Dissociative Psyche ✦ J. Riley | ✓ [book 2]

5~ Permanent Peace

"Violence as a way of achieving racial justice is both impractical and immoral. I am not unmindful of the fact that violence often brings about momentary results. Nations have frequently won their independence in battle. But in spite of temporary victories, violence never brings permanent peace."

~ Martin Luther King Jr.

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That day, everybody seemed to have taken on a wave of silence. The hallways seemed quieter, the lights dimmer, the usual gentle breeze keeping at bay all across the campus. A shrine had gathered at the front entrance; strewn with photographs, candles, old knick knacks and objects that Freddie loved. Someone had even placed down the head of their school mascot; Jenna smiled when she saw that. Ken had told her the story of how he filled in for the original mascot at a basketball game because he had a family emergency, and by the time he came back, Freddie had practically adopted the role for himself. Everybody loved him as the great Bald Eagle of Emory University.

As she passed into the courtyard, the silence morphed into chants and cheers. There was a crowd posted outside the library, a group of kids were standing on a stage, holding posters and pictures of Freddie, while their leader stood up front, preaching the injustices that had been bestowed.

"How many does it take!?" he shouted, "How many young black boys have to die in the streets? How many mothers and fathers have to mourn their dead children? How many police officers will get to walk because of a white supremacist government?" an audience began to crowd around him, "Stand with me, my brothers and sisters! Let us join together in protest! Let's show these jarheads  that we are not flies you can whack with a swatter. We are not going away! We will not stand down!"

Despite the issues that she agreed with, Jenna couldn't help but feel that now wasn't the right time to protest. Freddie hadn't even been dead twenty-four hours, and people were already exemplifying him. 

She suddenly spotted Ken; standing off to the side and looking miserable as he watched the protest group in action. Jenna walked over, wondering just what he was doing here?

"Hey," she said as she approached, "How's it going?"

"As well as it could," he replied, "I couldn't sleep all night,"

"What're you doing here?" she asked, "Shouldn't you be at home? With your parents?

"The family's over at the house, it's just a lot of noise right now. I needed somewhere quiet," he replied. Jenna looked behind her at the protest going on.

"Probably not the best place for peace and quiet," she said, "Do you want to get out of here?"

"Where?"

"Well, for one thing, you look like you need coffee," 

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They went to the cafe on the other side of the campus, where most of the history majors were busily studying away for their exams and mid-terms. Ken was quiet, staring down at his coffee and barely making eye contact with Jenna.

"I am so sorry, Ken," she said, "I can't imagine what you must be going through,"

"The news isn't sure whether to paint him as an innocent kid or some street thug," he said, "My mom won't stop crying, my dad put his fist through the wall. And everybody keeps coming up to me, saying their sorry, they plant pictures and flowers at the shrine, but you know what nobody has said to me today?"

Jenna shook her head, "What?"

"He was a great kid. Nobody said that to me. Oh, he was funny, he was the life of the party; everybody commented on who they thought he was, they didn't say he was a great kid," he said. Jenna sighed, she reached over and took his hand in hers.