Dancing on Eggshells

This is the part when I feel like I'm on a cheap version of Law and Order

They did put it on the news-the radio news.
"And just in", the radio reader announced, "a thirty four year old woman has been arrested after she was found physically assaulting a fourteen year old teenage girl in Catherine Street, Jamaica Plains. The anonymous woman is a teacher at South Cambridge High School and the girl she attacked was described as her pet student. It has been informed that the woman has a severe case of bipolar disorder due to childhood trauma. The victim was not badly harmed yet left her attack with severe scratches, back pain and a twisted ankle.
The suspect is expected to enter the insanity plea in an emergency court session tomorrow morning where she will be defended my one of the best mental health lawyers in Boston, Melinda Wang".
Yes, I forgot to mention that my ankle was in so much pain that I actually want to remove it from my body with a butcher knife and throw it in a toxic pond to decompose.
I heard this news report at 8pm. I had gone with my dad to pick up some sushi we had ordered for dinner from this Asian restaurant five minutes away from our home. We were listening to a radio station that plays many songs from the 90s , 80s and other decades that Dad considers to have 'good music'. Fortunately for him, George Benson's Broadway started playing and he turned up the volume and sang, the lyrics under his breath. To be honest, he wasn't singing- he was just mimicking the sound of George Benson's husky voice and not singing the lyrics, not knowing them in any case.
After the song ended, a woman read the news and I felt the car caving in on me.
Yet, there are other things to explain. Especially what happened at the police station.

I really expected the police station to be cool and mysterious like in all those idiotic cop shows-but it honestly just looked like a shit version of the physical office in The Office. There were the cops trying to look like 'the shit' in their uniforms , try ultimately failed.
Whilst I was driven to the police station, the blonde woman who had escorted me allows me have to my own space in the back of the car and sat at the front with the cop driving. She introduced herself as Ramona.
"Ramona Flowers". I muttered after I heard her name.
"What"? She said, probably thinking I had gone mad.
"There's a chick named Ramona Flowers in this movie called Scott Pilgrim vs. The World".
"Never heard of it".
The topic was immediately changed my Ramona who was more concerned about physical and mental well being after the attack. She started to ask me about my parents and their contact details. I immediately gave it to her and she said she'd call them as soon as we arrived at the station.
"What were you doing with your English teacher in the street"? Ramona asked.
"You know, just trying to get her not to do anything stupid-I guess I failed that objective", I replied, "it's really complicated ".
"I can see", Ramona said, "what's your teacher's name"?
"Celeste Rowell Waldorf". Even the sound of her name tasted sour on my tongue.
"And you say she's bipolar"?
I suddenly shrugged as I felt myself escaping to an innocent and victim -like state. I decided to take advantage of the fact that I had scratches on my ankle and the memory of my English teacher losing her mind. I ignored Ramona and instead tilted by head to look out the window. I knew it was tinted on the outside, I could stare at absolutely anybody on the street and they wouldn't know. I felt like a team of investigators standing behind the glass window of an interrogation room, I was an audience with power.
"She's probably going to enter that insanity plea". The cop driving commented.
"I have no doubt she will". Ramona replied.
"Are they going to question the girl"?
"Simmons, she can hear you. You're acting like shes comatose".
"More like catatonic", the cop driving said, "looks that way from the mirror".
"She isn't- she would still be able to hear you if she was".
The cop scoffed. "How do kids get themselves into this shit"?
"They're prey, Simmons".
"By their English teachers"?
Ramona sighed. "Len, when are you going to comprehend that there are just insane people in the world"?
"That chick needs to be locked up with all the other crazies".
"Len, what that does have to do with what I just asked you"?
"It doesn't have to do with anything, I'm just saying it so the girlie we're escorting realizes she was the prey".
I let myself escape my slumped state as I felt the need and desire to defend myself.
"She didn't mean any of this to happen". I said, my voice stern and defensive.
"You mean she just accidentally tore your skin and hurt your ankle"?
"She didn't know what she was doing, her psychosis glued a net around her brain that made her actions completely psychotic!"
"How the hell do you know what a damn psychosis is? Did your teacher give you some sort of lesson on the shit going inside her head"?
"Len...enough". Ramona said in a stern yet calm tone.
For a moment, I thought that Len would ignore Ramona and carry on sparring with me. Yet, he obeyed and kept quiet for the rest of the ride. So did every living soul in the car.