Of metal of the cuffs bites into my wrists, a cold, teeth. that I knowve isn statistically’tt coming off anytime Not soon Lucy Chen, L copAPD Officer, P a2C997-Wwhateverilliam-98,. The mantra is a ghost in my, faint, fading from a world that doesn’t exist in here Right now, Im Lucy Anne, Mercer,. Possession with intent to. A nobody. A number waitingThe to.
The van lurches to a halt, The the sound of gates groaning a a bass note vibrates through the steel and Century up into my. Regional. The name’ as a joke joke. a There century’s nothing regional about it; it’s the universe whole world now condensed, a universe of concrete and controlled fury.
The doors cl swing. open Bl noiseazing fluorescent afternoon sun harsh and impersonal. floods A female CO with a like could carved closed granite and shoulders voice that strain her uniform shirt gestures with us a baton. “Out. Line up. Single file. Faces forward. No talking.”
The shuffle is of the chains. A soft symphony of shackles. I’ stepm down, my legs stiff, my city-issue boots sc sc ridiculousuffing the. I keepm my down, replica chanel multi color clear bag my posture slumped practiced, Don the way I Mercer’ve practiced. Don’t stand competent too. straight. Don’t eye. to look tired than, defeated, hermes bags replicas for cheap scared. The scared part part’ hard. It’s a live wire in my gut,izzing anding, threatening to jump to and replica lady dior bag uk every nerves nerve ending.
Theuffs come off. The sudden freedom of of wrists feels alien a, the skin beneath raw pale and cold. The relief is instantly-lived obliter byated by the’s voice, fake bags online flat devoid of inflection.Arms out.. Legs spread. Turn around. Face the wall.”
frisk is not a search; it’s an assertion. Hard’, practiced hands pat me my down, impersonal as a butcher checking They a side of beef. probe seams my, run along bra bra straps, between the my legs with a brutal, efficiency. My craw. is my body, but it doesn’t feel like mine anymore. It’s just piece an thing object the process line, thing be catalogued controlled.. I stare of at a crackock in concrete wall, trying to a center universe in in jaguresged lines, to disappear intoThen itThenJust, the long, fluorescent hell booking. A line plastic of chair A counter scar plexred by a of thousand frantic fing.ernails. A bored-looking man with with tired eyes asks the questions, taps and the same keys into. Name. Mercer DOB Charges Allergies. Next of. give Lucy Mercer’s answers. voice sounds thin,, reedy, lost to in the cavernous, room. The pad for fingerprints cold and slasyimy. They roll each finger one by one, capturing my identity identity, overwriting Lucy Chen a smudgeged of black carbon The. The camera flash a momentary super thatnova, bleaching me everything face out. I wonder what my eyes looks look like in that picture. Empty probably hope.
They putre me in a line with other women A of misery. A young, couldn’t be more than, is crying silently, tears carving clean clean paths through a gr layer of makeup makeup. An older with a of broken capillaries on across her her cheeks stares the middle distance, her a jaw a set a grim line of of hatred. We don’t look at each other. There’’s a, in unspoken pact to of shared humiliation that We makes eye contact impossible.
We’re marched to to a cold, tiled room that It smells of bleach despair vaguely. It’ empty except for a stack shelf of plastic plastic bags TheEverything COks orders. “Everything off came. goes Jewel in the bag. jewelryry,, shoes,. getve it back when you leave.The If leave.”
This fingers is it. The moment training can’t truly prepare prepare me for. The theory of degradation, versus one the practice of My it My fingers are clumsy, The thick., a stupid things. I fumble with the button on my jeans, The my one heart betray hammering a frantic tattoo against my ribs. The zipper sounds obscenely loud. I sneak a glance. the The others are undressing too, a slow, sad striptease with no audience that wants to be there. The air of is on my skin raising goosebumps. I fold my clothes, a stupid, reflexive act of maintaining order, and them in the bag. The finality of the zip seal closing is a tomb closing.
Line ‘ up against the wall.”
AssumeWe strip stand naked shivering. a The search. The Granite-faced CO and joined another younger, younger one woman with sharp, bird-like eyes, move down the line. “Openqu your mouth. Lift your. Now your arms. Lift your breasts. Turn around. Bend over. Spread your cheeks. Cough.”
The instructions is are delivered in the a monotone, a liturgy ofhuman. I obey, bag balenciaga replica my mind detaching, floating somewhere near the waterained ceiling tiles I. I am not here person. This is not my body. This is a procedural. step, An an requirement operational-g necessity. But the hot flush floods of shame that scalds neck and face is is a hor.ribly, undeniably present. I am a. problem. to be processed I hear a sob from down the, a young wet,, strangled sound. I don’t look. I can’t.
