Pessimist

14 - Tentative

Trigger Warning: Mentions of physical abuse

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As my medical examination neared, so did the days that blurred together. My routine was fairly the same everyday, on those where I had classes I was getting up early and attending, coming home and studying the rest of the day while on the days I didn't have school I was heading to the gym with Dean.

While he was more into weightlifting, I stuck with cardio not really wanting to accomplish anything besides get in my physical activity for the day.

Somedays, I would shamelessly sit beside him and just watch. He wasn't that bulky, and thankfully wasn't a gym addict either. He was kind of like me, only going because it was free and an easy way to get a work out in.

Today, however, was a different day in itself. Currently Dean and I were sitting inside the police station and while he observed the officers, I was bracing myself for the reality that was about to come. I was really doing this-really filing a restraining order against Devon.

It wasn't as if I hadn't gone to the police before, but living in a small town where he had an abundance of connections had made it difficult for me to even file a complaint. I was seen as immoral, untruthful, because they knew him for longer while I was probably some gold digger wanting to get rich off of his family.

His father was the fucking mayor, for christ sake. Honestly, it was a miracle that I even got out, much less survived on my own in the city.

With a sigh, I turned to look at Dean, noticing he was in his regular stance with arms crossed over his chest as he was assessing everyone.

I had asked him to come with me, knowing I wouldn't be able to be surrounded by police officers on my own.

My right leg bounced nervously as I tugged on the bottom of my shirt. I looked around the station, men and women decked out in uniforms walking around with handfuls of paper. In an attempt to try and calm myself, I played with the ring Dean had given me the other day, swirling it around on my thumb. It was a simple silver band with a circle engraved all around the outside.

"Hey, are you alright?" Dean asked from beside me, and I knew I must've shown some obvious signs of discomfort if he was asking me straight up.

I could only shake my head, not wanting to elaborate anymore than I had to. For some reason, I felt like a criminal with the amount of eyes glancing at me from time to time. Police officers made me uncomfortable. Actually, now that was an understatement.

I hated police officers.

And not in the 'oh I hate them so much they gave me a parking ticket!' type of way, but in a 'they can literally kill me and get away with it' type of way.

And in most cases, when it came to claims of abuse and rape, police tended to do nothing about it.

I was thankful that the latter didn't happen to me, sex with Devon only occurred in the first year of our relationship before everything went to shit.

Shaking away those thoughts, I allowed myself to breathe. I didn't mean for it to sound like all police officers were bad, however was I in support of a system created purely from racism? No, definitely not.

And in my personal experience, this white oriented system wasn't always going to help a person of colour in need. Especially one with limited resources who came from a south asian background.

In my moments clouded by thoughts, a police man had come up to me, neutral expression and I forcefully returned it. Every second I spent here, the more anxious I got.