Laura returns to her car... too late

Freedom never felt so good.

I sprinted down the sidewalk, my hands finally free to cover my bouncing breasts and crotch, my lips now peeled apart into a wicked grin. I could finally breathe—no more gasping through my nose like a clogged vacuum.

The parking lot came into view, and I nearly sobbed with relief. My car. My beautiful, locked, air-conditioned, clothing-filled car. I could already feel the steering wheel under my fingers, the engine roaring to life as I peeled out of this godforsaken town and—

The spot was empty.

I skidded to a halt, my bare feet scraping against the asphalt. My eyes darted left, right, searching for any sign of my car. Nothing. Just a faint oil stain where it had been parked.

"No." The word tore out of me, raw and disbelieving.

Then it hit me—the Queen. That smug, scheming little witch had taken it. She’d probably swiped my keys right out of my purse while I was dangling like a goddamn piñata.

I slapped my palm against my forehead, wincing as the motion jostled my aching muscles. "Idiot. Idiot!" Of course she’d steal my car. She’d already stolen my dignity, my clothes, and half the town’s sanity. Why not take the one thing that could get me the hell out of here?

A hot breeze rolled over my bare skin, and I clenched my fists, my nails biting into my palms. Resolving myself for an on foot journey home , I left the car park. I rounded the corner of a boutique when I heard it—the sharp clatter of a fork against a plate, followed by abrupt silence.

Two uniformed officers sat at a sidewalk café, their burgers halfway to their mouths, eyes tracking my naked sprint like a pair of hawks spotting a wounded rabbit.

"Dammit." I pivoted, but not fast enough.

"Ma'am, stop right there!" The younger cop launched from his chair, knocking over his soda. His partner lunged to block my escape route, her wrist already unsnapping the cuffs from her belt.

I skidded to a halt, sweat trickling down my spine. "Listen, this isn't—"

"You're under arrest for public indecency and disturbing the peace." The older cop spun me around before I could protest, metal clicking cold against my wrists.

"Pedro Surubo," the older cop grunted, nudging me forward. "Filed a laundry list of complaints about you."

"Well that bait-bucket can't act on them! Not without exposing his own crimes!" The sidewalk grit dug into my soles as they marched me down the block. Half the café’s patrons were filming now, their phones tracking every bounce and jiggle step.

"Oh yeah?" The younger cop's smirk reeked of skepticism. "Good thing we're not arresting you for your pier stunt then, because I'm pretty sure that had nothing to do with everything you've done since then, including the property damage and **** on our fair townsfolk."

"No, I've been set up, there's this prankster who-"

"Save it for the judge. You're hearing's already been arranged for tonight " The older cop yanked me around a corner toward the precinct, her partner whistling a jaunty tune like we were on a damn parade route.