Page 101 of Sling’s Awakening

I don’t have anything to rinse my mouth out and I doubt he’s going to give me anything, so I’m not going to bother asking.

“You have the right to remain silent…” The officer’s voice fades away into the background as I disassociate while being put into the back of a cop car.

This all feels like a sick dream.

Tears are running down my cheeks.

I want Sling.

I just want Sling.

The room they put me in is plain and cold, making me feel even more miserable. There’s a metal table and two chairs. One wall is full of mirrors, which I’m assuming has someone behind it watching me.

I know these rooms are meant to make you snap and confess your deepest secrets, but right now all I want to do is die.

I’ve lost track of how long I’ve been in here, but it feels like forever. No one has come in to check on me. I haven’t even been offered water to wash the taste of vomit out of my mouth.

The only positive right now is that my hands are handcuffed in front of me and not behind me anymore.

I wonder if anyone even knows I’m here. It’s an eerie feeling knowing people are probably worried sick about you and you have no way of telling them what’s going on and that you’re okay.

The girls are probably freaking out. I know Russ doesn’t give a shit, but he will when he realizes he actually has to work and I’m not there to do everything for him.

And Sling.

If he shows up at the club again tonight and realizes I’m not there, he’s going to lose his fucking mind.

The door handle rattles, echoing throughout the silent room, making me look up as the heavy metal door finally opens. A detective in a gray suit strolls in, closing the door behind him. He’s tall and lean. The harsh lines etched in his face tell me he’s seen things in his life, going against the cleaned-up look he’s portraying right now.

He slaps the manila folder down on the table before pulling out the other metal chair and taking a seat.

“Ms. Davis,” he says as he settles in and leans back, crossing his ankle over his thigh.

I don’t trust myself to open my mouth without more vomit coming up, so all I can do is muster up a tight smile.

“Do you know what you’re in here for?” he pushes forward, unfazed.

I nod. “Yeah.” My voice sounds scratchy. Raising my fist to my mouth, I cough, trying to clear it. “I was told by them when I was arrested.”

He nods but says nothing as he flips open the file. “How about we start with you telling me where you have been getting the cocaine from?”

My eyes widen as I choke.

Cocaine?

That’s what they think I’ve been buying and selling?

That fucking motherfucker.

I should have known Russ’s shady ass would be involved. It has his name all over it.

“I know you’re not going to believe me when I tell you this, but I don’t know anything about the cocaine you’re talking about,” I say as I pick at my cuticle around my nail until it bleeds, using my thumb to smear the blood around on my finger.

I don’t know how much more stress I can take. I feel like I’m about to keel over at any second. The air in this room is stale, making me lightheaded.

The detective inclines his head. “That’s going to be a hard sell when your fingerprints were all over the liquor bottles we confiscated.”

“My fingerprints were all over them because I’m the one who does inventory every single night.”