To The Bottom Of This

Elyra walked towards the station. She had managed to find her jeans--eventually, after much hunting--as well as a hoodie that more or less matched. At least, it didn't clash, and that was good enough for her. 

As she walked, she munched on a cereal bar. It was too early to make breakfast. Besides, she was an adult now. She stopped growing about six years ago and her parents weren't there--they lived at the other end of the country, for goodness sake--to tell her what to do. She was free.

I could have done with a bit of parental support now, though, she thought as she munched. Probably a prank call. 

Of course it was a prank call. Why hadn't she thought of that before? Elyra calmed down straight away. But what would happen when she arrived at the station?

Probably a fine for wasting their time, she reflected. Or worse. I don't know. What's the punishment for that kind of thing? She paused in her walk. I'll just explain about the call.

Moments later, and feeling much happier, Elyra arrived at the police station. She had her mobile phone in her hand--she had recorded the entire phone call. Now they would not be able to dispute her claims of "It wasn't my fault!"

Cautiously, she pushed open the heavy blue door and went inside. Two policeman were sitting side by side at a desk. Next to them was a serious-looking man: she didn't know who that could be. He held a sealed plastic bag; a vial of blood was visible, and some strands of hair.

"Hello? I'm, uh, Elyra," she said, bewildered. She had not known what to expect.

"This is the victim," said the policeman to the serious-looking man. "Elyra, this is the detective that is investigating your case. Is there anything you would like to ask?"

"Yes!" Only a hundred things. "What the heck is going on here?"

The End

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