My Roommate

Chapter 39

~~~

Evan's POV—

Dad walks in with a nurse, and a couple of cops behind them. When the cops introduce themselves—a bit of tiredness behind their voices—it's clear as day that dad doesn't even want them in here.

I can't help but shift on the bed as I look at them. One is actually in a uniform, while the other isn't. That one is just in some gray suit with a couple raindrops sprinkled on his jacket. But he has a badge hanging from his hip.

"Can't this wait until my daughter doesn't have a concussion? Or at least until the morning," dad says, annoyance very clear in his voice. Officer Peterson only gives my father a side glance, his face choosing to remain neutral.

No hint of emotion.

"We just want to ask Evan a couple of questions. We won't stay long," Detective Moore responds as he takes a couple steps towards me. Dad, seeing as though he should just cooperate, doesn't say anything as Detective Moore stops in front of me.

Through squinting eyes, I look up at him.

The lights are messing with my senses, making it horrible to tolerate and making my head hurt far worse. And seeing how much it's bothering me, the nurse quickly walks up and hands me a pair of sunglasses that she had left to get for me.

"Can't this wait until the morning? My patient has a concussion, she shouldn't be—"

"It's fine..." I cut in, interrupting my nurse. She exchanges a couple of looks between them and me but just ends up nodding her head, still staying close. "Are you guys here to arrest me or something?" I ask as I lean back a bit.

When I do so, I glance towards Ashley, who's standing next to dad by the counter near the doorway to the hallway. A few people rush by, one of them barking out orders—the loudness of their voices makes me flinch as my ears ring.

"I see that the light and sounds are bothering you—"

"No shit Sherlock. I have a concussion," I suddenly snap, my head screaming at me.

For a couple of reasons.

One because my head really does hurt.

And the other because I should probably just shut up.

They're still cops.

Very capable of legitimately arresting me.

They choose to ignore it—this time.

"Are you drunk? High?" Officer Peterson asks me as he walks up to stand beside the detective.

"No. I haven't touched a drop of alcohol and I would never do drugs," I tell them. Though the thought of trying out marijuana does intrigue me a bit.

It's legal so it's not really something they can hold against me.

Unless I was under the influence of marijuana while driving or something.

That, I'm sure, is still a crime.

"And if we were to check your BAC level, or have you take a drug test—would they both be clean?" Officer Peterson continues.

"Yes," I say firmly.

"Moving on..." Moore says as he gives his partner, or whoever, a side glare. "What can you tell us about the accident," he asks me.

"I can't recall too many details, but the car was jacked—not working, I mean," I tell the detective. He slowly nods.

"Can you give any specifics?"