Corrupt

Chapter 2 - Public Arrest

Authors note: This is all the work of my imagination, and is not the work of any other author. - Lauren

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I am abruptly awoken from my blissful state by the heavy thud thud thud of boots trampling the streets below. This is not a foreign sound to me, and its not often it happens either but I'm sure no matter how many times it happens, i will never be used to it. Peeling back my sheets, I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and sit up suddenly. The show is about to start. Shoving my feet into my fluffy pink slippers, i stumble my way over to the window, eyes still hazy from sleep.

Outside on the street i see a gang of three soldiers tackling a not so well groomed old man to his knees. My heart races and my chest begins to seize up, begging for more air. Other people start to come to their windows too, wrapped in blankets and dressing gowns they stare into the street below, shivering in the chilly winter morning. I didn't check the time before i got up, but by the shadow of the sun on the near building across the road i know we should all still be in bed.

Looking back down at the street a flash of red catches my eye and i suck in a large breath. The man is finally pinned down on his knees with his back straight, and his head is being pulled back by one of the soldiers. The shock of seeing his face almost causes me to vomit out of the window. Red blood stains his once grey business suit, and soaks his dark, curly hair. I don't notice anything else about the man because, horrifically, it is his face that i cannot remove my eyes from. Dirt and blood begin to crust in the deep lines of his face, and a chuck of lip is missing from his mouth. With his head pulled back, his eyes stretch open wide looking up at the sky above him, and dart every now and then from house to house. He see's me looking down at him and our eyes lock in place. I've made eye contact with many people, but this feels like a completely different than any other time. Instead of seeing the pleasurable look most people have in their eyes, his is filled with anguish and disgust. Bile continues to rise in my throat but i can't let go of this mans gaze. Its like a pleading of no other. But i know he has done wrong, and i must leave him. We must leave him. Everyone on the street must leave and go about their day and not mention the man until he is mentioned to us. His eyes now bulge out of his head giving him an even more deranged look, and i know it cannot stand anymore.

Ripping my body away from the window i run out of my bedroom, tripping over miscellaneous items, and loosing my slippers on the way. I rush through the hall, trying to strip my mind of the thought of the old man on his knees in the street being wrestled by soldiers. After what feels like thousands of hours of running, I make it to the bathroom and slam the door shut. Collapsing onto the cool tiled floor, i haul myself to the toilet where i throw up, and shortly after, blank out.