Ronin hadn't been home for more than twenty seconds before his father was on his case, grabbing Ronin's face with a stern worry. Ronin found himself in his father's car, driving quickly on the rough ground. He lacked the energy to fight against his father's plans and instead protested in a dry strain, continuing to tell his father he was fine. He glanced at Ronin and back at the road continuously.
They came to a rapid stop as his father dragged Ronin out of the car and made his way quickly to the police station. surprised as he looked around. He he never thought about the seriousness of his situation until he heard his father's yelling echoing through the station.
Sitting on the cold bench, Ronin avoided the constant eyes. His foot began to tap as he waited for his father to return. Wiping his bloody lip and smearing it on his damp jeans quickly, he looked up at the clock, his eyebrows beginning to bow.
After his father returned, they settled at a desk with another man, who began to ask a series of questions while also glaring up at Ronin's father.
"I'm fine!" Ronin confessed, leaping from his chair until his father's tight grip forced him back down. Sulking, Ronin sat in the chair as they warned him of the severity of the situation. The men then got up and headed to the nearest printer. Ronin's father left, trailing after the man. Looking around quickly, the words Noah's friends had said to him rang in his head, and he tapped his leg, twitching in the suspense.
Flying from his chair, he sprinted down the nearest hall, pulling his jacket over his thick hair as the empty hallway coated him. He looked at the doors, reading each one; the hallway was long and soon connected to the main entrance. Ronin, beginning to sweat, looked across the opening, his eyes widening as he made his way swiftly through a group of officers.
"Hey!" he heard a deep voice growl as Ronin jerked back into the man's tight grip.
He began to question Ronin, "I-I just need the bathroom," Ronin said, watching the man's reaction and pointing sternly. "Down the hall," the man said before scolding Ronin again.
Walking where the man had told him, he watched for his stare to release him before weaving around a corner. Ronin was met with a door, its clear name calling him in. Ronin twisted the knob, his stomach dropped as the little time he had ran out. The door was locked.
He felt a tight grip on his arm as he looked up and found a woman's intense gaze.
"Young man, what do you think you're doing!?" the woman yelled before dragging him through the station; luckily, his father had run into them in an attempt to find Ronin.
"Ronin, what the hell were you thinking!" his father scolded. "This is a police station. It's not a playground." Ronin hated being talked to like a child, their disappointing tone was one to stick with him.
He followed his father back to the desk, the woman supervising behind them.
He was sitting down in his father's office as two other officers leaned against the wall, watching their interaction.
A man stepped forward. "Ronin, this is a serious matter. Trying to sneak through the police station and not to mention your violent intentions, this is something that could end you in a detention center," the man said informatively.
Ronin's eyes widened, beginning to water. He looked to the side, his lips pursed.
"I-i didn't mean it," Ronin began to speak, "it's just they-they were gonna...hurt me." his voice started to shake. "Shit, they were gonna kill me," he finished, refusing to let them see his face. Exchanging glances, the officer then continued to ask.
"Who?, "Who are they?"
He watched Ronin with intent.
"I-I don't know their names," he started fidgeting with his fingers under the table as he thought through every word he had wanted to say. Before getting up from his chair, sliding it across the floor under him as he stood up. "I wanna go home," he said, continuing to hide his face.
"You're lucky your dad's a cop," the man said, glancing at his father. "We'll look into it," he said, pressing his pen on the table and retracting the led as he examined the page and waved Ronin and his father out.
The drive home was the opposite of silent. Ronin argued with himself; he was drowning in his self-worth. And the things he had tried to forget came back to him: the dark demeanor, the flashing lights, the loud voices. Everything seemed to blend into one distorted piece.
Frowning at his once innocent self and the stupid future he had dreamed of. His parents' argumentative statures had stood in the living room. The lights were dim, ad the then unrecognizable shadows fell.
The car whipped a tight turn into the driveway, interrupting the nightmare he had immersed himself in.