Sirens blare in the distance, growing louder and louder. Red and blue lights flash off the windows around us. The two kids break away, scattering in different directions.
Before I have time to react, a set of hands are on my shoulders, ripping me off the leader on the ground. I'm not even sure if I lashed out at the cop, all I see is red.
There are voices shouting as I'm thrown against a car, and my head is pushed onto the hood. Metal cuffs clasp my wrists, cutting into the skin.
“You need to calm down,” an officer says, pulling me up straight by looping his arm into mine.
“They tried to rob me!” I yell, trying to jerk myself free. “Arrest them! I didn't do anything wrong!”
“It certainly didn't look like you were having any trouble at all.”
“I was protecting myself!”
“We'll figure this out down at the station. Get in,” the officer commands, pushing my head down and shutting the door as I climb in.
At the police station, they take my fingerprints, and stick me in a cell. I'm not sure what happened to the other guy, but I don't see him.
Pressing my face against the bars, I call out to the officer at the desk. “Hey, don't I get a call or something?”
“You will,” he says, not looking up as he types on the computer.
Rolling my eyes, I drop back onto the bench and place my arms over my head. Sighing to myself, I close my eyes. Dozing off, I wake up, disoriented and confused.
Popping upright, I rub my eyes, realizing I'm still locked up in jail. Standing up, I grip the bars. “Hey, what the hell? When do I get that phone call?”
The officer glances up at me and clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Fine, you can get your call.” He comes and unlocks the door, stepping to the side.
Bringing me to the phone, I dial the only person I can. My brother. He isn't happy, he isn't happy at all. It's four in the morning, and he has to come bail me out of jail.
It doesn't take long. Grey shows up about twenty minutes later. He powers through the front doors, and heads right to the desk.
“I'm here for Ian Mason.” His tone is short. Tapping his fingers on the top of the desk, he breathes in slowly through his nose.
I know he's pissed. I can see it all over his face. His lips are down and there's a crinkle running across his forehead. Every muscle in his face is tense as his fingers rap against the wood.
The officer comes to the cell and lets me out. Grey glares at me as they push a small yellow bucket in my direction. Stuffing my wallet into my back pocket, I put my watch back on my wrist, and stuff my feet into my boots.
We walk out of the double doors together. Grey hasn't said a word to me, he's barely even looked in my direction.
“They tried to rob me, Grey.” He ignores me, continuing to his car. “I mean it, they tried to rob me, and when I wouldn't give in, they jumped me.”
Spinning on his heels, he pokes a finger hard into the muscle of my chest. “I don't give a fuck, Ian. I just had to waste two grand getting your ass out. I'm not sure what's been going on with you lately, but this shit needs to stop.”
“Dude, this isn't my fault.”
Grey scrubs his jaw, shaking his head side to side. “I haven't seen you like this since Dad walked out.”
“I told you what happened, you can either believe me or not believe me, I don't really give a shit.” Taking a step forward, my brother grabs my arm and holds me firmly. “Let me go, Grey.”
“You got your shit together once for Mom, and we did what we needed to until she—”
Yanking my arm free, I snap through clenched teeth, “I'm done talking. I'm going to work.”
“No, you're not. I'm taking you home. Have you seen yourself? You look like shit.”
“I don't care, I'm not going home. I'm going to work.”
“You need to go home and get some rest.” Grey attempts to reach out and grip my arm, but I take a long step away. Tipping his head into his shoulder, he furrows his brows. “I just think—”
Cutting him off, I hold up an open palm. “I don't care what you think. I want to work, so I'm going to work. You can either take me with you or I'll fucking walk there myself.”
Grey's eyes jump between mine. He sees it. He knows I'm not going to do what he wants me to do.
“Fine, get in the car.”
I can't go home. I'm not ready to.
I still can't see Heather.
9
Heather
It's twelve thirty in the morning, and Ian still isn't home. I heard him slam the door not long after he stormed out of my apartment. I didn't go after him, even though I wanted to. I just don't think it would have helped at all.