First Punch ➟ Kellic

T H I R T Y N I N E

The ride to the police station is completely silent, awkward, and tense. No one says a word and only the low hum of the police radio fills the air.

When we pull into the station and all get out, Lucas gets dragged off to some other room as I'm sat down at the cop's desk. He tosses a notepad across it and a pen shortly afterwards. I know how this works, I know they want me to write down everything that happened. Naturally though, I refuse. I once again force myself mute and grit my teeth as I look at the pig in pure hatred.

"You have to give me something," he requests, crossing his arms over his chest and looking equally as stubborn.

Maybe it's just my general distrust of the badge, but I know how they can twist things to make them appear worse or different than they were. Because of that, I'm reluctant to say anything at all.

The cop sighs, and I await whatever lame tactic he's about to throw my way. There's no way I'm talking. I'm not gonna say anything that may or may not be put on Lucas's record.

"Look," he starts, leaning forward and I roll my eyes, already annoyed. "I saw everything that happened and so did my dash cam. So unless you want me to charge him for assault, then you have to provide a statement explicitly outlining what you're not pressing charges for."

I just sit back in the chair, looking at him skeptically. I wish I had Jake here. Jake would know whether what he's saying is complete bullshit or not. Regretfully, I don't, and on the off chance that it is true, I decide to play along. I sigh in defeat, picking up the pen and getting to work.

I hesitate though, trying to think of a way to be as evasive as possible. I try to think like Jake and be smart about this. Eventually, after a few minutes of stalling, I write: I, Cooper Jones, am not pressing charges for the assault I received from one Lucas Mendes on April 24th. I put the pen down, satisfied with the response and toss the pad of paper back over before getting up.

"Not so fast," he stops me, making me internalize a groan as I turn back to him. "You're bleeding. Go sit over there and I'll have a medic come check you out in a few minutes."

I roll my eyes, but listen to him anyway. Honestly, my shoulder's fucking killing me and I'm mostly just hoping to get a prescription for something out of it. I head over to the main entrance, sitting in one of chairs he'd pointed to.

I watch as the cop disappears down some hallway, and I sigh as I realize he's probably going to talk to Lucas. I look down at my hands, picking at my fingernails to distract myself from the guilt. Maybe Lucas is the one who threw the punch, but I'm the one who deserved it. I'm the one who knew the cop was nearby. I'm the one who joined the gang that ruined their lives. I'm the one to blame.

After a while of sitting there resenting myself, a paramedic comes over to me, stating, "Seems like you're the guy I'm looking for," with a chuckle. I'm not in such a happy mood. My straight face and generally hopeless demeanour seems to quickly shut her up.

As much as I need her help, I'm still reluctant throughout the entire process. I'm just never comfortable around people, so taking my sling off, her cutting the sleeve of my shirt and uncovering my shoulder feels intimate. Only Jake has ever dressed my wounds.

"I'm gonna have to redo your stitches," she tells me. I sigh, hating that Lucas basically restarted the entire healing process.

"Fine," I mutter, hardly even looking her in the eye.

"Hold on, I didn't bring any lidocaine to numb you, so I'll be right back," she says, leaving her case behind as she stands up.

"It's fine," I tell her, gritting my teeth and trying to act tough. "I can handle it." I just want to get this over with as quickly as possible.