I kick my front door shut with my foot and dump my sports bag in the corner of the hall, reminding myself to pick it up later. My body feels tense, and all I need is a hot shower and a few hours of sleep before I have to get ready for work.

Although I'm having the job that I wanted since I was a kid, I sometimes miss the times where I could just spend my weekends with the guys playing football or Fifa before going out until five in the morning. It still happens, but so rarely I can't even remember the last time.

Luckily, today I'm starting with my series of night shifts, which meant I was able to play on the Saturday amateur competition with our team M-Boys. We've won the game, and while all my friends are now celebrating in the park, probably followed by a night full of booze and pubs later on, I'm expected at work in a few hours.

I might still see them tonight though, since I'm a police officer in the center of London. It's Saturday and tonight will probably mean a lot of drunk people that either disturb the public order or get into a fight about whose cock is bigger.

Good fun you would say, only if I'm honest, said fights would be way more manageable if there weren't knives or guns involved. You'd be shocked how many people walk around with weapons these days.

My friends not included, of course.

At the age of twenty-three, I have seen some of the most shocking injuries as a result of drunken fights. So many in fact, that when I do have time to go out with my friends, I tend to not drink as much as I used to.

During almost every shift, I'm confronted with people that lose complete control and common sense because of alcohol, and I promised myself that I'll never end up in a situation like that.

As I walk into the bathroom and start the shower, I peel off my sweaty clothes. Today's match was great. We had the lead with one goal for three-quarters of the match until the other team got a penalty which made the score one to one. In the last thirty seconds, I got the ball and passed their two defenders before dropping it in the left high corner of the net. Their keeper didn't stand a chance, and we took the three points home with us.

It's great how a group of friends, most of them whom I've known for more than half of my life, are still the same as years back. We've all grown up; most of us having jobs, some of us having girlfriends, and all of us wiser than when we were sixteen. But when we are together, it's like nothing has changed.

We're all older, but no matter how much time gone by, we are still there for each other. It's a true friendship and I treasure it dearly.

When I've done a quick soap and rinse, I jump out of the shower, towel dry my body, and put on clean boxers before walking to my bedroom.

I've been living in my apartment for almost a year now, and it's one of the things I'm most proud of. It's not much; a two-bedroom apartment on the second floor just outside of London, but it's home and most importantly, completely mine.

I come from a wealthy family. My parents are both working in the entertainment industry. My mum is a director, my dad a cinematographer. I have uncles that are actors, and when I was ten years old, I was cast as the young Tom Riddle in a Harry Potter film.

Back then, I was completely convinced that I wanted to follow in the family footsteps and become an actor as well. That was until I saw a documentary about police officers in the United Kingdom on tv.

I remember it like it was yesterday; I was thirteen years old and in the documentary, a police officer with a body cam was in the middle of a chase. In the end, he managed to overpower a man that was terrorizing the streets by mugging young women.

It wasn't necessarily the chase that made it so impressive. It was the fact that the police officer was a good few inches shorter than the suspect, yet he had him down on his front and overpowered in less than a minute. He oozed pure strength, and in my eyes, he was a hero.

From that moment on, I wanted to be that hero too. I wanted to be the hero that made sure people could walk the streets without fear.

In real life, police officers are often seen as the bad guys, but that doesn't stop me. I do my job with only one thing in mind; making sure that everybody is safe. And after every shift, I feel fulfilled and satisfied.

I close my blinds and make sure to set two alarms so I can't oversleep, and then lay down. I always force myself to get a few hours of sleep before my first nightshift of the series, even though I'm not as tired and technically only up for a few hours. It'll give me the extra energy that I might need. I need to be prepared for every situation and I may have to work overtime, especially since we never know what to expect.

So, after my head has made contact with my pillow and I'm comfortable, I close my eyes. And luckily for me, this time sleep finds me easily.

London on a Saturday night in the middle of December has something magical. The Christmas lights are shinning, there are a lot of tourists in town which adds to the already crowded streets, and somehow everybody has a happy vibe over themselves.

My partner Dwight and I are about four hours into our shift, and up until now, we've only had a few minor incidents in which we didn't have to arrest anyone. It's relaxed, and I'm happy to start my shift like this.

We've just gotten into the car to make a surveillance round. Since everything on the streets looks peaceful, we have time to do a quick drive around town. That way, we can reach a bigger area in less time, and it makes standing stand-by for calls easier.

