The Oppressed

Part 2

Winter. After three and a half years of therapy, it was John's idea to go on a small expedition. We went to a place I used to go when I was a child, and I would use this to continue to release my conscience.

The white fields were full of reminiscences of the times me and my two brothers used to go out. My breath rose in visible puffs. It was as though someone had replaced the dark cinders of innocent lives with white grains of purity. I was at peace.

I should confess. Confess to the police, to my mum, and brother. Confess and be free.

I turned to my right; my therapist's spoken words turned a blur, and my conscience (for some reason), became scared. I'm in a field with a man, who knows my mortifying secrets, why is he not scared of me? Does he have that much faith in me? Or has he brought someone who is now hiding behind the distant trees? Maybe we're not alone. Maybe this is a trap. Maybe this is the end.

With not a moment to lose, I began running away from him. Fear gripped me like an intoxicated ghost haunting its oppressor. The branches swayed seductively as the darkness beckoned. An owl hooted in the distance, but I didn't stir. The morose mood of the night immersed me, enslaved me, and soon I heard him running after me too. What was happening?

"Wait!" John shouted. Yet the devil in my head devoured me, and I continued to run rapidly.

I darted past the trees, and before I knew it, a man cuffed my body, choking me to the ground. His hands loosened, and I hurriedly arose to my feet. His eyes deepened, and my eyes widened for the man standing before me was my older brother. He knew.

Footsteps rapidly rushed to our direction as John had caught up. The three of us panting, staring at one another, our foreheads dripping with sticky, cold sweat, and panic. My eyes, and John's stared at Ash's hands. It held a gun.

"I finally know who killed my brother; you've been protecting him all this time." Ash spoke in vengeance as his hands adjusted to a degree. My head turned instantly as I realised his mistake. I screamed ferociously, while running to stop him, but his finger curled around the trigger. Within a second, the bullet rotated out of the barrel of the gun.

Bang!

John's head exploded, his blood sprinkling everywhere like confetti; his body slowly rocked back and forth before hitting the ground. My head turned to Ash in horror, distraught of the obvious mistake of identity he had made between me and John. How wrong he was...

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