Go on, boys, say what you’ve got to say,” Lisa said, eyebrow raised, preparing herself for the pep talk, so to speak.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Kit and Ryan asked in unison.
“I’m fine,” Lisa muttered unconvincingly. “Look, I don’t need a pity party. You two are staring at me as if someone’s just died.” Her tone hit sharper than intended, and she winced at her own words and then at the sharp jolt of pain that scorched over her as her temper began to fray.
“We’re just looking out for you, Sarge. It’s okay to admit—”
“Admit what, Ryan? That I’m weak?” Lisa snapped back, anger now well and truly bubbling under the surface. “I don’t need this. I’m not some damsel in distress, and I certainly don’t need saving from two egotistic males such as yourselves.” With that, she grabbed her coat and stormed out of the pub, immediately regretting her words and actions.
It seemed as if the more her anger boiled over, the more the pain seared through her. Once outside, she leaned against the coolness of the brick wall, clutching at her side again, closing her eyes and trying to regain her breath.
Ryan quickly hurried after her, although looking at the way she’d been moving on her way out, she couldn’t have gotten very far. This was confirmed once Ryan pushed the doors to the pub open, a cool shiver running over him as he came into contact with the cold evening air.
“Lisa, wait! I didn’t mean to upset you. I was just—”
“Just what, Ryan? Trying to save me from my useless piece-of-shit self? I don’t need saving, Ryan—”
“Whoa, Lisa, that’s not what—”
“I just want to go home. Please.” Lisa sighed heavily. With that, Lisa walked away and headed for home, her heart heavy, her tears threatening in her eyes. Lisa wasn’t usually this emotional unless it involved memories of Bex or her fraught relationship with her daughter, but it seemed today had been full of surprises to her.
She knew she shouldn’t have spoken to Kit and Ryan like she had and acted up in front of both of them. It was far from professional, but most of all, it wasn’t how she’d normally talk to her friends, well, ever. But more than her pride had been bruised today, and she felt emotionally, physically and mentally drained from the way she was torturing herself.
Ryan watched her go, knowing better than to push any further than he already had. It had hurt him letting Lisa walk away like that, but he felt deflated himself. Too unsure of what was the right thing to do. Catching his aunt’s eye across the cobbles, giving him a questioning look, he just shrugged in return and headed back inside. What could he do? Lisa would just continue to push him away.
Carla had followed, soon joining both Ryan and Kit at the table, her face etched with questions as she'd watched Lisa and Ryan's interaction unfold outside.
Carla didn’t know Lisa personally, but she’d seen Detective Sergeant Swain around on the cobbled streets, and she knew her nephew Ryan was good friends with her. Ryan lived with Carla, so they talked a lot, but Ryan would never divulge anything he didn’t feel was his place to share. Well, up until now he hadn’t.
There was something about the small blonde woman that Carla liked, the way she looked, the way she carried herself, but she’d never had the opportunity to approach or talk to her. I suppose perhaps that was a good thing; I mean, after all, she was the police.
“What was all that about?” Carla asked questioningly, looking between both Ryan and Kit. Kit glanced at Ryan, who gave him the nod to surrender the information.
“We got called out to a domestic incident earlier on the Brightwell Estate.”
Carla cringed at the knowledge he brought forward, knowing all too well herself what it was like on this estate, having been dragged up with her brother Rob by her useless mother.
“We’ve been there a million times before, but Lisa got hurt—we think a lot worse than she’s letting on.”
“What, like physically hurt or—?”
“We don’t know exactly,” Ryan answered. “She got seen to by the paramedics, patched up at the hospital, then later we found her back at the station, acting like nothing ever happened. By what Kit’s told me, it was pretty nasty, but she won’t let us in,” Ryan concluded.
“So you haven’t upset her?” Carla asked, a little pushy. Carla knew Ryan well enough to know that he didn’t have a harmful bone in his body, but watching their fractured conversation outside the pub had made her doubt herself.
“No, no, nothing like that,” Ryan said softly.
“Good.” Carla gave him a nod of the head, blunt and to the point.
“You do self-defence classes, right, Carla? Maybe you could help her. Help her feel empowered again. It’d probably be even better that you’re a woman,” Kit suggested.
