Saving Isabella

Chapter 5: Out of the Frying Pan into the Fire?

So here I am now, sitting on an uncomfortable plastic chair in the police station's lobby, staring blankly at the chipped linoleum floor. A kind officer with a hint of pity in his eyes had handed me a scratchy gray blanket and a stale strawberry doughnut, which, for some ungodly reason, had tiny marshmallows stuck to it. I nibble on the doughnut, lost in thought, its texture so dry that it feels like I'm chewing on flavored cardboard.

Am I digging my own hole by going to live with my father? Should I have just told them I didn't know of any family members? The thought of him, this stranger who happens to be my father, sends a shiver down my spine. I'm angry at him for abandoning me, but more than that, I'm terrified of the unknown. What if he's worse than Jack? Worse than a stranger? I don't think I'd survive someone worse than Jack.

I keep glancing nervously from my scuffed sneakers to the officers at the desk. The lobby is buzzing with people—an old lady clutching her purse like it contains the Crown Jewels, a couple arguing in hushed tones, and a man who keeps pacing back and forth like he's about to combust. I don't dare open my bag, though. One look inside, and they might find something that would add a few more charges to my already colorful record. And after that, who would take me in? Definitely not my so-called father.

I need to run. Not because of the weed, but because of him. If I still have a father. I just need to wait for the right moment. I'm going to walk out casually, as if I belong here, as if it's just another normal day in my thoroughly abnormal life. Then, I'll keep walking until I reach a park or something, and from there, I'll head to Luke's place. I hate bothering Luke, but what choice do I have? The thought of my father makes my stomach churn with dread.

I glance anxiously at the officers again. They seem preoccupied with the growing crowd, so I make my move. I grab my phone and pull on the arm of a guy who looks a bit older than m e, with a mischievous glint in his eye. He looks surprised but intrigued, and I muster the courage to ask in a small voice, "Would you please distract the officers for me?"

A wide grin spreads across his face as he responds with a dramatic flourish, "Why, of course, m'lady. I was bored anyways"

The boy doesn't hesitate. He jumps the line and storms up to the officers, adopting an exaggerated angry face. "Excuse me!" he yells, loud enough to turn heads. "It's been 30 minutes! Do you have any idea who I am?" The officer he's addressing looks baffled, so the boy turns to the second officer, raising his voice even more. "Sir, Sir, SIR! Do you have any idea who I am?! I have important shit to do! I'm done standing here waiting for you two dumbasses to get your act together!"

The officers, clearly taken aback, try to calm him down, but the boy is relentless. He turns to the crowd, now on the verge of a full-blown spectacle, and shouts, "Aren't you tired of standing here all day?!" People start murmuring and nodding in agreement, some even joining in the protest. It's my cue. I grab my backpack, slinging it over my shoulder, and walk out confidently, as if I own the place. Confidence is key!

As I push open the doors, the chaos inside crescendos.

"This is my Jamie! She's been missing since..."

"Can't you get a fucking move on?"

"My precious car has been stolen, it's a green..."

"I've been standing here for two hours, someone stole my..."

I can't help but smirk at the chaos I've orchestrated so effortlessly. The sun hits my face as I step outside, warm and blinding. I merge with the crowd of tourists, blending in seamlessly. We make our way toward Central Park, the largest and most beautiful park in the city, with its expansive southern edge blending into a thick forest that feels miles away from the urban jungle. My plan is simple: hide in the forest until dark, then sneak out and head to Luke's place. I try calling him, but there's no answer. Could this day get any worse?