Those Worse Off Than You

It had been over an hour- what were they doing? Why couldn't we see her? What was taking so long?

Her father and I were trying to be patient- sitting in white plastic chairs in the waiting room; taping our feet in rythms to pass time. Until something happened- the police came marching down the hall.

Her father looked up and stood infront of them. "I want you gone."

"Sir; it is neccesary to interogate the victim."

"No- I want you gone. My little girl has already been through enough- she doesn't need anything else. Leave."

The ywent on arguing some more until the police turned to leave, then stopped and looked at me. It was after nine.

"You little punk- you're coming with us. You're that kid we're supposed to be after."

"No," I protested, grabbing on to the arms of the chair, feeling panicked.

"You're already in enough trouble, you'd best come with us."

"No! I'm staying here; I need to see her. I need to know she's alright."

He reached out and grabbed my arm, but Jayde's father reached out and grabbed his politely, leading him a ways down the hallway. I watched as they talked to eachother, nodding, and shaking their heads. Don't make me leave. The cop took of a cellphone and called someone before he handed Jayde's father a piece of paper to sign; which he signed and gave back to the officer before coming back and sitting next to me.

"What happened," I asked. "Why aren't they dragging me away?"

"You have to go back tomorrow; you're lucky. You can stay with us tonight."