Jonah was still rubbing his wrists, which were sore from the handcuffs. He was sitting at some party, smoking dope, drinking and chatting with girls, when suddenly the police burst in and very quickly grabbed everyone. Jonah didn't even have time to come to his senses before they twisted his arms and put him in a car, taking him and several other party participants to the station.

Now he and several others were sitting in a cell while an officer outside sat at a table and made phone calls to the parents of minors and friends of adults to post bail and pay fines for noise after 11:00 p.m., the use and distribution of soft drugs, and God knows what else.

"Fucking law dog's..." — Jonah hisses under his breath, leaning on the bars. He tried to call Adam when he had the chance, but he didn't pick up. Of course, it's almost three in the morning! Then he dictated another number to the policeman and this man was his only hope. He doesn't want to spend the rest of the night sitting in this fucking cell with drunk teenagers whose parents didn't pick them up and some homeless guy sleeping on a bench.