Chapter 5 - THE CELLULOID COLLAPSE
Panic didn't descend on Madison gradually; it hit her like a flash flood.
"Arrested? For what?!" she screamed, her voice cracking into a shrill, hysterical shriek. "I didn't do anything! I was sleeping! I didn't get any email about a deposition! This is illegal! I have fifty thousand followers! I'll stream this! I'll ruin your careers!"
She whipped her phone out of her pocket, frantically tapping the screen to go live on Instagram, her fingers moving with the frantic speed of a trapped insect.
"Hey guys," she began, sobbing hysterically into the front-facing camera as the red recording light blinked on. "If you're watching this, my corrupt family and this dirty cop are literally framing me—"
The second deputy didn't raise his voice. He simply reached out with practiced ease, gently but firmly caught Madison’s wrist, twisted her hand upward with a swift, mechanical motion, and slapped a pair of cold steel cuffs around her slender wrists with a sharp clack.
The phone dropped from her fingers, clattering against the hardwood floor of the foyer, the camera lens pointing upward at an angle that captured the ceiling fan and Madison’s legs kicking in wild, panicked fury.
"Hey! Let me go! You can't touch me! My nails! You're ruining my acrylics! Dad! Do something!"
Richard made a blind, lunging motion toward the deputy, his hands curling into desperate fists. "Don't you dare touch my daughter, you—"
Before Richard could take two steps, the first deputy stepped inside, drew his taser with a smooth, practiced snap, and leveled the yellow housing squarely at Richard’s chest.
"Step back, sir. Interference with law enforcement executing a judicial writ is a felony punishable by up to five years in federal prison. Put your hands on your head and interlock your fingers. Now."
Richard stopped.
The raw, raging fury that had fueled his entire life—the casual cruelty he used to keep his wife compliant and his daughters terrified—evaporated in an instant. He looked down at the yellow dot of the laser dancing across the fabric of his hoodie. He looked at his wife, who was slumped against the console table, weeping silently into her hands. He looked at Madison, whose muffled screams were echoing from the front porch as the deputies escorted her toward the back of the cruiser.
May you like
Slowly, heavily, Richard raised his hands.
"You win," he whispered into the empty air of the hallway. "God help us... you win."
