I remember it all. The blood. The lifeless eyes. The fear. I was 17. I was a teen with no balls or muscle. I had no voice so i didn't bother to even stand up for myself let alone the one I was looking out for.
I came home from school, simple day. As always, I was like a ghost. Not many people believed in me or even my existence. Teens keeping occupied with cheap sex, drugs, and quotes to make themselves holier than they appear. Deep down, I was disgusted. They reflected the rest of the shit hole named Dirtroad. They complain and whine without a care of the damage they themselves cause. They cant take a small burn yet set other people ablaze with their invidious actions.
Back then, being a vigilante seemed impossible. I was scrawny, soft spoken, and afraid to open my mouth. All it took was one day.
I came home to a home painted with crimson and decorated with disaster. I saw her clear as day. A dent caved into the temple of her head. Those emerald eyes stared past the ceiling and into the realm of God.
Blood stained her white forehead and her ribs. The blood was absorbed by the caramel colored rug.
I knew who did it. And I roared with rage. At that moment, I earned my voice. And my first word was "enough".
YOU ARE READING
Dead Men Bleed
ActionDirtroad. A colony for scum, killers, and thieves to find sanctuary in. There is no law and order. No justice. No morals. All it took was a bad day for one young man to finally do the thing none other has ever done in this God foresaken city: Seek j...
