Chapter 38: Holding Cell
I was in Star City - and that was only thing I could process in my mind as I walked aimlessly downtown to the only police station that I knew of. People were staring, and it wasn't just because my face had been all over the news or the fact that I had been missing along with the red-head "millionaire playboy" for the past week or so, it was also because I was wearing a dress. The dress. The dress I wore to Dinah and Oliver's wedding. A week ago.
I knew that I was out of shape about an hour into my walk around the city. Panting, I grasped onto a window ledge close to a bakery. I slipped off my heels and let my feet scrape across the unusually hot concrete. Evidently my blood loss was much more frightening than I had first imagined.
The police station was closer than I had thought, taking me only forty extra minutes to get there instead of the whole two hours I was imagining at the slow rate I was going. Walking into the building, I came across an elderly woman sitting at the only visible desk. I walked up to her and sighed.
"Can I help you?" She asked not taking her eyes off the computer screen in front of her and her hands not moving or stopping from her aggressive typing.
"Uh, yeah. I'm here to turn myself in..." My statement drew her eyes away from the screen. Her expression changed once she recognized me.
"Goddamn. If it isn't Miss Sarah Lawson back from the dead, or shall I say hiding. Are you going to run out the door and hide again or are you actually going to own up to what you did?" She smirked with her purple-stained lips. I sighed.
"If I was truly guilty, I sure as hell wouldn't have walked into this building without a fire arm, let alone walked into it."
"If you were truly guilty..." She laughed, "You have one hell of a sense of humor, I'll give you that, but honey, you won't make it past the first trial without everyone pouncing on your ass. And I don't mean for fun either."
"Maybe I will, maybe I won't. But one things for sure, you should've never come between me and the people who actually killed that poor, innocent man."
She huffed and laughed at my inquiry. "Darling, if we weren't so far from Gotham, I'd be locking you up in the Arkham Asylum right now with a smile on my face and watching that hot security guard stick that needle in your arm."
"Yeah, and if we weren't so far from Central City, I'd be telling your husband about every damn affair you and that security guard, a.k.a Brian Peterson, have had over the last ten years."
"How did you-"
"I do my homework. You should try it sometime, it really helps when you're accusing the wrong person of a murder that no one has actually seen."
"How?"
"Why don't you just order your people to arrest me already? I mean, what's the point of me actually coming into this hellish, nineteen-eighties styled building when the only bitch at the front desk won't actually do what I ask?"
"Oh, don't worry. They're already here." She smiled at me as I felt a pistol's barrel touch my skull. I sighed and put my hands up. This was what I had come for: to be arrested and pay for my sins, but the simple deed, actually turning myself in, did nothing in my favor. Fear glazed everyone's eyes and I was handled in a way so I felt not even human. The cuffs were suffocating my hands and my knees were scrapped as I fell a few times when being pushed towards the holding cell. Then I realized what was going on. They weren't mad at me. The people weren't mad at me. They were scared of me.