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Chapter 2 - Hell in a Cell

Lucy stepped into Filster police station looking like a hot mess. Her face was streaked with tears because she had cried throughout the entire ride. Her hair was all over the place. And just before getting out of the car, she had noticed a brown smear on her white shirt. It must have come from the dirty police car seat, and the thought of smearing herself with dirt from a possible criminal whilst taking a ride to jail rankled Lucy. It didn’t mean anything but somehow it made her feel even worse.

The station wasn’t crowded, but Lucy could hear a lot of voices coming from behind thin walls. She followed the detective across the central space to a table at the opposite end of the room. He sat her down and a female African-American officer settled into the seat opposite hers and asked for her basic information. Lucy held nothing back. Afterwards, she was taken to a room which held three plastic seats and a steel table as its only furniture.

“Sit on that one,” the detective instructed.

Lucy sat, and watched another detective walk in and close the door behind him. He sat beside the first detective, and both of them gave her hard stares from across the table. The air in the room was choking.

“Can you tell us what happened tonight? Start from the beginning,” the new guy said.

Lucy told them. She told them everything with the hope that they’d see why she’d done it. She was defending her ungrateful mother.

After the mild interrogation, Lucy was led into a small room and told to stand in front of the white background she’d seen many times on T.V. When she was handed the small board with figures written on it, the tears welled afresh. The officers waited till she stopped crying before taking her shots. The fact that this was a moment that would remain on record forever was what scared Lucy the most. This was her initiation ceremony as a criminal, potentially a murderer.

“Do I really need a mug shot?” Lucy asked in a trembling voice. “And am I really spending the night here?”

“Yes, you do and yes,” the female officer responded. “It’s for easy identification.”

“But it will on record forever. I’ll be tagged a criminal and be seen as one.”

“Just turn to your left, miss. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be, okay?”

Lucy obliged. She had no choice.

After her mug shots were taken, Lucy was then led to the back, down a hallway. She could hear loud noises coming from one of the cells. Officers rushed past them towards it, screaming at the top of their lungs at the inmates to stop fighting.

“They are fighting again?” the officer holding on to Lucy asked another.

“Yeah, but this time it’s bad. Palito slashed one of the black girls across the chest. There’s a bad cut and the other blacks are looking for blood. It’s Latino vs African American in there. It’s rough and we need more hands.”

“Damn, where did she get a knife?”

“Beats me,” the second officer shouted back as she rushed to join the others.

“Alright, you,” the officer said to Lucy. She turned her to the other side of the hallway and began to unlock a cell door. “You’ll be here until we get everything under control. There is a bloody fight in the female holding cell and I gotta see to that.”

Lucy looked into the cell. It was minute, hardly sixteen square feet, and it was also right next to a male cell.

“Wait, there are only men in there.”

“Yeah, but you’re not there with them. You’re here, in a different cell. Now get in.”

The officer didn’t wait for Lucy’s protest before shoving her in and locking the door behind her.

“Wait, you can’t just… wait.”

Lucy stared almost longingly at the officer as she sprinted down the short hallway. She swallowed and tried not to hyperventilate. Her thoughts were racing, driving her insane. She was in jail, this was real. Slowly, she turned around and scanned the adjacent cell.

The first person she saw was a knockoff version of John. He was bald with the same nondescript face, but with a pot belly and a tattoo of wings on his chest that was visible through his tank top. It was cruel that she had to be reminded of John when she was already going through hell. The second man was pretty small, but Lucy couldn’t assess more of his features because of the disturbing way he stared at her, so she looked away quickly. The last person in the other cell had red hair poking out his hoodie. She tried to see more but it would have been too obvious. He had his head bowed and seemed content with sitting in the corner and staring at the floor.

Lucy crawled to the other end of her small cell, and sat on the ground. She rested her back on the bars and prayed for the officer to return. It was obvious she would get no sleep tonight. Her panic wouldn’t let her.

The ruckus coming from the female cells got louder and soon, Lucy began to hear the sound of Tasers being used. Blood churning screams filled the hallway and caused hair to stand erect on Lucy’s neck. The cries were loud and chilling, relaying pain so intimately Lucy could almost feel the jolts.

Lucy shut her eyes, trying not to think about it. This was not a good place. A few moments later, she felt something grip her foot and opened her eyes in shock. It was the bald man from the other cell. He was kneeling against the bars separating their cells, and had slid his hand through the bars to clasp Lucy’s ankle.

“Hey, cutie. What’s your name?” Knock-off John asked her. He had a southern tang that did nothing to compliment his drab looks. His smile was irritating and all Lucy could see as she stared into his eyes was John.

“Please, get away from me,” she said, kicking out but unable to undo his grip. “I am not looking for trouble and I really don’t want trouble bothering me too.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he lashed, snapping forward and grabbing Lucy’s outstretched arm. He yanked her close, holding her against the metal bars. He leaned against the bars so she could see the red haze in his eyes. “Are you calling me trouble?”

Lucy yanked her arm away successfully but her response had only angered the man more. He grabbed her again, catching her by the back of her neck. Lucy gasped, tapping and scratching at his hand. He squeezed tighter. She couldn’t breathe.

