PRISONERS

Chapter 46

• Chapter 46 •

The drive to the hideout went by slowly. I don't know what's gotten to me, but time seems to be tricking me. I lose sense of time very often after witnessing Bruce’s murder. Every time the memory of Harry stabbing Bruce flashed before my eyes, it immediately connected to the memory of me stabbing Kayn in his house. I thought killing Bruce Coil wasn't anything that could have gotten me in my feelings, since he was a total prick to everyone, how much to his fiancé, but I was wrong.

“How do you do it?” I asked out of the blue, turning to look at Harry, while we were on the road.

“Do what?” he asked, looking at me with a childish curiousity.

“How do you handle the emotions after you kill someone?”

It's not that I haven't had the chance to feel this way myself. After killing my husband to be, the emotional circle I threw myself in was torture. I still remember Cane talking to me, begging for a logical response and me singing my murder song all the time. The real paranoia is not when you take someone's life, it's after.

He shrugged, looking away for a swift moment, lips scrunched in thought. “I just don't care.” he replied slowly before smiling at me. “Why would I care? I kill mother fuckers that do nothing good for us, I actually save citizens from being used or killed for the politicians benefits, which is something like the police. They are supposed to protect the people but I keep seeing violent events against them and most of them are black people, which is quite a surprise,” he added sarcastically at the end. “So fuck the system and the people that made it. I'm shown off as a criminal when in reality I'm doing the community a fucking favor.”

I nodded, understanding his point, but still not completely supporting him. There is still a logical part of me at the back of my mind that holds me back from agreeing fully with him. He is right about the system being fucked from many different ways, but what if we are the problem? What if we can't accept some laws only because we don't want to? What if we put our ego over everyone's good?

“Rocket, would you ever let a policeman free after he killed your mother?” Harry asked casually the bodyguard across from us.

Rocket, who had a bald head with a large HS tattoied on the side of his head and a long beard, thin lips and shades over his eyes replied coldly, “No.”

“But what is the case?” I cut in, looking at Harry with narrowed eyes. “Why did he kill his mother?” I asked hypothetically.

“She was at the market, he thought she stole something and fired.” Harry replied easily with a shrug, “I've seen it happen. Her five year old son was with her.”

I felt my chest tighten at the fact that this crazy thing has actually happened in real life. I looked back at Rocket, who pursed his lips together in an attempt to hold himself back. By the way he fisted his palms and the small tattoo on his neck of the name ‘Angela’, I assumed that the 5 year old boy, was him.

“So would you let him walk as a free man, Rosalia?” Harry rediversed the question.

I shook my head, “No, obviously.”

“Well, the judge called him as innocent and he's having a great life in South California with 4 kids and his third wife.” Harry replied smiling sarcastically. “He gets to raise his kids, but what about that 5 year old boy?”

My heart broke as the thought of a little boy crying above his mother’s corpse appeared in my mind. I looked outside the window with a frown on my face, trying my best not to show the sadness that I felt.