He checked his pistol, two bullets left. He continued ahead, in a daze. He didn't know where he was going, what he was running from; just that he had to run. The trees and the walls and the buildings all merged into each other, each with their features accentuated.
Run!
Looking behind to see an empty road, he let a sigh of relief. With the sound of approaching footsteps, he quickly hid behind a small wall.
It's not been long. I know what I am doing. I know why I am doing it. I know it. In some part of my consciousness, I can feel it. It's like a bug in my ear. It's so painful, I can't get it out. Run!
He peeked through one of the cracks in the wall. A pair of feet. Black pants, black shoes.
This is it!
Stealthily, he aimed at the person approaching and pulled the trigger. He waited to see the face of the person he'd just shot. The one mistake. Gloating.
Before the person slumped to the ground, he heard the shuffling of feet from behind him.
"Put your hands up in the air! NOW!"
He turned around in an arc, with his outstretched gun, but it was knocked over by the man.
"You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do may be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to consult an attorney before speaking to the police and to have an attorney present during questioning now or in the future"
He looked up to see the officer. But he couldn't make out his face. His face seemed an ugly mash of eyes blending with each other only separated by a nose which amalgamated with his mouth. He laughed, hysterically.
Promise me, you'll not leave me.
Promise me, you'll not leave me.
The words still got to him. They came and went like tornadoes. Calm before they came, but they left him screaming and screeching, pulling his hair and skin, pulling his ears till they bled. But the voice would remain.
It's like a bug in my ear. It's so painful, I can't get it out. Run!
The guards would have to come in and hold him down. He acquired super human strength at those times. The strength of a mad man. The strength of a schizophrenic. Afterwards, he would laugh hysterically for hours and hours. He was the devil.
The four walls gave way to even smaller four walls where there was only space for a bed and a latrine. More solitude, more attacks.
The past was like a distant memory to him, just like it is to most people. The pain of the past had diluted to such an extent that he could not remember his vengeance.
Time is a cruel concept. It takes away pain, but it also takes away purpose. It's funny how the people who mattered to you so much, the people who you would die for, the people who you would kill for, become inconsequential over time. Time takes away our best memories and also the worst. But sometimes, the worst memories are the one you want to hold on to. Because those are the ones which give you strength. Because sometimes, you act on those memories and as time passes by, those actions seem futile and the purpose of life fades away.
Promise me, you'll not leave me.
It has started. My boy. My sweet little boy. So young and innocent. Has eyes just like me. Big and brown and full of life. The way those eyes light up when we are on the swings in the park. His laugh. So carefree. We're returning back from the park. It's just a moment. Oh the dreaded moment. I wait on the sidewalk, turning around to get him his ice cream. I hear a big screech of the tires and a small thud. The world spins around. I know it's my boy. Those big brown eyes. They're full of blood.
Please don't leave me.
I can't take it. I need to get these things out of my head. I hate myself. I want to get out of my skin!
The doctors say he's dead on arrival. Something burns. It burns a hole inside my heart. I will avenge him. I'm facing the owner of the car. There's a gun in my hand. He's pleading for mercy. My boy's big brown eyes, no more life in them. Full of blood. I kill him.
I face the ice cream guy. He's pleading for mercy too. I hear the screeching of the tires. The thud. I cover my ears in pain but it's still there. I kill him too.
Six months on the run, and the pain has receded. The purpose has dissolved. The memories are gone as quick as salt in water. They only come in bursts. Not the memory of my boy dying. The memory of those two people I killed. The memory of me not burying my child and having one last conversation with him. Making my peace with him.
My ears! I can't take this. I want to pull it out. Pull out my ears. Pull out my memories. My memories which could have been of happy times with my boy. But they're just of those big brown eyes full of blood. They're of the screeching of the tires and the thud. They're of two innocent people begging for mercy.
RUN!
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