Falling Hard

Arrested

My parents were gone for the weekend. They went to visit Clara and didn't take me with them. Not like I would have wanted to spend hours in a car with my father anyway.

I left Brandon's to run home. I wanted to get some things while my parents were out of town. He offered to tag along and keep me company but I wanted some alone time. I needed to clear my head.

The front door was locked. I pulled my keys from my pocket and tried unlocking the door. Nothing. I tried another key. Nothing.

I kicked the door before running my fingers through my hair. How was I supposed to get inside?

Aha.

I ran to the side of the house and pushed the window open. Mom always kept a window in the kitchen open in case she locked her keys in the house.

I stared at everything around me. It was all familiar but I felt like a stranger. I wasn't welcome in my home. They changed the locks and I had to break in to get inside.

This wasn't okay.

I ran up the steps and pulled my duffle bag from under the bed. My room was still a mess, my bed still unmade. My French book was still collapsed on the floor.

I grabbed it first and put it in the bottom of the bag. I tossed several outfits inside and my phone charger. I stared around my room, wishing things hadn't got to Hell. I loved my family and wouldn't wish anything bad on them. No matter what happened between us.

I missed the warning signs, the knock, the call-out. I missed the red and blue lights flashing in my window. I was oblivious to everything.

What I didn't miss was the police officer who walked into my bedroom while I was zipping my duffel bag up.

"Sir, I'm going to need you to take a step back and put your hands in the air."

Slowly, I rose to my full height and dropped the bag to the floor. I put my hands up and seconds later, the police officer pulled my hands behind my back and handcuffed me.

My brain is foggy. My thoughts are jumbled and messy. I can't think straight.

"Wha-what's going on? Where are you taking me?"

"Over to our station. We just want to ask you a few questions."

"I-I don't understand." Why was I being arrested? In handcuffs no less. I hadn't done anything wrong. I wasn't a criminal.

The officer lead me out of my room and to the stairs. "You're trespassing."

"How is it trespassing? I live here." I said, chuckling as if this was some joke.

"We received a call from a Joseph Flores that there was an intruder in his home."

My jaw dropped. My own dad called the cops on me? How did he even know I was there? Did he install security cameras, infra-red lights, alarm systems? Clearly this wasn't the same man I'd grow up with. It wasn't the same man I'd called 'dad' for sixteen years.

---

I sat in a concrete bedroom with my knees drawn to my chest, trying to stay warm. It was raining outside and my clothes were soaked and sticking to my body. The police station was cold, air conditioners blowing even in November. Maybe that was their way of punishing the prisoners. Of punishing me.

My wrists were red and they stung. I felt like Hell. My skin was covered in goose bumps and my eyes were puffy from crying so much. I wasn't normally a crier but you wouldn't know that from looking at me.

"Angelo, you get one phone call." An officer said as he unlocked the door. He pulled it out and stepped back so I could walk out. He was taller than me and had a thick beard. His hair was cut short, revealing a receding hair line. His badge read 'MARTINEZ.'

He handed me a quarter and nodded his head at a pay phone.

Without another word, I went to the phone and dialed a number I knew well.

He answered on the third ring. "Hello?"

"Oh, my gosh, Brandon!" I cried, nearly losing it with the officer watching me. My knees were weak but I had to stay standing to talk to Brandon.

"Angelo? What-are you okay?"

"I-I need you to come get me."

"Did something happen? Is your car broken down?"

"No, I-I'm not... I'm not there..."

"Angelo, what's going on?"

"I-I... I'm at the police station. They arrested me."

"They did what?!"

I sighed and ran a hand through my wet hair.

"Mom and I are leaving now. Just relax, Ang, okay? We'll get this straightened out."

I wanted to believe that he would do anything for me. But things seemed so screwed up that I wasn't sure it was possible to fix me. Maybe I was just hurting Brandon. Maybe our relationship was just a waste of his time.

The officer walked me back to the cell and locked it once more, trapping me with so much guilt and hatred that it threatened to swallow me whole.