It wasn’t too long before a police car pulled up. Close behind was an ambulance. The cop in the passenger side jumped up and ran over to me. He kneeled down, looking at the blood spatter on my clothes.
“What’s your name?” He asked.
“Rose…” I stuttered. “Roseanne Sanchez.”
“Well, Rose. My name is Detective Andrew Wilkes. Can you tell me what happened?”
“He grabbed me from school and threw me in the basement…but I grabbed the frying pan and there was so much blood.” I sobbed.
“Rose, you’re safe now.” He tried to calm me down, but I couldn’t stop thinking about the blood. It was all over my hands and clothes. He was all over me. His essence was soaking into me, contaminating me. I screeched and started to rub my hands on my skirt.
“Get it off…” The paramedics rushed forward and pulled me onto a stretcher, placing me in the back of the ambulance to examine me. They scrubbed my hands and managed to talk me out of my delusive state. Finally, I gave Wilkes the story, and his partner drove off to the house to find the boy.
“Rose, you’re safe now.” Wilkes bundled me up and put me in the front seat of the car, leaving his partner at the scene while he drove me to the station. “You’re going home.”
At the police station, I sat in Wilkes’ office, wrapped in a blanket. He asked me the same questions over and over again. Did you know him? Run through the whole thing again for me. Wilkes had an assortment of photos of his family scattered around his office. It was oddly reassuring, as was Wilkes’ delicacy. After about half an hour, my mother came bursting in the door. She crushed me in one of her legendary embraces and cried, saying how sorry she was.
“Miss Sanchez,” he said “go home, get some rest. I think we’ve got what we need to wrap this up.” My mother nodded and practically carried me to the car. I’d never been so happy to go home in my life.
“Miss Sanchez?” A few days after the cops picked me up Detective Wilkes was at my front door. A wave of emotions crashed over me and I had to take a deep breath before shoving them away and answering Wilkes.
“Yes?”
“I realise this may be uncomfortable for you, but we need you to identify the body as the boy who abducted you.” I nodded, unable to feel anything. They’re going to make me see his dead body. I can’t do this. My mother came up behind me and wrapped her arms around my waist. “We know it was him, it’s just procedure.”
“Okay.”
YOU ARE READING
Stealing Roses
Short StoryIt wasn't my fault. They told me to do it. Rose said she loved me. Rose is just a normal teenager. But one day, after returning from a morning jog, she discovers a gift left for her in the form of a red rose. Little does she know that her present co...