“I could break you in half,” he roared. “When I ask you for your name, you tell me your name, you rude bitch? Do you know who I am?”

Lucy tried to speak but the pain at the back of her neck crippled her voice. She struggled, kicking and throwing lazy punches at the man, but he didn’t budge. And just when it felt like he was going to snap her neck in half, she heard him grunt loudly and felt his grip relax on her neck. She fell away from him, just as the red-haired man in the hoodie was punching Knock-off John in the guts, bringing him to his knees.

“Who the fuck are you?” Knock-off John grunted, and made to stand.

The redhead kept him down with two punches. A hard jab to his ribs and a quick follow up, right cross to his jaw. Lucy watched the man shut down like a malfunctioning laptop and crash to the floor. She rose to her feet and stared at the redhead, wondering how he knocked someone out so fast.

He gave her a quick glance, followed by a nod of acknowledgment before turning to walk back to his corner. Lucy was so stunned she couldn’t find her voice, so she simply watched as he sat and lowered his head again. She had to thank him. He had not needed to save her.

“Hey, hello,” she called out.

The redhead could certainly hear her but he gave no sign. It was Knock-off John who groaned, but didn’t rise. Fearful that she would end up waking her assailant again if she kept calling out to the redhead, Lucy kept mute and crept to the farthest end of her cell.

About five minutes later, the officer returned to the cell and began to unlock it when she noticed the man on the floor.

“Oh man, now who knocked out this guy?” she asked, bringing her hands to her hips.

No one said a word. The other man pretended to be asleep while Lucy stared at the officer awkwardly.

“No one wants to say anything, really?”

“I think he was drunk,” Lucy finally spoke. “But I’m not sure. He’s snoring, so it’s easy to tell he’s sleeping.”

It was obvious the officer didn’t buy it, but she asked no further questions. “Alright, Adams, come on, let’s go.” She gestured at Lucy.

Lucy glanced at the red-haired man but he didn’t raise his head. She wanted to at least thank him for saving her, it was the least she could do.

“Come on, I don’t have all day here.” The officer banged on the rails.

Lucy flinched before hurrying out of the cell. The officer led her through the hallway and into the female cell. Three of the inmates were handcuffed to the rails and the other one sat at the far end of the room. Two of the handcuffed ones looked scary with tattoos covering their entire body. They were speaking Spanish to each other when Lucy walked in, and they stopped to assess her. Lucy sat by the corner quietly, away from their reach.

“What are you in for, Chula?” one of the Mexicans asked her with a smirk on her face.

Lucy prayed that they weren’t speaking to her, but when she raised her eyes to take a peek, she found them staring.

“I ask, what are you in for, Chula?”

Hesitant at first, Lucy sat up. “Actually, my name is Lucy, not… Chula.”

“Did I ask you what your name is, Chula?” the woman retorted, this time without a smile. “I ask you a question, you respond, got it?”

“Or what?” Lucy found herself asking. She was surprised that those were the words that came out of her mouth, seeing that she was scared to bits.

“What did you just say to me?”

The woman yanked her hands in the cuffs aggressively.

“I mean, you’re over there, handcuffed and all. How are you going to hurt me?” Lucy responded.

She sighed, tired of all the drama that was going on in her life and the new ones piling up just a few minutes after she got to the station. “Look, ma’am, today has been horrible. I don’t mean to be rude to you, I’m just tired, that’s all. I’m sorry.”

A smile slowly formed on the woman’s face. “You’re the soft type, Chula. If you’re always like this, then the world will trample all over you, sweetie.”

“I’m not soft,” Lucy retorted.

“Oh come on,” the other Mexican chipped in. “You have the puppy dog eyes.”

“Now tell us, what are you in for?”

Lucy saw the blood stain on their hands and guessed they were actors in the recent fight the officers had been talking about. The fact that there was a black woman at the other end of the cell glowering at them also fueled her suspicion. Lucy swallowed hard. It was best to talk than to get stabbed.

“Well, I hit someone across the head with a baseball bat and knocked him unconscious.”

“Yikes,” the first lady responded. “Did he die?”

“I-”

“How could he have died?” The other one laughed. “Look at her arms, they are so thin.”

They must have been in the mood for jokes because they made one jesting remark after another and laughed over them, all of those remarks about her body and “innocence”. Lucy looked away. All of this was awkward.

“So, how old are you now?” one of them asked, when they’d finally stopped laughing.

“Eighteen.”

“Oh, a little baby.”

They began to chuckle again, but this time it didn’t last long.

“You have a long life ahead of you, Chula. You’re pretty, you know? You’ve got the face of one of these girls who walks the runway on T.V. If you can get out of this, then hurry. Prison won’t be good to you,” the first interrogator finally said.

“You can take that to the bank, Chula,” the other one chimed in. “We know a lot about ruining lives. We’ve ruined quite a number and ours too.”

They started laughing again and this time, Lucy wasn’t interested in listening any more. She turned to the wall and blocked out their loud conversation. Her chest constricted with sadness as she thought over the events of the evening. Was she ruining her life? She couldn’t say. But she also couldn’t think of one thing she would have done differently that night.

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