"OH MY FUCK!!!" The detective yelped scrambling out of his chair.
"You know what happens to your job if a suspect harms themselves under your supervision, right?" I said, my voice steady despite the light pain. "And let's not forget you didn't read me my rights, you denied me a phone call and a lawyer—both of which are also my legal rights. That's against the law. The public would be just fascinated to know how fucked your department would be if I died in here."
The detective froze.
"This doesn't have to be hard, detective," I continued as blood dripped from my wrist onto the floor. "Hurry up. Save your job or let me die. Ignore the order. Transfer me to a hospital now."
For a moment, the room was silent. Was the act good enough? Was he going to let me bleed out because it was easier? Then, with a curse, the detective bolted for the door, yelling for help.
I exhaled and held more desperate tears back.
***
