"Lauren, I would like you to tell me exactly what happened, starting from when you got home, okay?" the detective said. I nodded and began telling how Natalie was in the kitchen and my father was arguing with me. The cop's eyes kept squinting and their heads nodding at certain points of my story.

"He got mad for me being late and missing school. I got mad at him for being a hypocrite. He has had some troubles lately, and I didn't like the fact that I couldn't make one mistake and he could make a million..." I continued, my eyes slightly watering and my voice slightly cracking telling them the story of yesterday's events, although I had gone over it so many times in my head and practiced it until perfection.

"And Natalie, how do you remember it?" the detective with a cold face asked.

"I was doing my homework in the kitchen, and my dad was getting worried about how when he called one of her friends, she had told him that she had missed the last few periods after lunch and had missed dance practice, so he didn't know where she was and she wasn't answering her phone. When she did come home, she looked tired. My dad immediately started yelling at her for not answering her phone, not telling where he had been, and skipping school. She yelled back about when he came home drunk and had crashed my mom's car while drunk. He got really mad and grabbed her wrist to I think take her outside, and I ran upstairs, but watched anyway. He kept dragging her and she kept struggling and fighting against him, so he threw her down and picked her up, and then threw her down again. Then he hit her across the face, and then Dylan came in and punched my dad and took Lauren and I to his house and we've been here since." she finished, and they wrote down some notes in their little notepad.

We were in the O'brien's living room, talking to Dark Face and someone I honestly thought was Ichabod Crane, or maybe a clone.

Pig Face was asking us the questions and Ichabod was writing down the answers.

"Where is our father?" I asked after a long silence. Ichabod looked straight at me.

"He is in custody."

"Can we see him-" I said, but Natalie cleared her throat. "Can I see him?" I correct, wishing Natalie wanted to see him too. The two detectives looked at each other, like they were having a telepathic conversation.

"Would you like to follow us to the station, he is waiting there." Dark Face said, and Ichabod excused himself and walked into the other room with his phone in his hand. I craned my neck to see what he was doing, and he was leaning against the kitchen counter, his phone to his ear and he looked unhappy.

Soon Ichabod came back and his normal, this-is-a-sad-conversation face had changed into an I-could-kill-someone-right-now face.

"If you would like to see your father, we can give you a ride to the station, granite you would have to sit in the back." he said, and I looked at Natalie.

"Come with me?" I asked her, and she shook her head."Nat, please. You don't need to see him, but I need you to be there with me when I go in." I told her, and she closed her eyes and shook her head.

"Fine, I'll go. But I won't see him. I don't want to see him, and I can't even believe you do." she finished, and it stung.

"As long as you're going with me, I'll be fine." I murmur, almost too quiet to hear.


The drive to the police station was quiet and awkward, no one saying a word. When we parked and the detectives had to let us out, no inside handles for the criminals. I thought about all of the people who had sat in the seat I had. Had a murderer sat there, a serial killer? Maybe a just a lowlife thief who stole jewelry or a purse. What if this was the squad car that had taken my father from our house?

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