I quickly caught up to the teen, who kept tripping over his own feet. When I got to him he was attempting to stand back up. I harshly yanked him to his feet, not giving a single fuck about his feelings. "Ow!" He exclaimed, "You bitch!" "I could say the exact same thing to you. Cool it, before you dig yourself into a deeper hole." I glared. He visibility swallowed. I lead him, without incident, to the security office. I pushed the door open, and walked inside. Grim shot up out of his seat, "Ghost! You caught him. How are you? How's your head? Is anything broken?" He was beginning to ramble. "I'm fine," I assured him, grabbing the keys for the holding cell. I unlocked the door and pushed the teen in. "Wait, what about the cuffs?" He asked. Grim smiled, "It's procedure to leave the cuff on until the police arrive." "I'm heading back down to the pretzel stand to talk to the vendor. Bye," I said as I walked out the door. As I walked back to the south wing I noticed a lot of people staring at me. I shrugged it off. It's probably because I look too young for this job. I walked up to the stand, where the vendor was serving a much nicer costumer. When he turned around his happy smile quickly turned into a look of horror. "Oh my god, what happened to you?" He exclaimed. I raised an eyebrow, "What do you mean?" "Have you looked in a mirror?" He asked. I shook my head. He sighed, motioning me behind the counter. He pointed to the mirror over the sink. "Oh," I murmured as soon as I saw my reflection. That's why they were staring. A patch of blood trailed down my face from the wound on my forehead. I unwrapped the bandana from my face to get a better look at the wound. Luckily the wound was no longer bleeding, and had started to scab. It'll scar. I scar so easily and the fact that I nervously pick at scabs doesn't help. "It looks like it's already starting to heal. That's good," commented the pretzel guy. I nodded, " about needing to record your experience, we don't necessarily have to. There is a camera that caught the whole thing if you don't wanna talk about it." He- Matthew, I just saw the name tag, shook his head, "Nah, I'm cool to talk about it." "Ok then Matthew," I said, " I'll get out the audio recorder, but the cops are probably going to want to do their own interview as well." "Oh yeah that's fine and -wait, how did you know my name?" I smiled, "Name Tag." He let out a sigh of relief, "I thought I had a stalker there for a minute. Oh! You should probably wash the blood off of your face before it dries." "Ok, I will. Can I use the sink in here?" I asked. He nodded. I turned to grab some paper towels when I heard running footsteps. " MATTTTTTIE!" A voice shouted. I turned at the voice to see a man in a police uniform barreling towards us. He tackled Matthew into a hug, "Oh my god Mattie are you ok? Did you get hurt? Who do I have to taze?" I can see the physical resemblance, but those personalities are wildly different. He held his brother at arm length, scanning him for injuries, "Why do you even have a part time job, you don't need it. And now this happened. Are you ok?" "I'm fine," replied Matthew, " she stopped him before things could get physical." The police man turned to face me, "Hey thanks for- HOLY SHIT WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR FACE!" "The same man who verbally abused your brother pushed me down the stairs," I shrugged. "Wait, WHAT," Matthew raised his voice in alarm. "Oh yeah, I didn't mention that yet," I mumbled. "Are you ok, dude?" Asked Srg. Jones. "I've easily dealt with worse Sergeant Jones, I'll be fine," I replied. "How did you know my name?" He asked. "Name tag," Matthew and I said at the same time. Jones raised an eyebrow, but shrugged it off. "Oh, I'm glad you're here so i don't have to track you down," he pulled an audio recorder off his belt, "I need an incident statement from you as well. I'll do Mat's down at the station so I can keep an eye on my bro." I nodded, "let me wash the blood off my face first." "Wait, let me take a picture of the injury before you wash anything off," Jones pulled out his phone, "Evidence against the guy." I nodded and looked at the camera with a blank expression. The phone clicked. "And now a close up," the phone pointed at my forehead. Another click. "If also like to get a picture after the blood is washed off is that ok?" He seemed concerned. "Yeah it'll be fine," I turned to the sink and ran some paper towels under the water. "Do you have any other injuries?" Asked the cop, who was now scrolling through Instagram. "Hmm," I hummed wiping blood off my face, "other than the ton of bruises that are going to pop up overnight, no." I finished cleaning all of the blood off my skin, and finally got a good look the wound. A gash going across one side of my forehead disappearing slightly into my hair. I turned back to the two brothers. "Oh damn," murmured one while the other said, "are you sure that you're ok?" I smiled slightly and shrugged. The phone clicked one more time. "Ok, let's do the interview shall we!" Exclaimed Jones, "now in your experience, what happened?" "Well," I started, "I was about half an hour into my shift....
-------------Time skip---------------------
Jones clicked off his audio recorder, "thank you." "No problem at all," I replied. "Hey," Matthew motioned me over, "do you want some soft pretzel bites?" "That sounds lovely, thank you." I smiled. He handed me a cup of warm, salty pretzel nuggets. "Hey Ghost," Grim spoke in my ear, " You can leave whenever you want, the police are leaving a few people behind to cover for you. They heard about your injury." "Ok," I spoke into the mic, "I'll drop my stuff off in a little bit." I turned back to Matthew and Srg. Jones, "I'm going to head home, apparently a few police are going to cover the rest of tonight's shift for me. Which is amazing, please thank them for me. And Matthew, thanks again for the food." They both nodded and said good bye. I walked off to the security office, when I got there Grim jumped up and hugged me. I patted him on the back awkwardly. I hate hugs. "Grim, Grim, I'm fine. Please let go," I awkwardly comforted him. He let go, looking sadly at me. "I don't wanna lose you," he murmured. "What do you mean?" I asked quietly. "I," he sighed, " you are one of my best friends. I feel like I could trust you with anything. And I get so scared when you get in trouble. I don't wanna lose the only person I can really talk to." That is so damn sweet. He might like me. Nah. He doesn't. I picked a sticky note, and pen off the table scribbling down a quick note. "If you ever want to talk or text outside of work," I handed him the note, "here is my number." "Oh," he seemed surprised, "ok thank you." I walked into the locker room and changed back into normal clothes. Placing my equipment where it goes, I walked back though the main room. Waving goodbye to Grim, I headed for the bus stop, finishing off the pretzel bites along the way.
