Fourteen year old Tim Mangan angrily tried to pull his wrists apart. The cold metal cuffs his father had slapped on him were too tight, squeezing into his flesh.

“Dad!” he yelled from the back of the police car. “Dad! Let me out!”

But Dan was talking to an officer, and next to him stood his cousin Bo, gingerly touching his jaw where Tim had clocked him.

Tim’s friends had all been cuffed and stuffed into police cars. Next to him was Blade, who was shaking and looked clammy sick green. He was coming down from his high, Tim knew.

“You blow chunks on me, I’ll kick your ass!” he threatened Blade.

Blade just moaned.

Tim felt the sharp shudder through his thin frame. The LSD was wearing off, and quickly. His stomach turned over. The last few hours were a haze in his mind.

They had arrived at Scott’s, and lit up the newly purchased weed. But instead of the usual mellow, relaxing feeling, Tim quickly felt something like electricity shoot through him. Around him, the others twitched as well, and they were all reaching the bong, wanting more.

Tim had giggled like his kid sister when the horse on a nearby magazine cover trotted it out of it to chase the cartoon teddy bear. Then the pineapple began to dance and Blade’s alien head turned to him. “Dude,” he squeaked out, “you’re like, sparkly!”

Soon, there were ribbons of light dancing around the room, and Tim found himself staring at the magazine cover of Angelina Jolie. She was beautiful, he thought, except for the crawling bugs over her face.

Shit, the bugs were crawling towards him, no they were on him! He was covered in bugs. Tim leapt to his feet, swiping at the bugs, but they kept coming and then he felt the stings.

Slapping at bugs and screaming at himself, he swung when a giant bug came near him. “Tiiiiimmmmm…” came the distorted voice. The bug had blond hair and he was huge. Time screamed and leapt at it, fists swinging and flailing. Then the bug had him and Tim kicked as hard as he could. There were other bugs, big bugs, they were shouting in heavy, distorted voices and he could see huge pincers being waved around. Tim screamed and screamed until a bug slapped him and then everything went dark.

When he opened his eyes a few minutes later, he was wearing handcuffs, and his father was standing over him, his dark eyes livid.

“Da…” Tim tried to speak but his face felt heavy.

“You are in so much trouble right now, boy, you just better keep your mouth shut!” Dan hissed.

Bo was there, holding ice on his face. He put one hand on Dan’s chest and murmured something to Dan.

“I don’t care, Bo, he could have seriously hurt you! Or any one of these delinquents, including himself!” Dan shouted. "This has gone on long enough; it's the final straw!"

I’m not a delinquent, Tim thought fuzzily. He glanced over at Blade, who still seemed to have his alien face on.

Then he saw the other men. Police. Oh shit, he thought. They had busted them with all the pot. Where was the rest of it? The bong was being bagged, and Tony was throwing up on the floor. Tim could see big pieces of the marijuana in the vomit. Evidently, Tony had tried to swallow the rest of it.

Then his father grabbed him, and hauled him to his feet.

“Take his ass downtown and book him,” Dan snapped. “He can spend the night in a cell.”

Tim could barely stand but his father shoved him forward. A police officer caught him by the shoulder and forced him to walk on rubbery legs.

He was shoved into the backseat of a squad car. The red and blue flashing lights danced for him, spinning around and around…and Tim felt nauseated. The other side door opened and Blade was dumped in, also cuffed.

“Dude…the zombies are here…they’re gonna eat our faces!”

No, Tim thought, the dancing lights will keep them away. But the lights weren’t dancing so much now, just going in circles…

Tim leaned back and closed his eyes.

Then he was flying, zooming along, but instead of fresh air hitting his face, he smelled vomit and cheap cologne.

He opened his eyes drowsily and looked around when a blast of cold air hit his face. He was hauled out of the car and began to shake. His brain was clearing, and he recognized the police station.

Why was he at the police station? He had been smoking a joint with the guys…flashes hit him hard. Dancing horses, giant bugs, his father. Holy shit, his father. Dan had been there. “Let him spend the night in a cell.” Echoed through his head.

No. No, surely Dan wasn’t going to leave him there! Not overnight! He was a kid! Just a kid!

He was yanked out of the car and forced to walk. The other cars pulling up held his friends. They were frog-marched into the station, still cuffed, most of them stumbling, and muttering incoherently.

One by one, they were photographed. Tim was told to look forward. There was a flash of light, turn, another flash of light.

But then he saw the inkpad. His heart began to pound as the officer took his small hand, and holding his thumb, rolled it over the ink. She repeated the process and all Tim could do was watch as his fingers rolled over the bright white paper, leaving a pattern of black ink.

Finally, he was led to a holding cell. Blade joined him soon after, then Tony, and Spike and Scott.

The clanging of the doors as they swung shut buried itself in Tim’s mind forever.

***
Author Notes
- A huge thank you to Ronda, my lovely editor who did a super fast edit for me.
- This was written for photo #44 of the CWE 3: A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words Challenge. Thank you to the CWE team for coming up with this fun challenge!
- THis wasn't a happy piece, but it's something Tim lives with and decided it was time to share. It's a point in time that no one in the family likes to think about, especially Tim and Dan.
- Word Count 961

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