A loud knock at the apartment door wakes Elliot from his deep slumber. He looks over at the clock on his nightstand, it reads 3:45 AM. Sitting up from his comfortable, silk-sheet-covered bed, he runs his fingers through his sandy blond hair. With a groan, he gets up, nearly tripping over his own thin, long legs.
Dragging his feet against the wooden floor, he walks out of his small bedroom and heads toward the front door. He slaps his cheek in an attempt to wake himself up, but it's no use. Elliot had been up until 1 AM finishing the pile of work he'd been avoiding all week.
Another loud knock makes him jump. Well, he's up now, that's for sure.
"NYPD! Open up before we come in with force!"
Elliot's blue eyes go wide. He quickly walks the rest of the way to the door, unlocking the two locks with shaking hands.
When he finally opens it, a process that only takes seconds but feels like hours, he comes face to face with a stern-looking police officer, handcuffs ready in his hand.
"Are you Elliot Martin?"
Elliot gives a small nod.
"W-what are you here for?" he chokes out, his voice laced with shock.
"You are under arrest for the murder of Sarah Jones."
The officer grabs Elliot's arms and forcefully turns him around, surely leaving bruises in the process.
"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."
Elliot barely registers the words as the officer pulls his arms behind his back and snaps the handcuffs on, restricting all movement.
"You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you."
Elliot doesn't resist as the officer keeps a painful grip on his arm, guiding him outside.
As they descend the cement stairs leading up to his apartment, Elliot tries his hardest not to fall. The flashing red and blue police car lights sting his tired eyes, and the voices coming through the officer's radio buzz sharply in the early morning air.
When they reach the car, the officer forces Elliot's head down, barely giving him time to get his legs inside before shoving the door closed with unnecessary force. He says something into his radio before getting into the car without a word.
The backseat of the police car is anything but comfortable. Between the cold, hard plastic bench, the cramped space barely containing his five-foot-nine frame, and the uncomfortable strain on his arms, Elliot wishes more than anything to wake up in his bed and realize this was just a terrible nightmare.
But when the car pulls up to the police station and he's yanked out, greeted by the flashing cameras of paparazzi, he realizes this nightmare is unbelievably real.
The cop Elliot has already grown to hate leads him through several locked security doors, each one letting out a terrible squeak as it opens. Eventually, he's passed off to another officer, an elderly woman this time.
Elliot silently thanks God for what seems to be an angel compared to the last cop. She carefully removes his handcuffs and walks him through the booking process, fingerprinting, mugshots, and a change of clothes. Finally, she allows him one phone call.
He dials his mother.
As soon as she picks up, he hears her screaming about seeing him all over the news and how she's going to fix it.
The call ends too soon. Elliot didn't say much, not that he needed to. His mother could talk enough for three and a half people... maybe even more.
As the weight of the situation settles in, he tries to ignore the sick feeling twisting in his stomach since the moment the police knocked on his door.
He's handed off to yet another officer, this one much taller than the last two, even taller than Elliot. He's stern like the first cop, but not as dreadful.
As they make their way down a heavily secured, foul-smelling hallway, inmates yell, bark, and stare at him. With every cell they pass, the eerie feeling in Elliot's stomach only grows.
Soon, they stop in front of an empty cell. Another officer steps forward, pulling out a shiny silver key to unlock the heavy creaking door, the one that will keep Elliot away from the world for who knows how long.
As he steps inside, his eyes scan the tiny space. A small steel toilet sits in the corner. The floor is wet with something he doesn't want to think about.
Before he can process anything else, the barred door slams shut behind him with a resounding finality.
"You'll be transferred to the Manhattan Detention Complex in the morning," the tall officer says before walking away, his footsteps echoing down the hallway.
Elliot sinks onto the cold metal bench that he assumes is supposed to be his bed. With a slow exhale, he blows a strand of hair from his face.
What the fuck just happened?
YOU ARE READING
The Death of Sarah Jones (ManxMan) ✔️
Short Story"What are you in for?" A deep voice startles him. Elliot jumps and sits up at the edge of the bed, unable to find his voice. He hears rustling from above before a tall man with dark skin and striking blue hair drops down from the top bunk. The man s...
