Bab 75: Jail

"Dammit! Why do I have to be in a holding cell with that guy?" Matt whined, his voice grating against the cold, damp walls of the holding cell. I ignored him, thankful that there was a row of bars separating us so I couldn't smack the shit out of him to shut him up. He'd just been complaining non stop since we left the hospital. That fucking visit had turned into a nightmare so damn fast, and now I was stuck here, listening to Matt's incessant complaints without my headphones.

The holding cell fucking sucked too. It was nothing but four grimy walls, a nasty stainless steel toilet, and flickering fluorescent migraine inducing lights that stayed on 24/7. The place reeked of stinky feet, stale booze, sweat, urine, puke and that unmistakable stench of a homeless guy who probably hadn't bathed in weeks.

Not a common sight in the suburbs.