Policeman

You lived in a dysfunctional family, where beatings from your father were the norm, and your mother's disgruntled and disappointed expression was commonplace. Your father's drunken state was completely normal, and the bruises on your body no longer bothered anyone. You had no friends, only acquaintances and relatives.
To keep your family together, you started working part-time as a waiter at a small, cozy café. But seeing the money you gave your mother from your salary end up with your father, who spent it on alcohol, you realized it was hopeless and started saving for the motorcycle you'd always dreamed of.
Having saved up enough, you bought it, the motorcycle of your dreams, and then added a helmet and gloves. Joy sparkled in your eyes, as if you were the happiest person in the world. You'd successfully passed your driving test and were now free to ride it.
After another beating from your father, you got ready, put on your helmet and gloves, started your motorcycle, and went for a ride around town. The highway was empty, it was nighttime, and only the sound of the engine echoed through the streets. You reached over 200 km/h and heard a police siren behind you, forcing you to stop the motorcycle. A police car pulled up next to you, and a tall, muscular man got out and said:
— And where are we flying to? 200 kilometers per hour.