1
SAVANNAH
Spending the day in jail isn’t so bad. In a small town like Westridge, they bring you coffee with extra sugar and turn the TV toward your cell. Not having paperwork in front of me or a million emails to answer is a welcome bonus too. The only downsides so far have been the smelly drunk in the corner and not having anyone to call who is willing to come bail me out.
I’ve been here before. Not on the wrong side of the bars, exactly, but in the misery of another all-time low. Each time I find myself in the throes of it, I ask myself the same question.Is this it? Is this the time that I finally push the limits of my self-destruction so far that there’s no coming back?I always beg and plead with the universe to get me out and give me another chance.
I won’t put myself in this situation again, I swear. I’ve learned my lesson this time, I promise.But the outcome never changes, and I know even without a crystal ball that this will not be the last time I land on the jagged sharp surface of rock bottom.
I wasn’t dumb enough to expect my dad to come to my rescue today. Bad news travels fast, so I’m sure without even speakingto me to get my side of the story, he’s created his own narrative that what happened was completely my fault.
Maybe it was. Maybe I’m the problem.
I’m not sure it matters at this point, though. He hasn’t gone out of his way to help any other time that I’ve gotten myself into some form of trouble regardless of whether or not I was to blame.
Even though he considers me a disappointment, you’d think he’d at least still answer my call. A clear vision of him huffing out a breath and rolling his eyes as the collect call flashes across the screen of his phone plays in my mind. The mental image is enough for shame to heat my cheeks.
Feeling like I’m not worth his time or effort is an inevitable sentiment for me. But even as familiar as it is, it’s still hard to stomach.
According to the black framed digital clock above the door on the other side of the room, I’ve been stuck in here going on seven hours. My feet are beginning to throb in my heels because I’m too scared to take them off and let my bare feet touch the cold concrete floor. It doesn’tlooktoo dirty, but I can’t even begin to imagine the amount of invisible germs swimming around on it. Shifting my full weight from one foot to the other every so often will have to do for now.
I could sit, but that would mean cozying up with the unfortunately smelly drunk sharing the cell with me.
I set my coffee down on the scratch-covered bench along the wall inside the holding cell and then turn to lean my back against the bars keeping me from the outside world. What’s next? Is the ceiling going to cave in on me? With my string of luck lately, adding in a broken leg from falling debris would fail to surprise me.
Tilting my head back, I stare up at the textured brown edges of the water-stained ceiling tiles. I squint, pretendingthey’re clouds instead. The urge to surrender to my impending breakdown is creeping in. Since the prospect of someone coming to get me out of here tonight is looking bleak, my adrenaline from the day will crash soon and the tears will start. It happens every time I have a major screw-up, and no one is there to keep me from spiraling.
“I’m sorry your dad didn’t answer,” Justin, the officer on duty, says from the other side of the room. “But I’ll let you make another call if you need to, Savannah.”
I look over my shoulder to see him sitting at his desk in a flimsy office chair. He’s leaning back and pulling his eyebrows together, deep in thought. Justin and I met when I first moved here not long ago. I became quickly acquainted with most of the local law enforcement due to the nature of my job, and he’s been kind and generous toward me from the start. Unlike most of the others. I’m not so defeated that I can’t appreciate his empathy toward my current situation.
“Thank you,” I reply, puffing out a sigh. “I just don’t have anyone else to call.”
Pathetic, I know. But it’s the truth.
My co-workers and I have had a rocky start. I don’t bond quickly or easily with others, and my experience so far with the other people in my office has been no exception. I’m not sure they’d jump at the chance to help the newcomer who’s making them all look bad at the moment.
Then there’s my mom and my brother, both of whom always take my father’s side. They’re too scared of him not to. I don’t see either of them burning a bridge with him just to lend me a hand. God forbid.
No one else comes to mind either, not even an acquaintance that I’ve made in town. My difficulty warming up to new people extends to making new friendships, and being in a new town hasn’t helped that.
I’ve lived in Westridge all of one month and already I’ve managed to throw fuel on the fire that is my bad reputation.
When it comes to strangers, I have a thicker skin. It’s easier to care less how people feel about you when you hardly know them. To date, their opinions haven’t been an issue. But attitude doesn’t do me any favors when I need someone to get me the hell out of this jail cell.
Justin flattens his lips and his eyes soften, so I blow out a breath and look away. I may be embarrassed by my lack of options, but I don’t want him to feel sorry for me.
The television mounted on the wall adjacent to my holding cell plays a 2000s era game show rerun on mute, and I turn to stare at it, resting my chin on my folded arms against the bars.
When minutes go by and I don’t have any names to give Justin to call, I assume he’ll drop it and leave me to rot in here for the time being.
“Want me to get a bail bondsman on the phone then?” he asks. “You don’t want to spend the night here, I’m sure.”
I most definitely do not. No heating pad for my tight lower back, no sound machine, and having to sleep with my clothes on? I shudder at the thought. No, thank you.
“I guess that’s my only choice,” I mumble and shrug. I hate how discouraged I feel right now and the fact that I don’t have the energy to hide it. “The sooner I get out of here, the sooner I can try to fix the mess I’ve gotten myself into.”
I switch my weight to my left foot and wiggle my right ankle above the floor to lessen the soreness. Justin nods and goes silent again.
