Throw Back Thursday

Thirty One

All of her bitchiness then made sense. Now, from an expression of God - knows - what, her head hung low in shame and embarrassment. I stood opposite her but took a few steps back. Being right beside her made me feel too uneasy. With another trace of thought, I ran over to my parents. They hugged me and my mum whispered,

"It's okay Liz. We love you and we'll get her arrested."

"Okay." I smiled. I really hope that they stuck to her word because I really wanted  to see her on trial.

It was a good half an hour wait before they came.

Although I'd seen Police encounters and interrogations on the TV, to experience them in real life is much more intimidating than you would actually think. Especially when you have a six foot officer breathing down your neck.

The atmosphere at that moment really scared me. This is really the only time I can say that I was actually nervous - you know, other than falling in love with a guy for the first time.

That particular chain of events has all become a blur to me now. I'm currently sitting on the bench outside the school building watching Miss Bridges being chained in handcuffs with her clammy hands behind her back and have duct tape over her mouth. She's screaming like a banshee, it's really disturbing me.

As witnesses, we are all chucked into a car too. They say that they don't want us for long.. What are they going to say to me?

    *    *    *

I'm inside the station and, once again, the atmosphere doesn't fail to creep me out of my (first hand) wits. The walls are painted a dingy grey and the word "POLICE" is painted on each and every single wall. It's done badly though, as it looks like it has been stenciled, or maybe it was. The registration desk is cluttered with paperwork; seems that there are a lot of common criminals in the making here. I hope they don't think I'm guilty. But would they? A flickering light distracts me - the eerie silence in this place makes me think twice about stepping out of line. This is like a dungeon, a correctional facility because people are too dumb to actually listen. No wait, that's exactly  what this place is.

"I'm sorry mum, I'm sorry dad, for all the trouble I've caused you." They raise an  eyebrow as if I'm crazy. "What?" A wave of guilt mixed with sadness and horror creeps in. "Where's Dannie? Is he okay? He's not alone, is he?" My parents hang their heads.

"Yes. Yes, he is. But he's fine. We called a babysitter." Who.. Why? He'll be scared as hell!  For once, I actually feel sorry for the little blighter. I huffed and agreed. At least he's not here. He'd probably be freaked out more than I am, he's only six. However - he loves these shows. I played tug of war with him yesterday (when I could actually be bothered to see him) and I ended up tearing this piece of paper in his hand which had a drawing of a mini police car and a flame. I don't know what the flame was for, but I thought the ambition was cute. But now I think, would he really want this? No.

For a second I feel claustrophobic, the walls are closing in and I am hyperventilating badly. I think I might be slipping into a coma! Someone help!

A door opens and a wrought iron one opens. I see people dressed in black and white striped pyjamas with a toothbrush and hands and feet like they haven't been washed for weeks. Criminals.

A sharp acute sound fills my ear drums. Snap, snap! We're told when she'll be put on trial. I'm the first witness. I need to have a case. No speech, he says, just tell the whole, under-oathed truth.

I exhale and take a pen out of my pocket to sign some documents. Don't tell ya friends about this.

Look nice. Dress the part. Be Elle. Be law savvy!

I then proceeded to, once I was home, watch undended re-runs of Law and Order and both of the Legally Blonde movies.