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The stupidest thing for me to be doing is zooming through downtown to a police station and not knowing where our local police station was. I don't look for trouble, the trouble looks for me. You'll never see me breathe the same air as the department of law, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
I strapped Luna in the back with Michael and Molly right beside me in the passenger's seat. I figured now that she was asleep, and hopefully unconscious till I send her off, she'll throw less of a fuss and maybe I'll never see her again and live life the way it's meant for me. The drive was anything but quiet. Michael refused to turn down the music after repeatedly reminding him that Luna was still asleep, while Molly wouldn't let me see the end of it by taking Luna to the police.
Now than ever, I was tempted to drive this car off the side of the road.
"You're fucking stupid, you know that?" She scoffed, her piercing gaze burning holes in my side.
"I've been told. Now, can you shut up?" I retorted, pressing down roughly onto the breaks. The car jolted forward, causing our bodies to surge forward on impact. Molly grabbed onto the dashboard, while I gripped the wheel tightly.
"DUDE! THIS AIN'T FAST AND FURIOUS!" Michael yelped, wrapping his arms around Luna to secure her as the car swerved to the right. The sound of honks blared from behind us, a line of cars anxiously waiting for me to make a move. Honestly, I could care less. The streets are meant to be roamed anyway. I gained control and maneuvered right into the right lane, where gradually the police station was growing closer.
Driving up to an open parking spot, the car came to halt just in front of the entrance. Men in uniforms walked up to the stairs that lead towards the doors of the station. A line of cop cars parked in their own sections, the city's name imprinted just below the barred windows. It's red and blue lights sent chills down my spine, the colors giving me an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach.
"Just being here feels wrong," Michael muttered, his arms loosely wrapped around the small child in the back. He placed his chin on top of her head and looked around uneasily. He seemed so comfortable with her, it almost made me feel bad for even thinking of sending her off unannounced.
She's a kid. A kid you all took without anyone's consent. Hell, she's not your child. This is wrong.
I felt torn. I shouldn't feel torn. This should be the most logical way to make sure she's taken care of. There shouldn't be a single doubt in my mind about sending her off into the hands of the police. So why was it such a difficulty to get out of the car?
"You're not seriously taking her inside, are you?"
It was stupid of me to be conflicted about this. I'm being selfish. What type of person would I be if I didn't hand over this little 5-year-old girl to the police, where I know they'll treat her just fine and handle the rest? I don't know the first thing about taking care of a kid. I don't know what they need, do, or want. I can't possibly be a father figure to anyone, not when my own father didn't give me a representation of what it takes to even be a father. She doesn't deserve to be separated from her mom or dad. We couldn't take care of her. That wasn't right.
