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C H A P T E R T W O
W E S T
The ride to the police station was quiet, mostly because I was planning on ways I could get back at the bitch who put me here. I mean, I wasn't scared of going to prison; I knew eventually I would have gotten caught, it was just the fact that Stephanie was a fucking nark.
The cop had some shitty country music on in the car, and honestly that made me even more mad. Who the fuck listened to country music? If my hands weren't handcuffed, I would've turned off the music by myself.
The only good thing about getting to the police station was that I didn't need to hear that shitty song anymore.
We finally pulled up to the police station, and the officer grabbed me from my right arm and yanked me out of the car, obviously not caring that he was being rough with me.
"Watch your fucking grip," I sneered to the officer. Any normal person who was in the possession of the police would normally just obey and shut up, since anything I say can and will be used against me, but at this point; I didn't really care. I knew I was going to get out of it, anyways.
"Watch your tone, sweetheart." The officer replied hastily. I groaned. I hated the term sweetheart; I definitely wasn't sweet.
"Its West, not sweetheart." I snapped. The police officer just chuckled as he brought me through the main doors of the station. He brought me to the front desk in which a middle aged lady just looked up from what I assumed was a ton of paperwork.
"Ive got a drug dealer. She'll need to get processed and detained." The lady just chuckled, fixing her glasses.
"I'll call Robbie." She dialled a number on her desk phone, and said something into the receiver.
"Are you going to throw me into a cell or do I just wait here till the next one becomes available?" I sneered. The lady at the desk just looked at me, then looked at the officer. "Because I don't have all day."
"You've got yourself a feisty one," She said, going back to her paperwork. A man, no older than twenty-five walked up to us with handcuffs; as if I hadn't been handcuffed already. He looked at the officer, who just nodded. The man walked behind me and pushed me to walk forward.
"I don't need your fucking guidance," I said, shaking his hand off my back. The man just laughed and brought me into a room, ignoring my statement. He motioned me to walk to a station where they took my fingerprint. They made me strip down and change into a orange jumpsuit; the typical prison attire. They allowed me to keep my septum piercing, mainly because I said that if they took it off I'll set the whole building on fire. Not literally, i wouldn't actually set the whole building on fire, but I figured they thought a septum piercing couldn't do much harm to anyone. They did make me take off my necklace and earrings, and they took my cell phones, those bastards. I expected to get all that shit back, or they wouldn't know what hit them.
