Never Enough

Never Enough1

In her lab, Megan was struggling with the various beakers and chemicals. Most of which are dangerous not only to the touch, but to her lungs as well, hence the full body suit. Her golden protective layers were a bit out of place in the very expensive-looking forensic laboratory. But behind her mask, she still radiated authority. Being the top scientist in the country will do that to you.2

Megan always surprised everyone with how well she does her job, especially being the only female in the lab. Not everyone was happy with it being a female in the position, rather than a man. But nobody wanted that responsibility: lives rested in her hands, the fates of so many criminals, so many lovers, so many haters. Science doesn’t discriminate.3

Tonight, she was working overtime. She always did. She had to find out weather or not this was the particular chemical which killed Marshall Henderson. Tetrahydrathene was a very deadly chemical, usually causing an extremely horrific and painful death. And it smelled like it. Marshall had been found earlier that day. A construction worker found the body (or what resembled a body) buried in the brush on the side of a road while he was going to take a leak.4

The body was damaged beyond recognition. His flesh bubbled up and turned black and even melted away in some areas. His arms seemed to have melted to his sides in a very painful looking manner. Only his shirt and pants remained intact, revealing his name and occupation as a clerk at the local health food store. He smelled like a mixture of death, burning plastic, and insecticide. The odor, not to mention the horrific death, hinted towards the use of Tetrahydrathene (THT).5

(The construction worker quite his job to become a priest the next day)6

The tests confirmed Megan’s suspicions of THT. This was definitely murder.7

* * *8

When she returned home the next day, she already had a message waiting for her. Her apartment was more a place to stay between jobs than a home. The place had little décor and even less lighting. The monotonous gray walls blended into the monotonous gray carpet which looked less than great underneath the monotonous gray futon.9

Megan avoided the message machine with a practiced ease, knowing it was just another job. Instead she picked up her small blue notebook simply entitled “Poetry”. This was her only solace in her life right now. She didn’t have any friends, not really. Her job kept from them. She didn’t have the time to go to clubs or movies, coffee houses or concerts. She didn’t even have the time to sleep in her own home, usually. Most of the time she just slept at the lab. Not to say that she didn’t enjoy her work, she really did. But sometimes she just wished she could go out there and live her life. But then, doesn’t everybody think that sometimes?10

She reached for her pen and notebook when her message machine started to beep again. She tried to just ignore it and think of something poetic to write, but she couldn’t. She got up and started for her message machine across the room with the hope that it may be her mother calling, or maybe a reminder to go the dentist. She was almost believing it too, when she pressed the button. But alas, it was another job. It was always another job. No matter how many people she saved or convicted, it was never enough. It was never enough. It was never enough. Never enough.11