The sirens rang in my ear as I press down on the still body. Tears build up in my throat, I don't give them the chance to make an appearance. I pushed down hard on the wound. The more I push the more blood seeps out. Blood, the stuff was everywhere. "You can't die now," I attempt to pick him up.
*"Papi! Where are you?" I yell. My foot hits something. I look down to the body on the floor. "Papi! Wake up!-*
I shake off the memory, pulling him up. "No, no Rosy. It's time," he says, his voice hard and powerful. I swallow back the tears seeming to form again. I stare at him. I'd come to know the man in the span of the last few months, recovering past memories before the coma-. I shake my head brushing off the thoughts. A tear runs down my face. I shake my head hoping he didn't see it. He did and his eyes soften. He reaches his hand out to cup my face. "I'm so proud of you Rose," he says.
"Shh, don't talk, it's not too late," even as I say it, I know it's not true; he's bled out too much already.
"Remember, don't be sad that roses have thorns..." his voice hitches in his throat. I finish for him holding back tears.
"Be happy thorns have roses," I sob. Footsteps sound behind me. I get up instantly, grabbing the gun from his hand and pointing it in the direction of the sound. My hands shake, barely able to hold the gun straight. I'd killed and injured the killers of my father, guess they came back to finish the job- me.
"Drop the gun and put your hands in the air!" The cops meet my eyes instead and the sudden sirens fill my ears. I'm not happy to see them either. 'Be smart.' His words echo in my ear. I drop my gun and in an instant, hands are on my shoulders and arms. I go down silently and I don't hear what the person putting handcuffs on me is saying, I don't try to listen.
They push me into a cop car and I watch as they cover my father with a white sheet. I look away, tears brimming my eyes. The car jerks to life and I work on my handcuffs.
By the time, we reach the station, I have them off my wrists and in my hands. He opens the door and I think about making a run for it, but I decide against it, deciding there was someone I was dying to see- note the sarcasm.
I walk straight past him handing him back his cuffs. He must be a rookie; he just stands there shocked as I walk in the station. Wow, they had a rookie bring me in, they must really be low on people. I walk straight to the interrogation room, the room I remember knowing so well. 'Home, sweet home,' I think grimacing. I sit down in the chair and wait.
It's not long before he comes barging through the door, grumpy as usual. He gives me his famous death stare; it doesn't affect me; I've seen it too many times for him to have the glory of affecting me. I look back at him emotionless. He sighs and places the recorder between us. "What happened tonight Rose?" he asks.
"What do you care?" my voice comes out confident and bold. His expression turns cold.
"I've got bloody crime scene, two barely breathing gang members, a dead victim and a raging mafia rivalry on my hands, that's why." I study him for a second, weighing my options. I sigh.
"Your two gang members killed my father."
***
He asked me a couple of more questions then took me to the waiting area. The old man was actually getting old, should retire. As much as I can remember, he'd watched me grow up. Any other situation, I might've been sympathetic for him. He takes me to the waiting area, handcuffing me to the seat. "Stay here," he says
"Oh, I wouldn't dare," I say dead ass. He sighs shaking his head, walking away. You would've thought by now, they'd realize handcuffs didn't work on me. I lean my head back against the wall and stare at the white ceiling. I'm halfway asleep when I hear a voice behind me.
"Hey kid, how about we go get you some food." I look up to comrade looking down at me. I smile a little.
"Hell yeah," I say. I stand up and he notices the handcuffs dropping and smiles. We make our way to the doors through the chaos of the precinct. "Shouldn't you let your boss know you're kidnapping me?" I ask.
"I don't think he would mind," he laughs. We walk out into the cold night.
YOU ARE READING
Rose
Teen Fiction"Nothing, don't worry Rosa." And with that, I didn't press the matter, for he called me Rosa, a name which I know means serious and seriousness means death, only this time, I don't know who's had to die. Rosa is a seventeen year old girl from Cali...
