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Maddie
Maddie
My alarm blares, and I groggily reach out to silence the noise. As I wake, the events of last night come rushing back to me–Damien disappearing, frantically calling Roland for help, the way his strong arms felt around me as we sat on the couch. And then the relief when Erin found Damien safe and sound.
"Thank you," I whisper, sending a silent prayer of gratitude for my brother's safety and Roland's assistance.
I sit up in bed, rubbing the sleep from my eyes–steeling myself for the day ahead. Last night's intimacy with Roland lingers in my mind, but I push it away, knowing that there are more pressing matters to attend to. The memory of Roland's dark hair and olive-toned skin, softened by the glow of the moonlight (or probably a nearby streetlamp, but the moon was out), is hard to shake. But I have to focus on what's important: Damien's well-being.
Pulling back the covers and sliding out of bed, I stretch this way and that till I feel somewhat refreshed. I go to the bathroom and take a very quick shower, get dressed, and then head to Damien's bedroom.
"Damien, wake up" He stirs and groggily opens his eyes. "How are you feeling?"
"Ugh, tired," he mumbles, voice heavy with sleep.
"Come on, sleepyhead," I urge him. "We have to be at the police station in an hour. You are fine, right? Not too dizzy?"
"Let me sit up and see."
Damien sits up, then shakes his head. "Nah, I'm all right. A bit nauseous, but not too much."
"Good. I'll make breakfast while you take a shower and get dressed. Hopefully, the aftereffects of whatever got into your system will soon be gone." I head to the kitchen, pulling together a quick meal for us. It doesn't take long before a somewhat more awake Damien joins me.
"Listen, Damien," I say, placing first a smoothie, then a plate of scrambled eggs in front of him. "It's really important that you always tell me where you're going. I know you can usually look after yourself, but we need to have each other's backs, OK?"
"OK, Maddie," he replies, his blue eyes meeting mine with a mixture of understanding and embarrassment.
"Good," I say, giving him a reassuring smile. "Now eat up, and let's get this over with. And by the way, not all older kids are like that. So don't go thinking everyone will trick you, all right?"
"I know. Honestly, I don't know why they did what they did. I'm not even sure they tried to give us drugs or just mixed things up."
We step out of our apartment building, the chill (if you can call it that..."relative cool" might be more appropriate) of the morning air feeling refreshing. Damien walks beside me, his hands stuffed in his pockets as we make our way to the police station.
"Thanks for coming with me," he says quietly, a touch of vulnerability in his voice.
"Of course," I reply, squeezing his shoulder reassuringly. "That's what family is for. Besides, I'm your legal guardian, so I'd be the one going to prison if you didn't show up."
This makes Damien laugh and it's nice to see him smiling again.
As we enter the police station, the odor of disinfectant hits me (do they have to clean a police station with disinfectant or is it just to annoy people?), and I take a deep breath to steady myself. I have no ideas what is going to happen if drugs were involved... do we have to go to court? We approach the front desk, where an officer in uniform ushers us toward a small waiting area.
I immediately spot Emily, Daniel's mom, sitting in one of the chairs. Her eyes are red-rimmed and tired, but I can still sense her strength and anger beneath the surface.
"Hey, how's Daniel doing?" I ask and give her a hug. Daniel and Damien have been friends for years, so Emily and I have developed a friendship too, even if we aren't super close.
"Better, thankfully." She sighs, running a hand through her hair. "The doctors said he had more drugs in his system than they initially thought, but he's under supervision and should be OK soon."
"Thank God," I murmur, relief washing over me. Damien nods in agreement, his face solemn. "And it was drugs then, not just alcohol?"
"Ketamine." Before I have time to process this, my thoughts are interrupted by a booming voice.
"All right," an officer calls out from a nearby doorway. "We're ready for Damien Johnson."
I shoot Daniel's mom a quick glance, then get up and follow Damian down a narrow hallway to a small room with a table and chairs. The walls are lined with corkboards covered with papers and photos. As we sit down, the officer begins asking Damien questions about what happened the night before. My brother repeats his story, giving as many details as he can remember. Unfortunately, the alcohol he was served made everything fuzzy. However, when shown photos, he's able to identify both the younger kids (but older than Damien) who brought them there, and the kids who presumably provided the drugs and alcohol.
"All right, thank you," the officer says after Damien finishes. "You're free to go."
"Wait, that's it?" I ask, surprised by how quickly it's all over.
