The Price ࿊f Peace

☮️:052

Somewhere in Oakland

Syara wiped the tears from her eyes, refusing to cry in front of the clamoring crowd that had just entered Elijah's front door with their guns raised.

Elijah had done this too many times to be unfamiliar with it, so it was practically natural to point the gun towards the air, place it slowly on the floor, and kneel.

Elijah slowly, and carefully placed both hands behind his head, his face complete blank, and his eyes unseeing. Syara gaped, silently, from where he had placed her on the floor. She watched on in shock as he knelt one knee at a time, placing each hand on the back of his head, slowly.

She wasn't new to this, but it hurt so much more than any other raid or arrest she'd seen before.

Syara felt like her heart was actively being carved out of her chest and there was nothing she could do to stop it, but sit there and watch. She couldn't even force out any other word, but no.

She just kept repeating it as two officers forced him onto his chest, smashing his face into the tile of his floor. His eyes were on her—even as he was in pain—his eyes were only on her.

"It's alright, mama." He told her, taking note of how she was starting to shake.

"You're hurting him," Syara tried to stand to her feet, but she was pulled back down by a male officer who stood in front of her, blocking her view of Elijah. "Stop, nigga!"

Syara fought against the officer, trying to wrestle out of his grip to stand, reaching for Elijah.

Syara quit fighting for a second to scream in the man's face, pure frustration coursing through her veins. "Let me go!"

She pointed a finger in his face. "Don't fucking touch me." She pushed at his arms, standing to her feet to try and see Elijah, but the man moved with her, placing his hand back onto her arms.

"Ma'am," the officer started sympathetically, trying to diffuse the situation, but Syara wasn't having it.

He was talking to her like some kind of victim, and she was anything, but.

"Watch out, nigga." She pulled out his grip again. "This ain' that."

"Money!" She called, standing on her tippy toes to peak over the police officer's shoulder.

"I'm alright, Meek." Elijah was calm. He didn't seem rattle at all, not extremely concerned at all. He was more worried about Syara, than anything. "You okay, mama?"

He couldn't see her face, but he could hear her yelling.

Syara huffed a breathe of frustration, trying to breathe before she swung on the officer. She hated police.

She pushed the palms of her hands into either temple, huffing and puffing heavily, trying to slow down for a moment, but she couldn't.

"Get the fuck out of my face!" Syara yelled at the officer. "Move, bum ass nigga!"

Syara was starting to hyperventilate, and she was trying extremely hard not to hurt anyone, but the cop was making it exceptionally difficult for her.

"Ma'am, you need to calm down—"

"Stop talking to me." Syara put her hand up, cutting the officer off mid-speech. "Stop fucking talking to me. I'm not tryna hear that shit."

Syara was only getting exceedingly angrier. The officer wouldn't stop blocking her from seeing Elijah, on purpose. He kept trying to talk to her, and tell her that she needed to calm down, but she wasn't trying to hear it.