Buried deep

THE FLASH BACK

In the court as a police officer felt a shameful slap on my dreading face , as I walked into the mortuary the last time to see my only family. within the four blocks as the walls shined through the moon light reflection I looked into the eye of the deteriorated well lying dead body , which seemed to have been tortured severely. I was disappointed in myself with the investigation that I had carried out , with the intention of keeping my promise and fulfill it but it seemed as if all my dreams had shattered in a blink of an eye. The body lying ahead of me , had deep cut marks and as I felt in to each of those cuts it reminded me of the dreadful evening.

It was a hot summer evening, with the sun spiking its beautiful sunset rays and all the downtown shops closing down for the weekend. As I walked down the tremendous Alameda street , past the exhausted workers and tourists. I turned on to the abandoned street with no buildings until at the end of the road where a tall proud building with its majestic flaws stood, the building was as high as the sky . the walls of the building pictured a rather old seventy's building, with its bricks painted a welcoming brown color. The doors were as tough as the majestic oak doors and tall bright lamps stood across the entire street and a huge billboard sign indicating , "THE WALL" in bold.

As I entered through the heavy metallic doors into the four walls of the ordinary bar where you would find every drug smuggler , murderer , robbers with their own depressing past sulking in by drinking the usual , "alcohol". I sat down at the cornered table and ordered a whiskey, Drinking and gulping in all of my worries until my head was heavy and not in its senses. I got up drunk and trembled past the wooden chairs all falling in to a clattered mess. As soon as I was out , the cold winter breeze hit my face and entre body sending chills down my spine making all the hair follicles stand up and awakening all of my Goosebumps . I tried to walk sober across the street to my house , with my bursting head I bumped into one of the goons , who bashed me until my inner ribcage broke and I almost died until a good Samaritan saved my life , to whom I owed a promise of living and protecting him and that's where it all started .

The good Samaritan became my only family , in which we shared our views as siblings rather than friends . we lived our happy lives and met once In a while. For which I still remember the dreadful moment , where my only sibling was murdered in front of my bare eyes by cold blooded murderers . I felt a dreadful pinching pain when I had to see my own family go through death. Thinking about it now still sends chills down my cold spine, but I still feel the cold awakening feeling of losing your loved one.

It was a cold Friday night, when my beloved sibling and I decided to meet after almost decades at a local bar. An urging sense of excitement was filled within me, as I got ready into my best clothes. When we met , we shared our last few happy moments before everything was shattered. It was the same hooligans who had beaten me up and that night decided to finish their purpose and get their revenge. Within a few moments the entire bar had turned into an upside down asylum and within a few seconds my beloved sibling's throat was slit with an axe . I couldn't believe my eyes for what I had seen and I dropped on to the ground . I wished the ground would open up and swallow me alive

To sob my heart out , I hid in the gloomy corner of my bedroom and thought about all my happy and sad memories with my beloved Charlie, my beloved brother , may his soul rest in peace. As I thought , I felt like I was the culprit of my own brother's death , but I reminded myself about the goons and decided to investigate and get justice for my beloved brother.

After a week's hard work , the goons were found guilty as they accepted their crimes and previous crimes as well , the goons were then sentenced to death and I found justice for Charlie . although his memories stay deep within my heart.