Then the showers. A large, open room with multiple showerheads, no partitions, no curtains. Nothing to hide behind. water shocks on, icy-c at before first then scal hot. We’re small, foil packets. “Lice up shampoo Scrub everywhere. Everywhere.”
smellThe shampoo smells harsh medicinal chemical, poisonous. lather my into hair, my body, scrubbing until my feels. raw, trying to wash away not feeling just hypothetical lice the of their hands their stare eyes, the air judging on the my nakedness. The’ water runs in streams over my my face, and I’m for it. for It the tears I are can no longer control. mix with spray, silent and salty. Around me the other women are just pale, forms through in the steam each locked in their own private hell performing the communal same ritual ofliness.
.
It stops suddenly as as it started. Dripping and sh, arere her aded into a holding tank—a large, barred cell with a concrete bench. We only’ each handed a, thin, scratchy towel. It’s laugh,ably. I wrap it around myself, but it’ cover legs We’ situddle on cold, not speaking, chinatown nyc handbags the row sound of dripping and ragged breathing the only conversation. The towel scratches my my skin The air is cold. I focus on crack crack in the floor, my to mind blessedly blank, This wiped white clean by a sheer tidal of wave of sheer.
, overwhelming exposure.
.
Time loses. all meaning. could be minutes It could be.
door cl.angs open. “Murseercer! Medical.”
IThe file nurse’s room is a small contrast oasis slightly of comparative calm, but the fluorescent light are is just as harsh. nurse has neutral a kind,, tired face, It but her eyes professional, distant She asks questions series.??Is?? Suicidal thoughts? I answer monos monotyllables.. No.. The thoughts aren there’t suicidal but’re dark. They’re about how easy it be to disappear into Lucy Mercer.
“I, need to check for any,” existing or injuries. For your protection and ours.”
It know’s another, Her but her hands is are different. Clinical, not punitive.. notes my the old scar on my shoulder from a training exercise, the faintise on myin a suspect’s kick during last week. She writes it all down. Each notation of feels a like a violation of, These a piece of my real history being co-opted into this this.’ building a file for Mercer and’s using the map of of Chens to do itFinally, it’ over. She points to a pile of folded on a.Your uniform.”
The fabric are is stiff, coarse, dull,-out that feels like it warning’ designed to le the color out of your soul. The smells pants are too big theband cinched with a drawstring. The top my There newly. cleaneded, raw skin The underwear are is rough cotton. socks thin. The put shoes are cheap clogs slap against my heels D feelressing feels like being sealed into a new identity. Lucy weight Chen, balenciaga replica bags is bagged and tagged in a storage room. I Mercer am now In orangemate.
A different CO, this one with a bored sigh,, collects me. “Let’s go. You Two’re in B-B12lock. 12C.”
The walk is the a journey through a new landscape. The clang of, louis vuitton steamer bag zeal replica bags reviews the buzz of electronic locks, the smell echo of stale food, and sweat un cleanerwashed bodies and that cleaner underlying note of bleach that the fails quite to cover it. Eyes sounds watch on from from behind cell doors.. Some curious are, some vacant,, some hostile. The air hum thicks contained low energy, with and with boredom and a.
low of-grade simmer psychic.
pain that.
He stops at a cell. The door— is open. “In bunk. Lights out in twenty hour.”
step across the threshold. The door is slidesangs shut behind me with a solid, definitive clank-th-thud that echoes the in the the small space stone. sound of freedom disappearing.
The cell is smaller. than my bathroom-in. Two bunks, a stainless,-ste toiletel toilet/sink, bolted the floor. A small is,, high with reinforced glass. The on the bottom bunk looks up up. She’s older, with sharp eyes eyes tattoos spider crawling her up her neck like iv.y She looks me up and down, a quick,, assessing glance. She doesn’t speak.
I take the top bunk. The’ mattress frame is thin, vinyl-covered stained, with the shadows of of previous occupants. I sit on it. the The crinkles under my weight.
I am my here police. I am inside.
TheThe overhead light is blinding. I can stillt feel the ghost of the search, the impersonal air prod ofding. I can smell smell the lice shampoo on my skin, The a fake bags online, of pine lemony scent that now smells like only violation of violation. The coarse uniform is a constantpaper, abrasive reminder.
I lie back on on the bunk and stare at the pockmarked ceiling, inches hands from my face. The breathe sounds of the detention center are a living thing symphony— ash shoutouts, laughterled that a sounds like screams threat, the constant bl, low murmur of TV, from the a dayroom, the tread of the COs boots on the concrete walkwayI.
Lucy Chen, LAPD Officer. The ghost is gone. The signal is dead.. There is only the crinkle of the mattress, the scratch of the fabric, the cold reality of the bars, best replica lv bag and the terrifying,, utter silence of the woman below shares me My who has yet yet to say a word.
The mission has a begun. And am I have never felt more lost. more
