Concealed Power

Chapter 2

02/09/2085

The bright morning light streamed through my window, gently nudging me awake. It was the weekend, so I didn't rush to get up. I let myself sink back into the comfort of my bed, savoring the extra time I could spend in bed. I let myself fall sleep again.

A sudden, frantic scream could be heard from outside.

"No, please, no! I have kids! They need me! Please, you can't do this to me!"

My heart pounded as I jolted out of bed, my mind still felt foggy as I had just woken up but I panicked at the sudden noise. I rushed to the window, my breath catching in my throat when I saw my neighbor being dragged away by two policemen. Her once calm face was now a mask of pure terror, eyes wide and mouth open in a silent scream as she fought to cling to the porch railing. Her knuckles were white as she gripped the wood, but the officers wrenched her away with cold, mechanical expressions.

The struggle was violent. Her screams grew more desperate as she was thrown against the concrete, blood staining the fabric of her clothes and splattering onto the ground. The officers showed no mercy as they twisted her arms behind her back, securing them with handcuffs. A dark streak of blood trailed from her lip, mingling with the dust on the pavement.

I recognized her children—Mike and Rachel—standing at the entrance of the house. Mike, a junior, was a couple of years older than me, while Rachel and I were both in seventh grade. Though we'd never spoken, I'd seen them around. But now, their faces were a haunting void, their eyes hollow and unseeing as if the woman being dragged from them was a stranger.

The scene was surreal, like something out of a nightmare. The officers' grim faces were illuminated by the morning sun, reflecting their indifference to the woman they were practically dragging by the hair which her children watching. They exchanged a few terse words with the woman before shoving her into the back of the police car, her cries for her children echoing in the empty street. The car door slammed shut with a finality that sent a chill down my spine, and the vehicle sped off, leaving behind a cloud of dust and unanswered questions.

As the shock of what I'd witnessed began to settle in, I noticed a growing crowd of neighbors gathering outside, their murmurs a mix of confusion and fear. The whole situation was bizarre and had self me on edge and clearly, it had made the neighborhood feel uneasy as well.

Trying to shake off the unease, I turned away from the window and headed to the bathroom to start my morning routine. My reflection in the mirror looked as unsettled as I felt. I splashed cold water on my face, hoping to clear my mind, but the image of my neighbor's pleading face and the bloodied ground lingered.

Downstairs, I decided to distract myself by making breakfast. It was Saturday, after all, and I wanted to treat myself to something special. Muffins sounded perfect, so I gathered the ingredients and put on some music, letting the familiar rhythm of baking soothe my nerves. My dad always worried about me using the stove and oven, even though I'd been baking with him since I was five. At twelve, I knew my way around the kitchen better than most kids my age.

As the muffins baked, the sweet aroma filled the kitchen, offering a brief moment of comfort. But just as I was taking them out of the oven, the ground beneath me started to tremble. The trembling quickly escalated into a violent shaking, and panic gripped me. I barely had time to think as I ran to the doorway leading to the living room, bracing myself against the frame.

"Please, let Dad be okay," I whispered, my voice trembling as the earthquake intensified. The world around me seemed to blur, the force of the quake making me feel dizzy. A vase that my mom had made a few years ago crashed to the floor, shattering into countless pieces right beside me.