Romy stepped through the bathroom and felt along the wall for the light switch. She flicked it and bathed the room in light.
Dave’s face was almost blue. He was dead. Romy called out to him softly, to see if he would stir as his wife had. But Dave was most certainly dead. Romy was no doctor, but she guessed that the big man had had a heart attack or something.
Romy shook her head sadly. Another cramp was building up in her gut as she looked at the dead man. Her thoughts drifted from Dave to Mary-Sue.
Had she just been distraught with Dave’s death? Was that why she attacked? Oh shit! am I a murderer? Romy started second guessing everything that had happened. Then, with panic rising, she noticed the red and blue lights shining in.
Romy didn’t know what to do. She ran out of the bedroom to the living room. She threw open the front door and stepped out towards the police car that was parked in front of the house. She didn’t think about the gun still in her hand.
Then there was a bright light behind her eyes, followed by pain all over her body. The world slowed down. She had no control of her limbs as she fell over. Waves of energy passed through her until she could no longer stand it and slipped into darkness.
ALL WAS QUIET. ROMY opened her eyes and saw white. A white ceiling. She turned her head slightly, and pain lanced through her head and down her neck. The pain faded and her vision returned. More white. White walls, this time. And metal bars, painted white.
Wait a sec!
Romy shifted her body. There was pain. Everywhere. She slowed her movements down, and individual pains started to make themselves known. Her hip hurt, and her elbow. Romy felt her hip. It felt bruised. She lifted her elbow. It was scraped, but it didn’t look bad.
Ever so slowly, Romy shifted her body to sit up on the cot she was lying on. She swung her legs, so her feet touched the ground. She noticed that one of her shoes had been removed. It lay in the far corner of the cell.
Yes. A cell. I’m in jail.
Slowly, other pains started making themselves known. Her wrist was sore, for one. It also felt like she had scratched the side of her face and her ear. ... And her breasts were sore?
Romy was confused. She stole a glance down her tank top but couldn’t really see anything. She felt her breasts. Yes, they were definitely sore. Bruised. Like somebody had squeezed them too hard!
Romy started putting the picture together. She looked down and noticed that the button and zipper of her pants were undone.
Oh no ... Oh no!
But thankfully, she didn’t feel sore down there.
Somebody must have tried to take her pants off – but failed or was interrupted.
Oh my god I almost got raped... Romy started to tear up. But then stopped herself. Get yourself together, Romy Steward. Do not show them weakness.
She steeled herself. Romy stood up and buttoned and zipped up her pants. She walked to the corner of the cell and grabbed her sneaker. She put it on, walked up to the cell door and tried it.
Locked. Of course. Fuck. She rattled the cell.
“You! Son of a Bitch! Open this Fucking door! I’ll fucking kill you!” She got so angry that she was spitting her words.
But there was nobody to hear her. She screamed out her frustration and hit the bars.
“FUCK! OW!” She cradled her injured wrist and marched in small circles, overcome by the pain for a few seconds. The pain was good. It helped her focus. She sat down on the cot once the pain had subsided enough. She looked at her surroundings again.
She was definitely alone, in the sheriff’s office.
She knew the sheriff. Anderson. White-haired pudgy guy. He was friendly enough, and had a large family including grandkids.
He had two deputies. Ruiz. Seemed like a stand-up guy. Married, with kids. Always polite and professional.
Then there was Parson. Younger guy. He’d hit on her once back in her first year in Willemtown.
Could be him... Control your anger, Romy. She felt herself getting mad again but forced it down.
Nothing happened for the next ten minutes, and nothing happened for the next hour. Romy had just started to doze off when she heard a noise. Somebody was coming. She heard a car pull in and stop, then a car door open and slam shut. She got up off her cot.
Somebody stepped into the building. Romy backed up a step. The footsteps rapidly approached. Romy found that she had backed up to the far wall of the cell.
A police officer stepped in front of the jail cell. Deputy Ralf Parson stood at the cell door and looked at Romy. She tensed up.
But then she noticed something she did not expect to see in Ralph’s face. Concern.
“Romy. Are you ok? Here, let me get this cell open.” He continued before she could speak. He lifted the key in his hand.
“Hold on!” Romy yelled. Ralph froze, the key inches from the lock. He looked up and met Romy’s eyes.
“You know.” Ralph’s statement was filled with shame.
“You’re damn right I know!”
“It wasn’t me, Romy. Please. Believe me.” The statement was met with stony silence.
“I caught Bob. And Alex. They were ...” He shook his head. “I stopped them.”
Ralph suddenly took two steps backwards, so his back was against the wall. He slid down the wall, until he landed with a thud. His legs splayed out in front of him.
“I made it back to the office. They must have not been expecting me. I heard the noises back here so came to investigate. They were...” He looked up at Romy with embarrassment. “They were starting to
