A Psychiatrist

The walls of the police station were suffocating. The smell of stale coffee and cheap disinfectant lingered in the air, mixing with the quiet murmurs of officers shuffling through paperwork.

Olivia stood at the front desk, her fingers drumming impatiently against the counter.

"I want to see my mother," she said firmly, barely masking the irritation in her voice.

The officer behind the desk barely spared her a glance. "Ms. Swift, we've been through this before. You are not permitted to see her before her trial."

Olivia clenched her fists, frustration bubbling beneath her skin. "And why the hell not? She's my mother!"

The officer sighed, looking as if he'd rather be anywhere but here. "Orders from above. No exceptions."

Before Olivia could snap back, a familiar voice interrupted.