Bad Choices

two

Late night thoughts: The Warehouse smells like feet.

The steel bench I'm sitting handcuffed to is cold. So cold I can feel it through my jeans. My back is hurting from the uncomfortable position I have to sit in.

The closest police station in my town is so small they don't have any cells, so when no one does something major and they are too lazy to drive to the next police station, they put the criminals chained to a bench in the same room the policemen are working. Not that there are many here anyways, I mean, it's late now.

"Hey, pumpkin," the woman sitting a meter away from me whispers. Her voice smokey and low with slight accent twisting her words. "What did ya do?" I turn my head to look at her. Her fire red hair has a black outgrowth and is half up in a big updo. Her black shorts small and her sparkling shirt even smaller. Her lips red and black eye makeup smudge out. She is not so close to me but I can still smell the alcohol and perfume that reeks from her.

My eyes meet with hers. Light brown. Blood shot.

I turn away.

"Hey, hey. Easy there." A dark male voice fills the small rooms as a man stumbles in, pushed by two police officers. "I know how to walk, my mama taught me real well." He says but stumbles slightly, clearly affected by alcohol.

He gets pushed down on the bench opposite mine and chained. His long legs buckled up and his tall frame needs to lean forward in a position that seems even more uncomfortable than my own.

He is wearing black jeans and an oversized gray hoodie. His dark brown eyes meet mine and a smirk spread along his handsome features.

Yes, he is very good looking. Dark skin, short chopped curls, full lips, structured face, septum piercing and tattoos on his hand and some disappearing up his sleeve.

"Gotta get in trouble more if I always will get seated across beautiful women. Tell me Angelface, do you come here often?"

And apparently a jerk.

"Do that kind of charm usually get you the woman at the police station?" I tiredly reply.

"No, only the men, sadly." he winks.

I roll my eyes and look away from him once more.

"So what did you do, Angelface?"

"She's not much of a talker, pumpkin," The woman that tried to talk to me earlier informs me, "Already tried,"

"Really?" I look up and see that he has raised one of his brows in challenge. "Okay so let me guess, robbed a bank? Killed Batman? dealt drugs? Was to beautiful to handle?-"

"Shut. up." I bite. I'm really not in the mode. My back hurts, the handcuffs are scraping my wrists, my head is pounding and atop of that I'm hungry.

He looks familiar I think to myself now that I have had a better look at him.

"Fisty." He smirks. The nose ring in the half style glittering under the light from the bright lamps hanging from the ceiling.

"Officer!" I yell, not breaking eye contact with the boy. "This guy is harassing me!"

"Shut up, both of you!" An officer yells back.

"You have a name, Angelface?" He leans over, whispering this time.

"Stop calling me Angelface,"I whisper scream back.

"If you tell me your name I-"

"You two, stop chatting!" An officer yells again.

"His threatening to kill me!"

"No, I'm not! She is a liar!" He also yells to the officer.

"You are right," I say quieter, "If I wanted to die I would just jump from your ego all the way to your IQ." I smirk.

"Zoranna Carter," A police officer walks into the room and I shoot my head up to him.

"Yeah," I mutter with a sudden interest.

"You are free to go." He says before kneeling down in front of me and taking my handcuffs off.

"About time." I rub my red wrists and stretch my back before getting up and walking out of the all to familiar police house before the familiar looking stranger has anything to say.

"Anna!" My mom's voice cuts through the quiet night. I close my eyes for a second or two. Preparing myself for what will come.

I don't say anything but walk past her and into the truck, she not long after.

"So you have nothing to say." She yells as she starts the motor and rolls out. The car smells like her. Smoak and rose perfume. A horrible combination.

"Yep." I look out the window even though it's only darkness out there.

"You need to fucking think! Can you get that into your stupid little head! I don't have money to bail your sorry ass out of mother fucking jail!"

"It's my money!" I yell back, turning to look at her.

I hate that I look like her. Sure, there's a lot that tells us apart. Like her platinum blond colored hair that she always wheres up in voluminous hairdos. her slightly wrinkling badly tanned skin and her botox lips. But her green-brown eyes, her naturally black hair, and high cheekbones. That, that I got from her.

"And next time don't fucking pay my bail than!"

"Great! So I will be the mom with a daughter in jail!" She says through gritted teeth. This is what I can't stand about her. It's always about her. Even when I commit a crime it's not about me, she never asks why I do what I do or if I'm fine. She just talks about her and how it will effect herself.

"Well, you're the woman whose husband is in jail!" I yell back. My heart pounding fast in my chest and eyes twitching. She won't reply to that. I know she won't.

I look over to her once more. Big gold hoops hanging from her ears. Her eyelids colored black and her cheekbones carved out. A chain necklace matching the earrings. Dressed in black leather pants and a red tight shirt with black heels.

"You were on a date." It's not a question. It's a statement.

"As a matter of fact, yes I was. Not that that matters anyway. You ruined everything like you always do."

It's not my fault I wanted to yell. What dad did is not my fault. But I don't. If I were to yell that it would be more to myself than to her anyways. So I shut my mouth and stare out the window.