POP! POP

POP- POP

POP POP!

POP POP…

“What the-“

“GUN DOWN!! DOWN NOW!!”

“But I didn’t… where am I?”

“HANDS UP, DOWN ON YOUR KNEES!”

There’s blood everywhere, clotted down my clothes. I had the strangest dream that I hurt someone. That I was on top of a young girl, my hand raised as I repeatedly beat her with the butt of my handgun. I shake as I fall to my knees and the police swarm in. At least twenty of them, guns raised.

A little ways off, fire engines are parked beside a flaming car that’s wrapped around an old oak. I shake my head, spinning to look at one of the officers. “What happened? What happened?” As if to answer my question, a blob of blood falls on the female officers suit. She keeps quiet in binding my hands and getting me to my feet, one hand on her holster, the other on my pale wrists, holding me in place.

“You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to an attorney. Anything you say now can and will be held against you in court,” a chubby officer with a greasy bald head and a Doritos stain on his blue suit says.

“Can someone tell me what happened?”

“What happened is you killed a girl.”

“I didn’t do it! I would never kill anyone!”

“Tell it to the judge, you bastard.”

I’m tossed into the back of the cop car, the blue and red lights still flashing. I watch the officers talk outside occasionally glancing or throwing their thumbs my way. The woman officer glares at me from outside, one hand still on her gun. I busy myself by picking sticky blood clots from my clothes and hair.

“Alright,” the officer gets in the drivers seat and turns the key. The patrol car shifts into gear. “Let’s get this show on the road!”