“I can’t just approach her though, especially not in the state she’s in after seeing you two outside. But I can give you my card to pass on to her; then she can reach out to me on her own accord or in her own time, if she wants to.” Carla suggested, rummaging through her handbag, she pulled out her business card, sliding it across the table to Ryan.
“Thanks, Carla. I’ll see what I can do.” He smiled softly at the other woman as she got up to leave.
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Later that evening, Betsy looked at her mum questioningly as she walked through the door. Lisa wasn’t usually home this early on a Friday night. But then again, Lisa was never home any kind of early, ever.
Lisa saw the look on her daughter’s face as soon as she opened the door. “Bets, please don’t start. I don’t feel too well, so I’m just going to head straight upstairs, okay?” Lisa reasoned with her daughter in the calmest tone she could possibly manage after more or less ripping Ryan’s head off.
“Mum, are you okay?” Betsy asked, actually sounding concerned. Their relationship was tenuous, but Lisa recognised the softness in her daughter’s voice, and she missed these moments of calm.
“Yeah, I’m fine, sweetheart. I’m just tired; I’m just going to head up for a bath and then go straight to bed.” Lisa gave her daughter a weak smile.
“Let me know if you need anything, won’t you?” Betsy asked softly, even though she still wasn’t buying it, she let it drop for now.
Lisa was momentarily stunned by her daughter’s response—the continued softness in her voice. It had actually turned out that sitting with Kit and Ryan tonight had been ten times more difficult than trying to hide her injuries from her daughter, but she let the warmth of her daughter’s love wash over her.
“Thanks, Bets.” Lisa leaned in to give Betsy a kiss on her cheek before making her way up the stairs.
It had been one hell of a struggle, but Lisa had managed to have a bath and find a reasonably comfortable position in bed, surrounding herself with lots of pillows and cushions, propping herself up.
Ryan had messaged her since she’d been home, and Lisa had finally decided to read it now that she felt a little calmer. Her heart pulled at her better nature, reminding herself how she had reacted and how insensitive she’d been.
Truthfully, it had been completely out of character, and Lisa hurt for hurting her colleagues, her friends. She knew she was at the centre of both Ryan and Kit’s best interests, especially after Kit had witnessed exactly what had happened to her, but she couldn’t help but silence the rage that had been inside her. Lisa wasn’t angry at them; she had been angry at herself for letting her guard slip.
Ryan: Hey, I’m really sorry if we overstepped earlier; we just genuinely want to help. We care about you, Swain. We’re like three peas in a pod, remember? We’re nothing without you, Sarge. No pressure in what I’m about to send you, and feel free to hound me about it also. Just let me know you’re okay? RY X.
Attached to the text was a picture message. Lisa opened it and zoomed in. It was a business card for self-defence classes by Carla Connor: Finding My Voice.
With much reluctance, but not really much else to do, Lisa found herself scrolling through Carla’s website, a glass of red wine in hand from the bottle that was carefully tucked away in her wardrobe. It wasn’t a school night after all, and what her daughter didn’t know, she wouldn’t miss. Lisa and her late wife, Bex, used to hide all sorts in their wardrobe for a cheeky late-night drink or late-night snack, and it was a habit that Lisa didn’t want to drop.
Keeping off the alcohol hadn’t lasted long. But Lisa promised herself just one small glass would be okay. After the day she’d had, she felt like she deserved it.
As Lisa browsed through the website, she learned that Ryan’s aunt, Carla, wasn’t just a rookie trainer but a properly certified self-defence instructor with several years of experience. Her website held testimonials, blogs, upcoming events, an about Carla section, and her class offerings, as well as much more.
Perhaps it was the haze of the wine, the medication, or both, but Lisa wasn’t completely against the idea of giving it a try. However, the group setting admittedly made her feel nervous and very hesitant. She was used to training with other people in the body combat courses she’d taken in the past, but that was different—being in a room with other officers, friends, colleagues.
This level of exposure made her feel anxious and vulnerable.
Lisa didn’t completely write the idea off, bookmarking the website to save for later. Then, having remembered she hadn’t replied to Ryan, she sent him a short text just so he’d know she was okay. She’d apologise to both of them first thing Monday morning. Maybe have a little grovelling to do too. Nothing a trip to Roy's before work wouldn't fix.