Fractured

Part one 3

Sometimes it's the quiet observer
who sees the most
-Kathryn Nelson

Her back moved in a rhythm of deep breaths.
She was asleep in the waiting cell, her head in between her knees. Her hair was a black mess out of its original band,. Even on the floor you could tell she was small, fragile even. Earlier when she had been awake her eyes were a lightened brown with no life. She was just existing with no hope, an empty shell that was waiting to be filled.

I opened the cell for the boy to join her there. The hoodie was off , his hair in a ruffled mess hiding his eyes. My guess was they were a striking blue just like his mother's . He looked nothing like her. It was only in his eyes one saw the resemblance. I would never had pegged him to get involved in a fight. Maybe he was full of hurt and blinded by rage with no sense of direction. He was a ball of fury.

When he entered I shut the door behind him and left to resume my duties. The two families were two of the most powerful in the community. They would no doubt create a circus in a few minutes when they came for their respective children. A show down. I needed popcorn for the movie that was about to be shown.