Imagine: Being involved in a case and the boys finding out how your father treats you
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I sat at the police station silently. My hands were cuffed together, circling around each other while my elbows rested on my knees. I stared at the floor angrily, thinking about what happened. In the corner of my eye, the sheriff was talking to two giant men in suits. I scoffed, listening to them talk about me.
"Y/N here walked into a store and tried to steal snacks of all things," The sheriff told the men. "We called her dad, and when we told him what he/she did, he said to make Y/N rot in jail. We've been trying to let him/her off easy, but the store owner's looking to press charges."
"Thank you, sheriff," One of the men said, and the short one came over to me.
I tensed up when the short guy stepped in front of me. I refused to look up at him.
"Hey there," He said, trying to get my attention but failing. "Why don't you tell me what happened, huh?"
I scoffed lightly, not answering him. He knelt down to meet my eye level. His eyes were a bright green, and they were bold. They stared up at my face.
"My name's Dean," He said, his voice was really deep. "That tall guy over there is my brother, Sam. We're here to help, but we can't if you don't tell us what happened."
"Would it make a difference?" I muttered quietly.
He sighed, not sure if it was frustration or not. I was used to that.
"Look, I know how you feel," He explained. "A long time ago, I was in your place."
"You don't know how I feel," I snapped. "Nobody ever does."
"What if I said that if you help us," He paused. "We could get you a get-out-of-jail-free card?"
I furrowed my eyebrows, suddenly interested.
"So," Dean said. "You gonna tell me what happened?"