Scarlett
I've never been a fan of the police, sheriffs, troopers, or any other person with an obscene amount of power in society. There's something about knowing a person has the ability to do virtually anything they want to you, especially if you're a person of color and only receive a slap on the wrist, that doesn't sit right with me. I've always been afraid of the men that patrolled my neighborhood or walked the halls of my high school touting a taser on their hip. However, once I started seeing the constant and unjustified killings of unarmed black men, my fear grew tenfold. All of which explains why I'm shaking so bad standing outside of the Boston Police Department. On a good day, my anxiety is at about a three with the help of my meds. Right now, we're at about a 25.
"Are you going to go in or..." Asher asks. "Because if not, can we grab some breakfast? I'm starving." He rubs his stomach for added effect.
"We're going in," I mumble. "I just need to psych myself up." Come on bitch you're just going into a police department. Stop being a little bitch. Just do it!
"Scarlett, you're just going in to talk about your car and dorm being broken into. It's not like you're a murder suspect. You have nothing to worry about."
"Ash, you don't get it!" I turn to him, throwing my hands in the air. "I'm black! In America! No, wait, in motherfucking Boston! This city is notoriously racist, and you want me just to be calm, walking into a police department! This is the fucking belly of the beast." I whisper through my teeth as I see an officer walk past us.
"Going in?" Mr. Officer smiles at us, holding open the door.
"Uh uh, y-yes sir." I sputter out - stumbling my way through the door. I don't look suspicious at all.
"What's wrong with you? Stop being weird." Ash grabs onto my forearm as if I'm a child that needs scolding.
"I'm trying not to be falsely accused of murder! Or shot!" I whisper yell at him.
The sound of someone clearing their throat grabs both our attentions. My cheeks heat up as we make awkward eye contact with the receptionist.
"Hi, could I help you two with something?" She looks over her glasses at us.
"Um- yes. I'm here for a meeting with an Officer Gross."
"Second floor. Third door to your left." She smiles, and my stomach flips. I'm definitely walking into the belly of the beast.
Ash drags me up the flight of stairs and basically pushes me through the door labeled Detective Gross before I can even knock. As much as I love Asher, I also want to choke him out sometimes.
I stand there like a deer caught in headlights as I wait for the large dark brown leather chair to turn around. God, I hope this is quick. I honestly don't even care about the break-in anymore. Insurance covered the damages to both my car adn some of my personal belongings. It's been months, and no one has bothered me since, so it was probably just some asshole looking for cheap thrills.
It feels like forever as I wait for the chair to turn around. My knees are weak, and my hands are clammy. I can feel the sweat forming under my armpits.
I think I'm going just to leave. Yeah, that's the move. Karma will handle whoever trashed my stuff. There's no need for me to involve the police.
As I turn to leave, I step on a loose floorboard that alerts the detective to my presence. I cringe as I hear the chair swivel, and I turn back around to face the white man who is "supposed" to help me.
"Oh, you must be Scarlett. I didn't even hear you come in." Detective Gross says with a smile. "Take a seat."
"Are you- Are you Detective gross?" I don't even try to hide the skepticism in my voice. I'm just really confused.
