lemon's curse h.s.

ten

unedited.

emmalyn.

In movies, when the characters go to police stations, they're gruesome, rowdy and frightful; there's blood everywhere, people shouting at the top of their lungs, exchanging detailed threats. Bloody, handcuffed people are escorted by numbers of
police officers. It's an atmosphere of chaos.

I know you shouldn't believe everything you see in movies but this is honestly what I was expecting to witness.

However, when I pass the threshold, my ears are met with low murmurs and quiet conversations, my eyes taking in the serene environment surrounding me: people sitting in the waiting area, some bored, some impatient, others nervous. Cops walk around, a few talking with the other people, most immersed in their own work, carefully reading files as they walk around, on their phones, or quietly conversing with each other.

I'm not really sure where I'm supposed to go from where. I didn't expect to have to specifically look for Harry, to be honest. But there's adrenaline pumping through my veins and the irrational need to fulfill the purpose I came here for, which is exactly what I'm gonna do.

God, I'm gonna die.

I don't think it's gonna be wise of me to ask one of the cops about Harry so I guess I'll have to snoop around and look for him myself.

This feels so helpless.

Looking around, I see a set of two doors on the opposite sides of the room, which seem to be leading into halls. Quietly, making sure no one has their eyes on me, I go to the hall which more people are entering and leaving - police officers, non-uniformed people, all alike. I'm more likely to blend in there.

Walking through, I'm met with a giant hall containing a row of more doors on each side, leading into different rooms. Thankfully, they all have those small, netted windows on them so I can get small glimpses of what's going on inside.

I notice a woman leave one of the rooms, she's crying, sobbing hysterically and hiccuping, sniffing as she attempts to dry her tears with a crumpled tissue, but it's no point because more tears replace the one's she just got rid off. A policewoman walks with her, rubbing her back gently, leading her out of the hall back into the waiting room.

Strong bolts of sympathy surge through me and I feel my heart aching for her. I wonder what happened to the poor woman.

"Can I help you?" the stern voice of an officer speaks up from behind me, making me jump in surprise.

He's doesn't look as old as he sounds, probably no more than thirty-five. He looks down at me, his expression studious and solemn, his brows raise as he impatiently waits for me to answer. His hands are resting over the belt around his waist.

"No, I'm just waiting for a friend."

"And does this friend have a name?" he questions condescendingly.

I forgot how much I hated cops.

"Harry."

As soon as I say his name, the man's eyes widen a little and the stern look on his face contorts into one of slight bewilderment. I'm assuming he knows who Harry is.

I hope he tells me where I can find him.

"You should wait outside," he tells me instead, much to my dismay, "I'm sure he'll be here soon."

"Right," I feel Harry's phone vibrate again in my hand but I don't check it this time, assuming it's Neil. "Um... okay." Taking a small step back, I send the officer, Darren, a polite smile which he acknowledges with a nod before turning around and walking away.