Torn and tear stained pictures laid scattered on the floor around her wicker chair, the one where he first confessed his 'love' to her. The chair itself was laden with half burnt pictures of them. The large, musky room's curtains were drawn shut, plunging the room into an eternity of darkness. Tiny particles of dust floated and danced slowly around the large oak furnishings. The heavy oak door looked as if it were dying, its hinges almost crying out in pain, the circular handle hanging in mourning. The canopy of the four poster bed sagging, the velvet heaving its last breath.
She collapsed on the floor, facing the ceiling. She stared at the beams running parallel to her body, she let the tears run freely down her face, and let the body convulsions take over her. The same thought manifested its self in her head. Her rational thought was drowned out by all the pain, passion and anger.
I loved him.
She would end the hurt soon. She caught sight of one of their pictures together near her long, perfectly manicured fingernails. She reached out to stroke the side of his face, she suddenly grew tame. The anger just drained away, she felt herself go limp, her spine giving in.
She let the memories of their time together flood over her like a dam that had been breached. She thought of all the pain and grief he had brought her, and that he didn't even care. She began crying again, just simple sniffs and the occasional tear. The thought returned to her.
I loved him, I loved him, I loved him, I loved him, I loved him, I loved him, I loved him, I loved him,
the notion getting faster every time she thought it, she was beginning to get hysterical,
I loved him, I loved him, I loved him, I loved him, I loved him, I loved him, I loved him, I loved him,
she raised the barrel of the gun to her temple,
I loved him, I loved him, I loved him, I loved him, I loved him, I loved him, I loved him, I loved him,
she placed her finger on the trigger,
I loved him, I loved him, I loved him, I loved him, I loved him, I loved him, I loved him, I loved him,
she murmured her last words, "I loved him," The short silence was deathly.
BANG
Marcs
"Marcs?! With all due respect, sir, isn't Marcs, well, a bit of an idiot?"
As if on cue the newly promoted, and transferred, Detective Inspector P.C Marcs stumbled into the into the Cheltenham police HQ office on the 4th floor. Her Adidas hoodie half undone, her torn jeans were muddied at the bottom, where her Dr.Martens had stood on them one too many times, her black skull t-shirt and stud belt were all stared at for at least a second each. In cannon they all looked up into her face, their eyes widened in shock. Her long hair was thick and looked as if it had never been brushed before. It was dyed black, but where the strip lights hit her hair, it was shocking purple. Her eyes were blue with orange flecks around the pupils.
As Marcs looked around the briefing room she realised that they were all in 'smarts'. To most people that would of meant a suit, or maybe neat jeans and a smart, but casual t-shirt, but to Marcs, that meant clean jeans and a t-shirt that was ironed. Marcs’ eyes widened. She resembled a goldfish.
“Detective Inspector Marcs, how nice of you to join us. I have just told your new team who you are. You see, we kept it secret, so they would all be so surprised,”
As the super Intendant rambled on, Marcs began to look at all her colleagues. They all looked so surprised. Super Intendant Majors introduced PC. Joseph Andrews. Marcs turned her attention to the tall, well kept, bordering on squeaky clean PC. The Super Intendant carried on giving the regular pep talk that all Super Intendants gave. PC. Andrews continued to stare at Marcs with a gormless expression on her face. He returned the look, but unlike Marcs, he was able to hide his amazement quickly, before anyone noticed. She looked around the room for the second time. She wondered if that’s what they were all doing. Hiding their surprise.
PC. Andrews led her to their offices. Marcs couldn’t control the look of amazement that spread across her face. Everything as so posh. The office was modern and comfortable. The computers at each desk were new, and the seats looked cushiony. Marcs decided that her room wasn’t going to be like that. She was so sure of it, that when PC. Andrews opened the door to her office, she gasped. It was exactly like it.
When PC. Andrews said he’d leave her to sort herself out, she realised that she was still listening to Flyleaf, and that he meant her attire. She made a mental note to work on her appearance later, but for now, all she could do, was take off her hoodie, earphones and stud belt. She then strolled into the main office, and addressed every one.
“Right team,” She spoke loudly, proving that she wasn’t going to be a push over,
“What’s first?” She was met by an eerie silence, then PC. Andrews spoke up, helping her out.
“Case 14325.” He said the letters independently, so it was more like; one, four, three, two, five. The tension tightened in the room, every face drawing into a trained mask of emotionless lines. “The Mercelado suicide,”
Brilliant.
Please tell me what you think!! 
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125,018 Literary Works • 672,857 Reviews
is when people do something one after another, almost equally spaced time wise.
Hey there! Welcome to YWS!
Okay, first off: I loved the description of the room. It was solemn and sad, setting the mood wonderfully.
Do you mean "itself"?
This description seemed a little out of place. We're hearing about how distraught she is, then we get this description that really does nothing to further her sadness or character.
The repetition of "I loved him" actually became very powerful. It makes the scene that much more frantic and unhinged. *thumbs up*
Do you mean "in union"? I've never heard the expression "in cannon" before.
"Black" should be lowercase here, since it's just a color, not a name or some other proper noun.
This sentence was really long and even a bit overrun. The best thing to do would be to break it up into maybe two sentences.
ex. Her long hair was thick and looked as if it had never been brushed before. It was dyed black, but where the strip lights hit it, it was a shocking purple.
I think you mean "they were".
I liked this. My two main gripes with it were the description and the way it ends.
Description-wise, you have some cool images in here, but some of it feels unnecessary. The whole description of Marcs when she first enters is interesting, but we'd get more of a sense of her character through her actions rather than just a description of her clothes. The description of her clothes does give us some insight, so I'm not saying to get rid of it, but add something to it. All we see is her entering and looking around surprised. Why do they call her an idiot? What has she done to deserve such a label? More please!
In terms of the ending, I'm assuming that you're going to continue this, but the place you ended this section seems so strange. It's not much of a cliffhanger. It just... cuts off. We don't really know how these two scenes are connected. We don't know why all of these people have been brought together or why they would so surprised at what they have learned. So maybe a little more cohesion between the scenes, or at least a hint at future cohesion, would be nice?
I did like this though. It packs a bit of a punch and has piqued my curiosity. Where is this going? I want to see more.
~GryphonFledgling
One of the first things I noticed was how you describe the setting. Not only was it vivid, but it seemed to mirror her emotions. That's a very powerful thing, and creates a sense of unity, and strengthens her feelings. That's quite commendable.
Maybe this bit was a bit over the top, because you're actually telling the reader the door's meant to reflect her sorrow. Try and keep it a bit more subtle so it doesn't stick out.
These double-ups should be reworded.
That's a comma splice. Swap the comma for a full stop.
The way you worked the pacing with the "I loved him"s was good.
And this was a perfectly placed bit of comic relief (and a huge first step with Marcs's characterisation)
The description of her is brilliant. It's interesting because she seems like the last person who'd want to become a police officer. Might I suggest though, that you split this sentence up, because it required re-reading to get the gist of it.
You've got some strong characterisation, and good description of setting here. The plot is also coming together. (well, I assume they'll be solving the mystery of why the woman killed herself)
I can also sense an inevitable clash of personalities between Marcs and her colleagues which will add another layer to the story. I think it's brilliant how you've used Marcs's character rather than a generic, policewoman stereotype. It makes the reader wonder why she's doing this when there's much easier jobs at the supermarket. She must have a personal reason which will also add depth.
In all, great job. Crime fiction has never been my thing, but maybe now I'll be more open to it.