Fugitive (ON HOLD)

Prologue

I watch, in complete shock as they drag him out of the bathroom where he had left to hide. We all knew sooner or later he'd be arrested but we didn't think it'd be so soon. Sixteen years old and already a criminal. It's heart breaking.

I see him struggle and thrash against the firm hold of the policemen. His efforts get wilder as he gets closer and closer to the police car. "I didn't do anything, dammit!" He cries out and I hear the anger in his voice. His white-blond hair and pale face glint with the flashing lights of red and blue.

A crowd has formed now and I watch on, too stunned to even blink. He soon gives up, his shoulders slumping as he accepts his fate, standing by the car and holding out his arms, wrists faced up. I hold my breath as time stops. He's the one everyone looks up to, everyone respects. Now though, he's not the one calling the shots, which makes him weak.

He keeps his head down to the fresh spring grass. I can't see his eyes because it's so dark outside except for the lights coming off the police car and the lights of the house behind me because, in spite of everyone being outside, there's a party going on. One policeman takes out a pair of handcuffs, cuffing his wrists, a serious expression on his worn out face. "Michael Clifford, you are under arrest for illegal use of drugs and stolen money."