Glass (Crank 2)

Cuffed

Totally busted.

We are stuffed

into separate cars,

hauled off to city

jail. It’s a short ride,

not even long enough

to think about what

will happen next.

Poked. Prodded.

Grilled. Well done.

Through it all I stay

calm. Silent. The ball

is in—ha-ha-ha—

their court now.

I’m allowed a call.

Need to call some

one, let them know

where I am. What’s

happened. But who?

Mom? Don’t think

so—like she needs

more ammunition.

Brad? Uh-uh. He

never bothered to

check up on me.

One person might

actually care. One

person might

actually answer