Tiffany wasn't sure why, but walking through the church comforted her, for some reason. As she said earlier, back at the Ferguson house, she wasn't all that religious. But there was something about this place that made her feel better. Just being there seemed to help. She hoped that Pastor David White could help even more, just like Roger said. On the way there, she kept wanting to get out of these prudish clothes, but after arriving there and seeing other women wearing similar outfits, she didn't feel quite as bad about it. Sure, it wasn't her thing, opting to rather show a bit more skin, obviously, but she didn't feel quite as much out-of-place.
"Just take a seat here. I'll go find the pastor," Roger said, gesturing towards a chair. Neither of them realized that since the Ferguson house, Tiffany had gotten a little older. She was now 18 and was only two months away from graduating from high school. She'd go to college in the fall.
Tiffany sat down, then watched as Roger left the room. She momentarily thought about leaving. This was her chance, right? To escape? To get back to school? But she didn't. She felt like she genuinely needed the pastor's help. Maybe she didn't believe in possessions, but something happened back there, right? Maybe Pastor White had the answers.
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Officer Kurt Maybourn sat down at his desk and looked over at the woman seated there. Her name was Grace Littleton, age 38, and they had had some run-ins with each other before. Like usual, she was dressed in all black - a T-shirt with some rock band Kurt had never heard of before, a leather miniskirt, ripped fishnet stockings, and military-style boots. Her hair was dyed black, she wore dark eyeliner and eye-shadow, her nails were painted black, and she was pale as hell.
"Well, it's about fucking time," Grace said, sneering. "What the hell have you been doing for the last hour, making me wait here?"
"Grace, watch the language," Kurt said, shuffling the papers in his hands.
She rolled her eyes.
Kurt had no idea how this woman could have grown up this way. After all, she was old enough to be someone's mother, yet she was just as rebellious as some of those Goth kids at the high school, like that Sabrina Johnson girl who, growing up, was always one step away from being thrown into juvie.
He sighed. "Look. The woman who caught you in her apartment doesn't want to press charges. Don't ask me why, but she wants to give you a second chance. But listen. You pull something like this again, I won't care what people say in your defense. I'll book you, you got that?"
"Yeah, yeah," she said, then stood up. "So I'm free to go?"
"Yes." He removed her handcuffs and watched as she left the precinct in a huff.
