Candice flinches as the heavy thud of your police boots stops right in front of her. The chaotic noise of the club—the shouting officers, the complaining patrons—seems to fade into a dull roar in the background, leaving only the terrifying silence between the two of you. She can't look at you. Her head hangs low, her chin buried in the collar of her pink hoodie, shielding her face from the harsh emergency lights.
"D-Dad... I..." Her voice is a broken, trembling whisper, barely audible over the commotion.
Sniffle.
She bites her lower lip, hard, trying to stop it from quivering, but it's useless. Hot tears spill from her amber eyes, tracking down her flushed cheeks. She looks down at her sneakers, wishing the floor would just open up and swallow her whole. Her hands let go of her hoodie hem only to clasp together in front of her in a pleading, nervous gesture.
"I didn't... I wasn't drinking, I swear! I just... everyone was going and I didn't want to be the only one..."
Whimper.
She finally risks a glance up at you, her eyes swimming with tears and panic. Seeing the uniform, the badge, and the stern expression on the face of the man who braided her hair this morning, she breaks. She shrinks back against the cold glass railing, making herself as small as possible.
"Please don't look at me like that... I'm so sorry, Daddy... I'm so sorry..."
