Surviving The Blues

21

Most of the other seniors and teachers have left already. My dad hasn't come yet. I am waiting at the terminal for him. My wheel is broken and I lift my bag and instantly regret it. It's been a month and some weeks since this last happen. My right shoulder pops out of its socket. I don't have time to react because I feel myself drifting away again.

"You are all  under arrest." The officer said. One of their hands were on their guns. "Put your hands up!" He yelled.

"What did we do?" Titus.

"Hands up!"

"Titus, please." I looked at him pleadingly.

He sighed. He calmed down. The officers grabbed Titus first, roughly throwing him against the car. Another grabbed me. He held me too tight and I hissed slightly.

"Yo, be careful with her arm." I heard Titus saying.

"Stop resisting." I heard the officer yell to him.

"Aye." He yelled. " You are hurting her." Right that second, the cracking sound pierced the air. My right arm came out of its socket as it does with too much trauma. It happened quickly. I hear wrestling. The other officer let me go and rushed over to the other one trying to restrain Titus. "Let me go, bro. Let me go." He got out of the officer's hold.

"Titus." I screeched. Christopher stepped in, running towards them. One of them put Titus in a headlock. He grabbed the officer trying to get him to let go. I ran over to them. "Guys. Don't!" I yelled. They have both of the officers on the ground and I approached them, my arm in pain. I tried to help.

*Pop*

"... girl." I hear faintly. "Camera girl." I hear. "Faith." I hear. "Faith." A feel something touch me.

"Ahh," I scream gasping from the air. My eyesight starts to focus. The blurry image in front of me starts focusing.

"Um... can I touch you?" I hear the person say. My chest is rising up and down quickly as I try to regain my breath. People turned around and looked at me when I scream. I don't know what I say. He takes the bag from my hand. I didn't realize it was still in my hand. His hand touches my shoulder. I took my sweater off and forgot to put it back on so it is visible my arm is out of place. "It is dislocated." He says. "You need to go to the hospital."

"My dad is coming," I mutter. I hear my phone ringing and I take it out. "Huh?" I answer.

"Is that how you answer your father?"

"Sorry. Hello father." I correct.

"I can't get off work. I put extra funds in your account, order an Uber." He says.

"Okay. Goodbye." I end the call. I look down at the screen and open the Uber app. My phone is snatched out of my hand.

"What are you doing?"

"I have to be home by 6 pm. What time is it?" I mumble, slightly dazed. "Yes, 5:50."

"You need to go to the hospital first," he says.

"I usually put it in myself."

"This isn't the first time this has happened?"

"At least three to five times a year for the past eight years." Glendale number two doesn't say anything. He grabs my bag and starts to pull with his own. He lifts it when he realizes my wheel is broken. "What are you doing?"

"I am going to help you with your arm, then take you home." He says.

"No. No. No." I say, stopping.