Forget-me-not

Cynthia

The situation was incredibly unusual. When people were arrested, they were technically, supposed to be booked into jail. Flora hadn't been booked into jail. Instead, she had been hanging out in a cell at the police station and losing her mind. All alone, she was finally reaching her breaking point. 

When an officer in uniform came into her cell, she thought that she might finally be moving to jail. Sure, it'd suck, but at least she'd be around other people again. The officers weren't the kindest towards her. They weren't mean, but they were cold. They didn't talk a ton and it was killing her. 

Her entire body itched relentlessly. Whatever soap that they had let her wash up in the bathroom with, it was cheap. It made her hands peel and caused her to itch non-stop. It wouldn't fully wash the grease from her hair. The red roots sat soaked in grease. 

The cop cuffed her wrists in front of her instead of around her back. He grumbled that someone was here to see her. The interior of the entire place was cold. Cold and dreary; a dreamless place without color. Dreams came here to die, she was sure of it. 

Everyone was so strict and the food was lukewarm. It had been nuked in a microwave, but only half. Without proper seasoning, everything was bland. Bland, lukewarm, and nauseating. Every word used to describe the place wasn't nice. 

A hand remained on her shoulder as she walked forward. She was rather rudely shoved in the direction she was supposed to go in. When she started to turn down the wrong hall, the cop slightly shoved her and she shuffled over her two feet. A small huff escaped her nose, she adjusted, and continued to walk. 

When the pair reached a door, the cop turned the knob and began to open the door. "Remember that you're not allowed to touch them. If you disobey the rules and attempt to harm them, you won't get another chance to speak to them." 

"Is it a lawyer?" 

"No." 

The cop pushed her through the door and Flora froze when she saw Cynthia sitting at a table. Her dewy eyes looked incredibly sad. Her satin cheeks were a little fuller from eating properly with the guys. She blinked in shock, wondering if she was seeing her correctly. 

"Cynthia?" She spoke in a daze. 

"Flora," Cynthia responded back. Her voice was cold and without remorse, but Flora didn't care about that. Cynthia observed her as she jerked away from the cop and rushed towards the chair to sit down. The cop rolled his eyes, crossed his hands, and stood off to the side of the room. 

A small square card table had been set up to the side of the large conference room. The cop had no plans to leave because Flora was still in police custody, she had no way to leave. Even if Cynthia wanted her to, Flora wasn't allowed. The interrogation was still ongoing and nothing could happen until after Cynthia and Seungmin's witness statements. Now that everything was set in stone, Flora's jail experience would continue after this. 

"Did you come to get me out? Please get me out, Cynthia. They don't care about me here." The cuffs on Flora's wrists rattled as she placed them on the table. Cynthia glanced down at them and then slowly looked up. "I want to go home." 

"And so do I." 

"What?" 

Cynthia sucked in a sharp breath and readjusted herself. She hated that she felt guilty for seeing Flora here. Flora didn't give two shits about her from her previous actions. Flora had smashed her phone to pieces while Cynthia cried. She held a knife to her own neck while Cynthia crumbled to her knees begging her to stop because she needed her. 

"I came to ask where you put my money." 

"Your money?" 

"My money. The sage green wallet that had all my money. Since you had all my stuff, you should know where it's at."