Our officers handed the keys to our cuffs off to the two new officials awaiting us behind the elevator’s maw. Neither passed us a notice of recognition as we were guided to stand before them. Although shaped like the average cop, their uniforms were different from traditional law enforcers. The jumpsuit adorned by both was black and all-encompassing. Their bodies could almost disappear against the elevator wall if not for the blue trim that went down the uniform’s sides. Their utility belt was the same shade, and so was the ICF etched onto the fabric against their chest. Same design I saw on the forms. Same eye.

I swallowed hard and envisioned my motions from an outsider’s perspective to monitor my composure. I ignored Jay and tried to stay him from my peripherals. I made the 180 in the direction that wouldn’t force me to look at him when I took my place.

Our old escorts headed back down the hall. While I watched them go, I saw myself darting out of the elevator and slipping between them to the exit. They would pursue me of course, so my imagination turned to them catching me, slamming me hard against the floor, and dragging me back by my heels. I experienced that brief second of belief in escape then had it robbed without any of the effort. The elevator doors rejoined and the corridor to a pseudo-freedom vanished. As we descended, the tumult sensation in my stomach was caused by more than the movement. Everything felt unreal and awfully absurd, though no one was laughing. I think I’d throw up if I did. 

The uniform’s blue sheen against the elevator's miserable visibility reminded me of the grotesque fish that lived in the deep 一 the way their own bodies had mutated sources of light. It was so dark in the car that looking at the black closed doors was like peering at the ocean's bottom. I believed in a burst that, without sight, I was sinking into some unknown underwater trench full of only the world’s most malformed creations. I didn't have to remain long. Two new accessways reeled open when the elevator stopped 一 one on the left and the other on the right. One guard shoved me through the left door.  Jay moved right and out of view.

I stood now, squinting, in an equally unlit small square room. The walls and flooring were black, but the tile was glossy, keeping the color scheme from swallowing up all the light. In front of me was another desk. Unlike the receptionist's, tinted glass was lodged from the desk to the ceiling and the walls between. I couldn’t see the person on the other side, yet I was positive they could see me.

A beige plastic bin slid toward me through an opening at the base of the glass. “Your possessions.” Came the concealed face’s voice with indifferent instruction.

I emptied my pockets and placed my findings into the container. My wallet first, then a lighter with a childish cartoon duck design. The pack of cigarettes I put down next earned me a sneer from behind. I remembered they confiscated my phone upon arrest before parting with the last thing I had 一 a pack of unopened berry-flavored gum.

My things rattled when the employee took my belongings beyond where I could see them. In a breath’s time, a second bin was passed at me. My escort took my shoulders and lurched me around. One handcuff clicked open with the same voice directing “Your clothes.” from behind.

Turning away from the cop, I untied my shoes and dropped them heavily into the bin one at a time. I slid my jacket off next and folded it onto the surface. My lips pursed when I landed on the buttons of my shirt. The guard’s unwavering eyes were on me and I guessed likewise for the other’s pair. Sandwiched between two clothed strangers who were waiting on me to expose myself was an exploration of humiliation. I tried to undress as I would in private by keeping my movements natural to show no inclination of shame. I wasn’t putting on a show for them nor was I going to entertain with embarrassment. It didn’t make the situation feel less profane when the leers were like imprints left on my bare skin. Thinking that because they witnessed me I was now theirs to rule.

Out of my control was the shiver that spread over me while placing the rest of my clothing where I had to. The chill that came from being unclothed was working against my intended indifference. Keeping my hands to my side in an expression of my undeterred dignity, I asked, “Am I getting these back?”

No response but a force through the passage to the right wall, another black tile room with an overhead faucet and drain in one corner. An encouraging push stumbled me over into the showerhead’s direction. Twisting the rusted handle welcomed a sorry stream of ice water over my unprepared head. The cold clattered my teeth. Without any soap, I didn’t see the purpose other than to stand here and freeze my ass off. The guard watched me every second, staring and still where it was dry. Losing my apparel had cost me the last of my civility. I collected a mouthful of water and spat at him, soaking a part of his uniform. He looked offended, but I was the one naked and pelted with ice water. I was the one robbed of my belongings and my privacy. I hope they at least trashed my things; I couldn’t stand the thought of someone else adorning them.

When the guard came over to collect me, he stormed near like he wanted to do so with a slap in tow. He abstained, dragged my soaking wet self back into the prior room, and pulled what looked and felt like a trash bag with armholes over my head. I dripped onto the tile while he took my hands. The open cuff snapped back closed and caused a sharp enough pain I jolted. The metal pinching my skin was kept rigidly in place long after an honest mistake. I tried to take my hand out of the trap, but his committed grip further meant it was no coincidence the flesh had been caught.

“Apologies.” He said wryly while repositioning the handcuff.

I bit back a wince and eyed the puckered part of my wrist. Blood had risen to the surface and spilled from a pin-sized puncture. Impressions of tiny foreign marks crossed my red skin. I didn’t want to comply with his direction, didn’t want to move, but I’d just been taught that in not doing so the bruisings would only multiply.