My Idiot.

The police station was alive with activity. Officers moved back and forth, phones rang incessantly, and the air smelled faintly of burnt coffee and stale paperwork. 

Hugo sat on an uncomfortable metal bench, his wrists cuffed in front of him and his head tilted back against the wall. 

His Benz, the car he'd only just started enjoying, was now gone—towed to who-knows-where. 

"This is the worst day of my life," Hugo muttered, glancing at the officer stationed nearby. 

"No, scratch that. Second worst. The worst was when I was 14 and got dumped in a pizza shop and still had to split the bill." 

The officer ignored him, busy typing up a report. Hugo sighed loudly, fidgeting with the cuffs. 

"Any chance we can skip this whole process? Maybe call it even? I mean, I only endangered a few lives." 

The officer didn't even blink.