Outside the dangerous streets, soft dark curly brown hair flows in the moonlight mixed with street lamps which seem to illuminate strong stern features. Thick denim jacket with the bright glimmer of silver hidden inside. A shade of crystal clear gre...
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Someone's life has ended as the room flew around in a blur. The darkness of the Eradication being too much for everyones sanity. My heart aches at the thought of someone's life discontinuing right before countless of eyes, no sound of a struggle, just the thump of a body. It's impossible to see any light during this extended 'celebration', the sunlight wasn't enough to lighten up the streets during the daytime. Clouds cover the only source of what could be considered the happiness and the one thing to shed light on this time.
Everyone's screams and yells filter into my ears eventually. The cramped room engulfs with shouts and accusing fingers poking holes into the dense air. Demands about who it was that tumbled down and met the top soil. Now they'll be six foot under boots who morn the loss of a loved one. Friend, family or foe. Love is still there, received from the dead or alive. Only when this Eradication is over.
Shoves and punches break out as my eyes couldn't take away the gruesome sight of blood now pouring from wounds. It was a battlefield painted in red. The effect of losing someone close in his horde of eradicators shows the behaviour that tumbles out. There is no right or wrong way to deal with witnessing a death or grieving one.
Someone has sadly fallen down into the abyss of despair, turning those around them into rabid animals before my blurry eyes. All the negatives outweighing the positives which sit on heavy shoulders. All that weight would certainly crumble down anyone. All they need is love and support. How could you receive help in this 'celebration'? It certainly wasn't a celebration of life but rather death.
Physically yanking me out of my thoughts a tight grip latches onto my wrist pulling me backwards away from the commotion. Stumbling, the tears don't flood as I grieve for the unknown. A crack sounds as I whip my head alarmingly in the direction. A punch to the dusty wall has drywall crumbling down along with flaking cream paint.
The door slams shut shaking the walls as all I'm met with is the sight of brown wood. Standing behind the barrier between me and the countless fights in the room. The chaos now is muffled behind walls. Air leaves my constricted lungs burning from forcing the tears at bay.
"Elora," a soft voice calls, "please, look at me."
Peering up numbly at green eyes and brown curls I frown my lip trembling. The one question I need answered at this point in time spills out of my mouth.
"Who was it Harry?"
"I don't know... we're not sure how this all happened," he sighs pushing his hand through his tangled mop of curls.
