Hot Stuff by Virginia Page

Author:Virginia Page [Page, Virginia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Unknown
Published: 2019-03-09T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 21

I’d woken up to a hissing sound. For a moment, I didn’t know where I was or what had happened, everything seeming like a dream. Then the hoarse voice of my new so-called boyfriend cussed as police officers wrestled him to the ground. The windshield in front of me had spider webbed around a shattered spot the size of a grapefruit. I reached up and touched my forehead, stinging when my fingers made contact. A sharp pain in my head throbbed like a bruise. When I pulled my hand away, I noticed my fingers were covered in blood. Hesitant to look into the rear-view mirror, afraid of what I might see, I forced myself to take a look. Small shards of glass had embedded into the top of my forehead just at my hairline. I whimpered, holding both hands over my face, regretting my decision to stay in the car.

I identified the hissing sound. Beers, spraying from punctured cans in the backseat, soaked the rear window, covering the glass with the moisture of suds.

An officer pulled me out, dragging me to the front, throwing me face down on top of the hood of the car, manhandling me like some common criminal.

My tears dropped on the hood, along with slobber, snot, and blood from my mouth, nose, and forehead. I looked up staring at my reflection in the windshield in horror, my nose running, me crying harder than before. I couldn’t breathe because I was so worked up, me dry-heaving. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw one of the officers dragging my boyfriend kicking and screaming into the back of the police car.

“The perpetrator was in possession of an illegal firearm,” the police officer said.

Then I couldn’t believe my ears when the cop went on to describe the perpetrator. He said, “She.”

She? I was shocked. I realized that the cops thought the gun was mine, and they also thought I’d stolen the car. My so-called new boyfriend said he’d hitched a ride with me, and I’d forced him to do drugs, at gunpoint, and made him rob the convenient store. I realized that I’d reached the point of no return. I told the officer I didn’t do anything, but they weren’t sympathetic at all. Apparently, everyone must tell them that they are innocent, because the police officers didn’t give me any sympathy, and they acted as if they had heard it all before. I’d become a victim of circumstance, and they were treating me as if I were the villain, the mastermind of the crime. Hurting deep down inside, I knew it’d be impossible to convince them of my innocence.

“Where is the firearm?” one of the police officers asked.

The other officer pulled his gun out carefully, approaching the car, inspecting the interior.

Then it occurred to me. My boyfriend had shoved the gun under the car seat.

“I found something,” the officer said.

He walked up next to me holding a small baggy, cutting it open with a pocket-knife. When he pulled out the blade it was covered in a white, powdery substance.

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