I have no idea how long I'm at the police station.
I don't know how many questions I'm asked.
I just know that if they let me out, I have no where to go. I have no family in this city. In fact, even if I did, they wouldn't want me to be in their home. My mom really did a great job at making sure we severed ties with anyone who wasn't going to support her addictions.
So that just meant I was officially alone and it was stifling. I felt like I couldn't breathe with this sick realization sticking onto me. I had no one. I didn't even have any friends I could rely on. They were all in college or had jobs or kids and I just didn't fit into their lives.
In fact, for the few hours I've probably been here, no one has come by to see if they can bring me to their place.
I'm just stuck sitting in the hallway as one of the police men try to comfort me. He settles a tentative hand on my shoulder, rubbing it. If he was trying to do anything else I didn't notice. I didn't care. I could be killed myself tonight after all of this but I had so much to live for.
I remembered, fondly through the haze, that I had to go to my internship at Veidt Towers at some point. I think that was what I was trying to do before I witnessed my mother's killer running from our apartment. I think... I think I was going home to grab a stack of papers I left in my room.
After a few moments I find myself being asked more questions - this time from a Doctor. I can't seem to hear him but I'm answering, stuttering grossly. I try to tell him I'm going to be homeless now. The lease is going to be up on the apartment. I don't have any friends. I only have an internship right now. I'm not making money like my mother was.
He simply tsks, telling me that I'm in shock. He's sure I have friends. Can I remember any of their names? What doesn't get about having no friends? It means I'm alone.
He repeats that word a few times to the main person working my case. I'll need medical attention. He'll pay for the cost. Or something. I don't know. I just hope this doesn't rear it's ugly head at me. I hope he doesn't do anything to me while I give him my undying appreciaton at being helped for once in my self.
Several hours later I feel myself just walk right out of the station. I'm so exhausted but I need to go home. I need my clothes. Maybe they kept the doors open. I can't find my key as I trudge down the street.
Maybe all of this is a dream. Maybe I'm just high on something that bastard my mom was seeing put in my crappy tea that I enjoy. Maybe... Maybe I'm just going insane but I'm not heading in the direction of my home.
That slip of paper is in my hand suddenly. The paper that Rorschach gave me. It has an address on it that tells me it's exactly four streets away.
I decide it's the best choice. Maybe it's where Rorschach lives. Maybe he doesn't hate women like everyone says. Maybe, just maybe, he's my foul smelling knight in rusted armor.