The Pros of Cons

3 | My First Interrogation

The hospital was unruly this time of night. The smells were unpleasant. I was encountering odours I simply haven't encountered before. It wasn't long before the doctors had me in hideous hospital sweats and socks. I wasn't allowed to wear shoes. Although, the only shoes I had were my stilettos. 

After a series of tests, it was concluded that I most likely had a concussion. I was given orders to monitor myself for the next several weeks. Apparently, I was at risk for internal bleeding — although very unlikely. I had to keep an eye on the size of my pupils and how many headaches I got. Aside from all of that, I was pretty okay considering what trauma my body had just been through. I did have to get a few stitches. Somehow, I had managed 27 years of never getting a single stitch... until now. My forehead and my leg — specifically where Officer Cons had to cut to get the bomb off. It had left a pretty gnarly gash.

I wasn't cleaned up in the slightest. The police wouldn't let me go home to shower. They wouldn't even let me contact my roommate to let him know what was happening. No. Instead, I was immediately brought to a police station... and now I was waiting my turn to give a statement. It was "crucial" that the first thing I do before anything after an incident like this is to recall the events "in every detail." The longer I sat in the cold, hard chair, the more restless I felt. I hadn't slept. I hadn't eaten anything except for a few peanuts the nurses had given me.

What the heck was I even needed for? A statement to what? I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I really shouldn't walk down streets alone late at night. There. End of story.

I looked over at the clock on the wall. It was 4:00 in the morning. I shuddered. I hadn't even been told if my purse was found. I had no way to contact anyone. Levi was probably freaking out. He knew I had a date, and we usually told each other if we were spending the night somewhere else. We were pretty responsible that way.

"Really," I said to an officer who was sitting at her desk across from me. I could tell I was getting on her last nerve. They had incidentally placed me too close to her. Therefore, she had to undergo all of my questioning. And I had a lot of them. "If you just let me call someone, I would be a lot more relaxed."

No response.

"Don't I have rights?"

Nothing.

I was contemplating faking a rupture from my head injury to get her attention when my name was called out. It wasn't an officer I was familiar with, but I stood up with eagerness to get whatever it was over with. I eyed his name tag. Officer Bryant. He seemed older than Conlins, but not by much. I supposed it was just the beard he had.

I followed him to a room that had nothing in it but a chair and a table. "Is this an interrogation room?" I blurted.

"You aren't being interrogated," he replied. "You can take a seat and an officer will be with you shortly. In the meantime, please write down everything that happened tonight on that pad of paper. Please be as detailed as possible, whatever you can remember. Too much is better than too little."

I just nodded with a sigh. "It won't be that long. I mean, everything kind of just happened at once."

"Still be thorough. Would you like some water? Coffee?"

"Coffee, I guess. Thanks."

And so, I sat. And wrote. I ended up writing five pages worth before I heard a door open and heavy footsteps enter.

I looked up. Oh.

It was him... the officer that saved me. Officer Conlins. Sala. He told me earlier his name was Sala. I couldn't help it, I smiled. I was happy to finally be with someone I was sort of familiar with. "Oh, hi!"