I followed the police into their car, and I was driven in a separate car from the framer girl. My car suddenly stopped at some type of animal center.

  There they removed the snake from my bag, which was then taken by one of the officers.

  We then continued the rest of the way to the police station.

  I was taken to a cell, fortunately I was alone and not mixed with some riff-raff.

  A couple of hours later I was taken to an interrogation room. One sided glass likely meant I was being watched from outside. The camera in the corner of the room meant the same.

  One of the two officers who arrested me proceeded to ask questions.

  “Why did you sexually assault the girl?” He asked blatantly.

  “I refuse to answer questions without my lawyer present.” Was my only response. However they continued to ask incriminating questions.

  I was returned to my cell promptly after their interrogation failed. They refused my request for a phone call, even though I had no one to call.

  The cell was gray brick on three sides and iron bars on the last. In one corner a bed, if you could even call it that. In another corner a small toilet with a roll of toilet paper.

  The rest of the day passed by without anything happening. They didn’t even give me food.

  My mind soon began to wander past their illegal actions.

  Many characters from pieces of fiction had tried to escape from jail before. Though this was just a lockup and not jail, it was still interesting to think about the methods.

  However none really held up, even if you did get out of the cell you would still have to get out of the police station.

  When it was nearly night time, still without food, I thought about the entire situation.

  How would I get myself out of this one?

  Would revealing that Johnny paid the girl to frame me result in any consequences?

  Would those consequences be enough? I was at least able to answer that one, no it would not be. But what other crimes has he committed? My power doesn't work on him, so the only crimes I knew of were the ones he committed against me.

  The night passed slowly.

  In the morning I was given water, but still no food.

  I was called again to the interrogation room. I was once again asked incriminating questions. All the questions they asked were predicated on the fact that I committed the crime.

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  I once again refused to answer, and my attempts at a lawyer, public attorney, or even a phone call were denied.

  I was sent back to the gray cell. I soon found out that there wasn’t anybody in the cells around me. There were a couple at the far end of the cell block, but impossible to reach without shouting.

  Finally when the sun had already gone I was given food. However the food consisted of three slices of bread, water, and a peeled orange.

  I already knew that what these people were doing was not only wrong but illegal. And they had done it because one person accused me of rape. The only evidence was one person's testimony.

  I know that it would be wrong to ignore her testimony, but it was even worse to assume I had committed the crime and treat me like this because of it.

  The next few days passed the same, water in the morning, harassment in the interrogation room, and a pitiful meal mixed in once, sometimes twice a day.

  It was no surprise that I felt myself coming down with a cold on Friday.

  My request for medication was refused, as well as any other request such as an attempt at bail, or knowing when my court day was.

  The weekend passed quickly and soon the walls felt closer than they really were. A tightening feeling made it hard to breathe unless you closed your eyes. The interrogation room felt colder than even my house.

  I could feel myself grow stiffer, but it was hard to tell overall because there was no mirror. I could only think that I was becoming more unforgiving.

  It was in the morning on Monday, almost a whole week had passed since my initial imprisonment. When finally something happened.

  Walking by my cell was a tall man. His head suddenly jerked back as I caught his attention. This was somebody I had met before. After the initial event with Kurt he was one of the two police officers who interrogated me then. At the time he striked me as the more reserved type, and perhaps more gentle.

  “It was Azure right?” He asked me suddenly, as he was now paying attention to me. I only nodded, all the politeness was gone from my bones.

  “That’s right, I remember it because it was such a unique name. But… What are you doing here? Did you get arrested?” He asked, but I could somehow tell that he was being sincere.

  I nodded again.

  “I know you weren’t in such good condition the last time we met, but why do you look so beat up now? And smelly?” He asked innocently. My eye’s bore into him, was it not the fault of the police.

  “Why do you ask? Would you even do something about it?” I replied bitterly.

  “Of course I would.” He replied without hesitation.

  “Liar.” I replied coldly.

  “I won’t lie to you, tell me what is going on.” He responded.

  “Why don’t you find out for yourself.” I replied. Telling him couldn’t make it worse, there is even a sliver of a chance that he might be able to help.

  He kept trying to talk to me but I ignored him. I laid back down on the bed and awaited my next ‘interrogation’.

  Recently the interrogation had been getting worse. With yelling, mocking, any and all kinds of mental insults and threats.

  I did not give in, I stayed silent, so my usual requests were ignored.

  My poor dinner today included three slices of damp bread, water, and half a peeled orange. They were starting to lose their temper.

  Sometimes something weird happens when I get sick. When I try to sleep while sick, past memories fill my head and make it impossible to rest. Reliving the past was overall abysmal. Through the cringe-worthy, sad, dark memories there were few that brought any sense of joy or peace.

  One past night in particular kept on being played in my head. The night I fell off a boat, or more like was pushed off a boat. It played in my head like a movie on repeat, becoming more clear each time, and more traumatizing.