The Supposed Terrorist

Chapter 2

I woke up, muscles sore, at what I assumed was 4 or 5 am. The sun wasn't up and the people at duty were different. My inmate was fast asleep. With superficial placidity, I walked to the stained mirror and stared at my own face sluggishly. It was thin, worn out and dark circles were present under the eyes. My hair was unwashed from a hot while and tangled. I tucked the locks behind my ears and continued to stare. The grey eyes that stared back at me were soulless.

Nonchalantly, I picked up the small broken piece of glass lying in the basin and scrutinized it. One edge of it was extremely sharp.

"Oi, don't you try anything dramatic." Blinding white light flashed against the mirror and I impulsively squinted my eyes. The cop on duty was alert of the mirror piece held in my fingers.

"Don't worry," I said, in an attempt to assure him. I disposed of the eye gunk at the corner of my left eye with the free hand. Before I could dispose of the glass shard, it slipped and a drop of blood trickled from my thumb. I squashed the shard under my feet and slid it under the basin. Good riddance.

Around 8 am, the guy now on-duty hit his truncheon on the bar. "Wake your inmate up. She has visitors."

Moving up to her corner, I prodded her gently. "Wake up. You have visitors."

Her eyes fluttered open. In what I swear was a blink, she had hastily moved to the bars, trying to peer outside. "It must be my dad."

"They say to move the body slowly and calmly after waking up," I said, walking up beside her. She practically jumped up and down trying to get a glimpse. "Not to become an excited 5 year old on Christmas."

"Whatever."

The cop opened the lockup and led her out. I watched as she stood curiously in front of the police desk, while a lawyer guy and the girl's father talked to the policeman. She was getting bailed out. Her father kept his arms around her shoulders as they left, murmuring words of consolation and relaxation. There was a noticeable relief on her face. She inconspicuously waved a good-bye to me, and they were out of the door.

"That won't be you," the officer said.

"Thanks for rubbing it in, man," I yawned.

Time passed slower today, and just me with my own company. Oh, and pleasant cops on duty. They truly knew how to keep a cheerful mood going (sarcasm intended).

I kind of missed that girl's company. At least she deigned to hold a normal conversation with me.

Dang it, I didn't even get her name.

Listless, I paced the lock-up, crashed against the skull-crushing mattress, made faces into mirror, examined the stains in the corners and made unhinged theories to myself of their birth– anything that could get a woman to pass time in a lock-up, but it was all so uninspiring and boring.

I wondered how long it took for the lawyer change to happen and if that Artem Wing was going to make his face shown today. The non-believer and pessimist Rico went on about how there was a high probability of nothing happening and I shouldn't keep any hope. Things could go wrong in several ways– the court could deny the change, Laura could refuse to drop it (improbable), or the guy could hit his head on a wall and realize that maybe he didn't wanna do all this. You see, extremely plausible possibilities?

I realized time passed easier when you weren't waiting for anything to happen, not even subconsciously. I wasn't waiting all my previous time spent in lockers and prison. I wasn't doing anything. I just was. Brain empty.

The bastard brain refused to be empty anymore. What a sad, cruel world.

"Your lawyer is here to visit you."