"How many shifts do you have after this one?" Dwight asks while taking a left turn and by that driving us out of the busy streets.

"Four. You on your end?" I ask him in return. We all have two partners with whom we work most of the time. In my case, I normally work with Dwight or Nancy. They are both very different people, but I don't have a preference. Both are great to work with.

"One more after this one. Already have four done so I'm knackered."

I whistle and shake my head. "Damn mate, that's though."

He nods in agreement. "Tell me about it. It has been quiet though, so I hope it wasn't the calm before the storm."

"We'll see. We're off to a good start." Just as the words leave my mouth, the board radio activates, calling our attention.

"Do I have a unit close to 364 Mill Road?" The women from the control room asks, and with one look at my surroundings, I know that we are less than three minutes away.

Dwight catches on just as fast as me, and responds immediately, confirming that we are on our way.

"Good. I have a call from a neighbor who is hearing stumbling in the apartment underneath. The owner of the house isn't home, he left for vacation yesterday morning. Please take a look and let us know if you need back up."

We once again confirm that we received the notification and then start to make our way to the given address.

"I bet you fifty pounds it's a cat," Dwight snorts as he turns into Mill Road.

I chuckle as I look for the right number, checking the surroundings if I see anything out of the ordinary that could tell me something about the situation inside. Since everything looks completely normal and there are no signs of a break-in at the central door, Dwight might be right.

"It's on," I say even though I'm almost sure this means I'll lose money.

Dwight parks the car and we both get out right after. When we arrive at the central door, it's opened by an older lady who seems to expect us.

"Officers," she says in greeting, her voice a little shaky and out of breath.

"Ma'am," I nod. "You made a call?"

She nods her head and beckons us to follow her up the stairs. "I did. I've been hearing sounds that come from downstairs for about four hours now, and I know for a fact that the owner of the apartment left for vacation yesterday. He lives there alone, and since the noise is persistent, I decided to make a call."

"Can you describe the noise?" I ask as we follow her up.

"It's a bit like wailing," she says while looking back for just a second.

I roll my eyes and hear Dwight snicker behind me. "Told ya," he chuckles in a low voice so only I can hear.

I decide against reacting and focus on the task at hand since we are, according to the woman that leads us up, on the correct floor now.

I follow the woman as she waggles towards the door of the apartment. "This is it." She nods to apartment number 364B, and almost immediately I hear the noise that she is revering to.

It's indeed a soft whimpering sound, and for a moment I wonder how thin the ceiling has to be for her to hear this upstairs, but then the noise gets louder and I'm immediately on high alert.

"That's not a cat," I state as I listen to what is clearly whimpering. It sounds like someone is in pain in there.

I knock on the door, completely ignoring the woman next to me who is trying to convince me that there is nobody in the apartment. "Hello? This is the police. Can you open the door?" I ask loudly, making sure I'm heard clearly.

For a moment we listen silently for a response. The whimpering is still there, but other than that, nothing.

Dwight, who is now standing next to me, pounds on the door next. "Police, open the door!"

Again, we listen carefully for a response, and to my horror, I hear what sounds like a woman whimper from behind the door. "Please, help me."

I look at Dwight to see if he heard the same, and his wide eyes give me the confirmation I need instantly. I try the doorknob to see if the door opens while I hear the woman on the other side let out a soft growl.

There is something wrong in there, and somehow my gut is telling me we need to get in there fast.

"Get away from the door," I order the person who is inside and then look at Dwight. "Call for back-up."

I then step back, forcing Dwight and the women who brought us up away as well before I kick against the door with all my strength.

The door flies open and a high yelp comes from within the apartment. I take two steps inside and let my eyes adjust to the dark hall. When they are, I notice a young woman on the floor, and I instantly know it's bad.

"Call an ambulance," I say to Dwight while I look for the light switch on the wall. When the lights spring on seconds later, I see how serious it is.

The young woman is holding her swollen belly, her blonde hair sticking to her sweat covered face. There is no doubt; this girl is pregnant and she is in labor.

Her face is extremely pale, her cheeks fallen in, and her lips slightly blue while her expression tells me she is in severe pain. Her blue eyes are wide with fear and are looking up at me, begging me for help.

She is panting, small whimpers are leaving her lips in between breaths. Her track pants and underwear are down to her knees, and in between her legs is a red puddle of what seems like blood visible.

"It's coming," the girl grunts, and right after that, I see her face tighten in concentration while all her strength seems to go south.

Jesus Christ.

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