Burn
5
Nostalgia
The police station is crowded with criminals and officers. I've never seen so many blue-suited men, and, while most of them don't look anything like him, I'm reminded of Royce with every dark-eyed glance that is shot my way, every strong-bodied figure, every dark-haired man that's rangy and tall.
I swallow hard, gritty and hot.
Aunt Lauren rubs my back, but I shy away from the contact, mindful of Derek standing next to me, emanating an air of quiet, dark anger.
An officer notices us. "May I help you?" he asks lightly, looking at first my aunt and then at Derek, completely bypassing me.
A wave of anxiety has me clutching the letter all the more tightly against my chest, scanning the room, flinching at the loud screams of struggling arrested persons and the jeering calls of the people already in the holding cells to the cops, ranging from degrading insults towards their families to the threat of peeing on themselves, which is tame considering the other calls made to the officers.
"We're here to report an unsettling letter my niece received from her ex-boyfriend. His name is Royce Banks, and this isn't exactly our first time coming to the station, at least where we're originally from," my aunt says tightly and, when I peek up at her, her face is drawn and pinched with concern and anger, her eyebrows slanted over her wide-set eyes.
The officer turns to me. "Let's see what we can do, alright? It'll be okay." He smiles, his top lip disappearing under the thick fringe of hair of his mustache, and I remember the last time someone told me, in reference to Royce, that it would be okay.
When he asks for the letter, I seize up and clutch it harder against my chest, like I can make my body absorb it so this man can't read Royce's words, read about me opening my legs for him like some slut, read his unsettling words. My muscles hurt with amount of tension in them, my neck burning slightly as I duck my head down, staring at my untied shoelaces.
"Hey, it's okay," Derek rumbles low.
I edge away from him. "I-I—" I try to say, the words a thick mess on my tongue, and painful heat rushes to my cheeks in splotchy patches. When I start to perspire nervously, the man seems to take pity on me.
"Why don't we get you something to drink?" he suggests.
My aunt readily agrees, but Derek hesitates, shifting close enough that his hip bumps my butt. His heat is closing in on me, making me relax a little.
"Okay," I agree tentatively, still clutching the paper to my chest but more loosely now.
"Oh, my name is Officer Malloy, but, between you and me, you can call me Liam." He smiles brightly, his teeth flashing against the red of his sunburnt face, and leads us down a long, concrete hallway.
Most of the doors lining this hallway are open, so I peer inside casually when he's not looking. They all seem to be conference rooms, like you see in TV.
"We'd be down here, but, first, I'd have to file a report and read the letter," Officer Mall—Liam informs us from his spot beside another long hallway, this one a bit colder and less full of rooms. "Bathrooms are also this way."
Aunt Lauren sighs with relief.
We reach a large room with a tiny, sputtering coffee machine on the counter, a couple of officers sitting in the tiny chairs around a big, round table that sits in the corner, and I'm swallowing hard again against the rise of anxious bile burning my throat.
Aunt Lauren excuses herself to the restrooms.
Liam opens a fridge squeeze into the space between the door frame and the beginning of the counter and asks, his head in the fridge, "What would you like? There's some coffee drinks, water, energy drinks, juice."
I ask for a coffee drink.
Derek wants an energy drink. His choice doesn't surprise me—he looks drawn and tired, the lines of his face etched deeply into his skin, his eyes lidded with exhaustion.
"There's a couch next door," Liam mentions softly, but Derek waves him off.
"Derek, you look like shit," I tell my friend stiffly.
His lip curls as he glares down at me.
"No, go sleep. I'll be fine." I smile as encouragingly as I can considering the circumstances.
A muscle in his jaw shifts as he narrows his eyes at me and then turns to the officer.
"Don't worry. I don't bite." Liam takes a seat, sitting in the chair backwards.
Derek debates for a minute before stepping outside and I wait until I'm sure he's gone to sit down cautiously, perched on the edge of the seat.
"He seems like a good guy. A bit hard-headed. Reminds me of myself in my teenage years," Liam laughs.
I chew my cheek. "He is. Better than...him, at least."
He doesn't reply, just sits back and spins the cap of his lemonade bottle. "If you're okay with it, I'd like to read the letter. Of course, it doesn't have to be now."
Perspiration beads my temples and runs down my back. A heartbeat passes before I manage to relinquish the papers to him.
"Thank you." He doesn't say a word as he reads, his face tight during certain parts, a bit green in others. Once he's done, he exhales long and slow.
"That's, uh, certainly—" At a loss for words, he scratches his neck awkwardly.
I'm chewing my lip. "Disturbing?" I suggest.
He nods. "Not the worst one I've read. I can get into contact with your old police station and see what I can do," he says with a smile that drops instantly when a woman storms into the break room.
At first, I think it's just another officer but when I notice Liam's tense shoulders, I turn.
She's beautiful, all sharp cheekbones and lush dark hair with a slight curl, her mouth twisted in a frown. "So this is the little Saunders girl, huh?" While she's beautiful, the words out of her mouth ruin my image of her. She might is well be a gargoyle.
"Miss Enright," Liam says, passing me the letter.
"How's my daughter doing?" she asks me instead of introducing herself like a normal, polite human being.
I'm confused. "I-I do-on't th-thin—" I start to say, smoothing the pages of the letter on the table, letting my finger trail across a pattern of wrinkles.
Miss Enright sighs exasperatedly. "Tori. Jesus Christ, for a girl from two very smart parents, not much else to them really, you're quite dumb, aren't you? And a speech impediment to boot."
I swallow hard. "I ca-can't help i-if I-I stu-tu-u-utter," I blurt sharply, letting my anger color my tone.
Her face starts to turn the same shade of red as her earrings.
"Diane." Derek's massive figure blocks out the doorway, his eyes focused on Tori's mom, or at least who I assume safely is her mom.
"Who—oh. oh. My, my, you've grown, Derek," Miss Enright tuts, tucking a wayward piece of hair out of her face. "I've got to go, though. Tell Tori to behave. She always was a trouble child."
Derek snarls menacingly but she waves him off and turns to me. "What's this, hm?" She reaches down and I scoot backward, stumbling over my shoes in my haste to get away from her. The letter burns my skin as I gasp for breath, shaking.
Miss Enright looks at me, at Liam, and then laughs softly. "A love letter, Chloe?" she guesses, her dark eyes piercing me.
"N-no," I decline, shaking my head.
"Miss Enright—" Liam starts, his face slowly turning redder and redder. His muscles flex.
"I'm going! Christ, you're all quite...unsettled." She shoots Liam a dark look before she turns and walks away, bumping Derek purposefully on the way out.
"We don't say a word about her to Tori," Derek tells me flatly.
I don't argue.
The click of heels draws my attention away from the grain of the wood. Aunt Lauren stands in the doorway, absently smoothing down her hair, and then notices all our eyes on her.
"What?" she asks. "What did I miss?"