I am being booked at the police station. I watch as the officer presses my thumb onto the glass of the digital scanner. I feel like this is unreal as they take my fingerprints.
I am not panicking, neither am I crying. I just feel like this whole situation is a hallucination. I knew one day that mother and daughter pair would ruin my life, but I didn't think it would be like this—arrested like a common criminal while she plays the victim in a hospital bed.
I hear the officer tell me to turn. I turn, and the flash of the camera is bright and blinding. I blink, spots dancing in my vision. I hold the placard bearing numbers up to my chest, my mind in a daze.
"Turn," the officer barks.
I turn to face the opposite side, and another flash almost blinds me.
"Done, step aside."
I do as told. They grab my wrists, and my hands are put in handcuffs again.
I am led to the holding cell down a long, echoing corridor. The officer unlocks the gate, shoves me in, and clangs it shut.
