Early in the morning an officer with a food cart came by Charity's cell. "You had quite the bender last night, didn't you?"
"Yes, Ma'am." Charity was happy that she could actually formulate words. She had been worried that she had lost the ability to speak.
"Well, this is the drunk tank. Luckily for you, Detective Tumalo is not going to file any charges, so you should be able to collect your personal effects in a few hours after the bureaucrats are satisfied and head on home. I believe that Detective Tumalo, herself, is going to come and collect you."
"Thank you, Ma'am," Charity said as the officer handed her a protein bar, a bottle of water, and ibuprofen.
Charity lay back down on the fold out bed and tried to calm her racing mind. Hope was still missing. Blue was still missing. And Charity was terrified by her actions the night before - at least, what she remembered...
She felt like she couldn't understand what people were saying. She couldn't form the words she wanted to express. She had been incredibly horny - kissing every woman that stepped near her. She had been so quick to anger. She had never felt the need to physically attack someone ever in her life before. Was the belt turning her into an animal? Was it stripping her of her ability to reason? She was extremely afraid. "I've got to get out of here and get a dose of the medicine," she thought. Anything to prevent her from losing her humanity.
After a couple of hours, the officer returned with a set of full prisoner restraints. "It's policy," the officer explained as she cuffed Charity's hands to a belt which had another chain descending to a set of ankle fetters.
Charity was escorted down a hall into a room with a table and two chairs. Charity sat down and the officer linked Charity's ankle chain to a loop on the floor. After waiting another ten minutes, Detective Tumalo walked into the room and sat down. She placed a phone on the table. "I think this is yours."
Charity started to reach for it, but the chains prevented her from succeeding. "Yes, Ma'am."
Tumalo picked it up and activated the screen. "You should protect your device with a pin, or something. Otherwise, anyone can thumb through your phone."
"I do," Charity said nervously.
"Doesn't look like it," Tumalo said, swiping from screen to screen. "I took the liberty of reviewing your text log. Seems like you kept a good record of last night's activities... which bars... how many drinks... You're a buck 10? A buck 15? Your blood alcohol content was quite high..."
"Yes, Ma'am," Charity said. "I don't usually drink. At all."
Tumalo kept scrolling through the text stream. "I don't really understand this thread though," Tumalo continued. "Some messages are listed as being from 'Keyholder', but they are sent from your phone. Are you 'Keyholder'?"
"Am I supposed to have my lawyer with me if you are asking questions?" Charity asked.
"Don't worry Metolius is on her way... and your boss, too... Perit..."
"Why Perit?" Charity asked.
Tumalo ignored Charity's question. "These web links in your text messages are pretty wild." Tumalo seemed to be watching some kind of video on Charity's phone. "What is this? Lesbian body modification hardcore porn? Heh... These two women have their tongue piercings locked together. Do you like this stuff?"
"I've never seen anything like that," Charity said, staring at the table.
"It looks like you stored it in your message history. At least your 'Keyholder' personality did," Tumalo said.
Finally, Tumalo put the phone down on the table. "You've been exhibiting a string of erratic behaviors recently. I'm kind of concerned about how well you are holding up to all the stresses in your life."
"Have you found Hope, yet?" Charity asked, trying to gain some sort of control of the conversation.
"Are these activities that you believe are normal?" Tumalo continued. "Painting yourself green? Is that something normal people do?"
"It's temporary," Charity said.
"How about running around naked in public places?" Tumalo asked.
"I was drunk last night. I don't know what got into me," Charity responded.
The door opened and Metolius and Perit entered the room.
"Oh, hello," Detective Tumalo said to the newcomers. "We were just talking about how Charity has a habit of running around naked in public places."
"That was just..." Charity started, then she looked up at Metolius who was standing with her arms crossed, frowning. "Where is Hope, is she OK?"
"You seem to be wearing a very strange pair of underwear," Tumalo said. "We couldn't really figure out how you take them off."
Charity stared at the table.
"Can you take them off?" Tumalo asked.
Charity mumbled, "I don't have the key."
"You don't have the key?" Tumalo laughed. "Well, that's quite a predicament. Who has the key?"
"Blue has the key," Charity whispered.
"Blue? Blue, who has been 'missing'," Tumalo used air quotes, "'missing' for over four months?"
"Abducted!" Charity said, inadvertently rattling the chains of her bonds. "If you would quit spending your time investigating me, maybe you would be closer to finding her. Obviously, it's in my best interest to help you in every way that I can. And every time I try, I feel like you simply turn your focus on me."
"I have no doubt that you are a victim, Ms. McKenzie," Tumalo said. "My concern is that the stress is causing you to make some very poor decisions. Unhealthy decisions. Decisions that endanger others. For example, I have a question for you to answer... Where is the decorated woman? Where is 'Hope', as you call her?"
"I don't know," Charity said, tears beginning to fall suddenly from her eyes.
"Well, it's kind of convenient that you've misplaced her as soon as we expressed interest in communicating with her!"
Charity looked up at Perit briefly. She was frowning too.
"It seems," Tumalo continued, "that you told Perit that 'Hope' was incapable of surviving alone in the city, but it looks like she is doing a damn good job of disappearing into it. I certainly wouldn't think that she is easily camouflaged!"
"I'm... I'm really worried about her..." Charity whispered. She occasionally forgot her hands were bound to her waist and tried to unsuccessfully wipe her eyes.
"There are no charges pressed against you," Tumalo said, finally. "So I can't keep you here. But the three of us have talked and we are concerned about your mental health. We have decided that we are going to send you up to the asylum for a mandated 72 hour observation period."
"What?!" Charity said, looking up at Perit. "That's not necessary!"
"Said the green woman who consensually locked her own sex away," Tumalo mumbled.