Academy of Bad Decisions

“You’ll do great, honey. Mommy believes in you. Love you, bye!”

I watched as my mom sped off out of the college campus; I sighed dragging along my bags and other supplies.

“This is going to be horrible...” I looked up at the light blue building, a place that has a long history of other officers passing through harsh training and succeeding in their dreams of becoming one and so much more from 2004. The building cast an ominous glow, as if it knew what these six months were going to be.

“Hey slowpoke! Hurry your ass up! You’re late!” I was startled out my deep thoughts as a commanding voice boom behind me. A woman about 5’2, dark skinned, thin eyebrows, sharped brown eyes and black hair neatly tuck into a bun. Her tan colored uniformed tight against her curves with her black short, heeled shoes. She folded her arms, fixing her glasses on top of her sharp nose, her bamboo shaped baton which was about 12’inches in her left hand as she does so.

“Did you not hear me?! Move!” She yelled, I quickly left my stuff on the sidewalk and joined the line of recruits, standing ready and at attention. My heart pounding against my chest.

I watched as a 6’0 cinnamon skin colored man with a reddish undertone, thick eyebrows, hazel eyes, full pinkish lips, low haircut and smooth-shaven face. His tan colored uniform hugged against his toned body and his broad muscles poking under his sleeves and his shiny boots that shimmer under the sun; his tan barrette neatly sat on his head; came out of a light blue building, not attached to the main building, assuming to be the auditorium. He stands before us, placing both of his hands on top of his 12’inched bamboo shaped baton.

“Welcome to the Police Academy,” his throaty voice booms over us with so much authority; his eyes rack over his new 35 recruits. His eyes sharped when it landed on me, I quickly adverted my eyes, feeling dread creep over my shoulder. He began walking through the 5 organized lines, sizing us. “I’m Inspector Braynen, your primary Drill Instructor and P.T assisting Instructor and this is my partner Inspector Johnson, assisting Drill Instructor and primary P.T instructor. You’ll meet your other instructors down the line.”

He returned to the front, the sun scorching our backs throw our suits, I remain brace up, preparing my mental state for this new step in my life.

“You should be proud that we pick you useless asses and are going to make sure you're grateful. I’ve seen most of your faces before, who really aren't supposed to be here, people who failed the entrance and physical exam and probably got their mommies and daddies to do something about it. A lot of people are praying to be in your spot, so don't fuck it up.” He spoke firmly, spinning his baton through his fingers.

We expect dedication, focus, and integrity above all else. Understood? We don't babysit nor do we take care of crybabies. If you want to leave, your time is now.” Inspector Johnson added, looking over us. "No one? Good.”

“This job isn't for everyone. It will challenge you in ways you can't imagine, and this is what this training college is training you to prepare for.” Inspector Braynen stated a shadow casting over his eyes from his hat.

“Yes sir!”, we all said in unison, looking ahead and prepared for what's to come.

Inspector Braynen nod, “Good. Let's get started. Fall out.” He ordered.

As we all began to leave, I sighed, looking at my stuff still on the sidewalk. I began dragging my stuff to the dorms, which was a tall light blue building that sat behind the main office known as the ‘Enquires’. An officer stood at the entrance of the dorms, paper in hand. He was about my height 5’6, dark skinned, small brown eyes, thick eyebrows and glasses that sit on his round button nose. He wore the common police uniform, rank constable, a light blue and white strip collared two pocket shirt, accustomed with a pocket whistle in his left pocket. His golden buttons shimmering under the sun along with his two sets of numerals, that sat on top of his pockets; his shirt pressed against his thin structure. His shirt was tucked neatly in his dark navy-blue pants, a red stripe on each side of the leg which goes along with his shimmering black parade boots. He waited for us recruits, telling us our room numbers.

“Room 35...upstairs.” He spoke, his voice quiet and soft, barely audible.

“Upstairs?!” I look forward to the entrance, the stairs practically glaring at me.

“Correct, females are upstairs.” His tone remains soft and quiet.

“Can I have assistance?”

He looked at me, puzzled before letting out a breathy chuckled, seemingly amused. “No. Everyman for their selves.”

I sighed and began dragging, struggling, but dragging my stuff upstairs to my room. I panted, trying to catch my breath. I looked around, seeing my other female squadmates, struggling or more, I gratefully look at my stuff, glad that I didn't pack too much. A familiar looking female moved her stuff in front of her dorm room across from mines, room 45. She panted before looking up at me.

“Hi, I'm Johnson.” She smiled, she stood at about 6’0ft, dark smooth skinned, her natural black long hair fastened into a bun, her black and white suit that hugged her shapely curves, large bust, hips and thighs. Sweat drips down her oval face, around her pink lips, thinned eyebrows, and narrowed brown eyes.

“Miller. You know, you look familiar." I smiled back, leaning back against my door frame.

“I do? Where from?”

“I'm not sure, just seem like I know your face from somewhere.” I shrugged.

“Are you excited?”

“I guess...I’ve heard a lot of stories about training and what they do to torture or punished their recruits.” I muttered.

“Same, my brother is a fighter fire and had to go through the same training.” She smiled. “Hey, maybe if we stick together, we’ll help each other get through this.” She suggested.

“Alright, I’m down. Let’s do it.” I watched as she nodded in response before grabbing her stuff and bringing it into her room.

I looked down at my stuff, seemingly had forgotten the need to unpack. I drag my stuff into my room, before stretching my back. I glance up and look around. A queen size bed snug against the light blue walls under a window which looks like it belongs in a school classroom. The ductless air conditioner sat at the left corner, pumping cool air into the room. To the right of my dorm entrance sat the bathroom. A small glass mirror sat over a forest green sink under an orange bulb light. To the right of it sat a small domestic toilet and a shower with a tub, next to it. A medicine cabinet on the left, hidden behind the bathroom door. On the left side of the room, there was a big, domesticated closet, quite dusty but useable.

“Hm, not bad I guess.” I muttered to myself and began unpacking into my new home for the next six months.