Aftermath

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐧𝐞

I exhale a breath of smoke with a shiver from the cold, the sun is rising behind the buildings, it's almost 6:30.

The shiver resurfaces the pain in my ribs and I wince, tossing my cigarette on the ground.

I walk down the dark damp sidewalk, It's usually a lot more happening, and I'd be scared if what I went through at home didn't desensitize me. As far as I'm concerned, nothing is scarier than what goes on behind those walls. Than what goes on behind my eyes.

Every other feeling has been beat out of me. Years of torment left me a crumpled mess of nothing.

Sometimes I look in the mirror, and the pure emptiness in my eyes scares me.

I regret stepping my cigarette out this early as I mentally prepare myself to go home. My step dad would hit me a second time in just 24 hours if he smelled even the faintest hint of smoke on me.

That makes me want to slow down and let the breeze carry the scent away, but I know it'll be worse if I'm not home in time to clean up their alcohol bottles before they're sober again.

The sun is getting higher in the sky and I'll be late to school if I don't get home early enough to clean up and get washed and dressed. I can't be late again or I risk expulsion and getting really really hurt at home. From my peripheral, I see a cop car slowing down a few feet behind me. I tense and pick up my speed a bit more, taking an unnecessary turn, hoping they aren't here for me.

I'm not even sure what they're here for, but I pick up my pace anyway. The car picks up the pace, so do I, he rolls down the passenger window, "Stop running, Bianca, you aren't in trouble this time."

Knowing I'm cornered, I stop with a huff, "What?"

Officer Thomas is a familiar face at this point with the amount of times not only have I been scolded but because people often call the cops on my house. They see me and assume something's wrong, or before when I wasn't careful enough, I'd let something slip and they'd get the feeling something was bad at home. But I'm nothing if not a good actor, and mom and John are even better.

John is good at acting like a model parent, mom is good at hiding her mess inside and pretending she's the best mother in the world. Which I used to think she was. Which I still think she could be.

Officer Thomas nods to the door, "Take a drive with me," He says.

"I'll pass," I say, turning back around and continuing home.

"Bianca, get in the car or I'll have to take you down in handcuffs and you don't get the privilege of driving up in the front seat," He says.

"Doesn't this violate my rights?" I say sharply.

"Get in the car, kid, you're gonna wanna hear this."

I sigh and open the front door of the cruiser, climbing in and sitting down.

"I need to get home, my parents will worry," I lie.

He doesn't respond and I realize he's hiding something. My heart races and the rest of the car ride to the police station is silent. I clench and unclench my fist anxiously as I follow Officer Thomas into the station.

The old woman at the receptionist desk tuts and shakes her head disapprovingly, I show her my un-cuffed wrists sarcastically, "Not arrested, bitch."

"Bianca, please," Officer Thomas says.

I follow him into his office and sit down in front of the desk.

"Tea?" He offers.

I shake my head, "Why am I here, Thomas?" I say, my frustration and anxiety are building at an unhealthy rate and if he stalls any longer I'm gonna snap.