Even if I did start talking we wouldn’t have finished.  Another officer slightly older than Arthur followed him in.  They made there way over to us and told us they wanted to talk.

“Alright guys were ready for you.”  Officer… Inouye -as it says on his metal tag- spoke first.  After finishing his sentence he moved over to us so he could escort us to Officer Carlin’s office.  

“Ashley!  I never wrapped your cut yet!”  Spencer shouted in realization.  I looked at my swollen red hand as did the cops in front of us.

“Eh no matter.  You going need stitches.”  Officer Inouye said in his fluent pidgin english.  Officer Carlin as well as everyone else came up and took a glance at the angry cuts.  I received a murmur of agreements.  

Boy, some one sowing up my skin sounded real pleasant!  Honestly, the dull disgusted look on my face said it all.

“Paula can do it.”  Arthur put in.  I’m not sure if thats better.  I didn’t like hospitals but last I recall Paula wasn’t my biggest fan.  What if she sowed my fingers together!

I didn’t have time to dwell on the unlikely possibilities.  We were all led into officer Carlin’s office.  It was a pretty good size.  All of us were able to fit comfortably.  The large office was fully decorated and you could tell he had it for a long time now.  There were the usual filing cabinets and maps and all that other cop stuff.  But he also personalized the place.  Pictures of his family and friends hung all over the place.  On walls, on shelves, on desks.  There was even a picture of Kyla and I together.  

For some reason that one broke my heart a bit. 

I turned up to look into Officer Carlin’s cold eyes as he watched me stand close to Spencer.  Our fingertips not exactly connected but hanging next to each other, invisibly intertwined.  

I felt like a preschooler on recess detention.  We were all lined up against the wall while Arthur paced back and forth before finally taking a seat on his desk.  Officer Inouye stood on one side of the room while another younger officer stood opposite to him.  Ok, so now I don’t feel like a preschooler I feel like I’m in a gang.  A sad pathetic gang.