Runner

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"Step out of the vehicle and wait on that white line." The officer instructed. To my surprise, he spoke to me calmly, and almost in a calming manner. It confused me, this isn't what I expected going to jail to be like.

"Look, the worst they'll do is give you a year in prison without bail or parole. Now, I know that sounds bad, but you can come back from it by simply changing your behavior." He said, in a western accent, as he kneeled to be on my level.

"Why are you being so... nice?" I questioned. I felt like I was in the twilight zone.

"You're obviously scared, which is understandable. I'm just trying to reassure you, that before you go in here, it's not the end of the world. Does that make sense?" He responded.

"Yeah, it makes sense, but I'm not scared. This is nothing more than annoying." I said, trying to save my pride.

The officer chuckled before grabbing one of my hands that were cuffed in front of me.

"Step out of the vehicle and wait on that white line." I slowly got out of the car, almost falling.

"Careful there. Are you dizzy?" He questioned,

"Yeah, a little." I lied. Hoping that maybe it would change my outcome of going into the jail building.

"I'll tell the staff, and hopefully, they'll get someone to check you out." He said as he began to lead me into the building. Welp, there goes that plan out of the window.

As we entered the building, the immediate dullness of all color hit me. All the walls, chairs, and furniture followed the color scheme of tan, brown, and grey. How exciting.

"This young lady needs a holding cell until we can get a transfer to court the next morning." The officer spoke to the man at the window.

"Her trial's tomorrow?" Window man questioned.

"Yep. That's the plan. I'll go over all her information with you after she's locked up. She's a runner." The officer said, lowering his voice on the last part. I could still hear him, though, and he wasn't wrong. I did run from the bridge.

The other officer stood up, and came out from behind the window. He grabbed a pair of keys and practically drug my arm and body all the way to a cell before unlocking it and throwing me in.

"Way to be gentle." I commented.

"I don't apricate sarcasm, little miss." He said as if he was trying to intimidate me.

"Noted." I replied annoyance was laced through my entire tone.

I looked around the cell, that I was to spend the night in. There was a rusted silver toilet that was connected to a small sink that had zero soap. Then there was a small and skinny hard metal bed that had a sad excuse for a mattress thrown on top.

As I laid down onto the "bed" I realized just how much trouble I had gotten myself into. I felt so... hopeless. Many thoughts raced through my head as I tried to fall asleep; the most prevalent of those was

"I want to die."

209-DizzyWhere stories live. Discover now