He was running, looking back every now and then, falling down, getting up, and running faster. Every breath he took called the next one so fast, he barely breathed enough.
He opened his eyes to find himself in his bed, sweat drew maps on his face, and his bed was shaking in harmony with his trembling body. And then he calmed down, convincing himself that this nightmare will not be a sign of a bad day. It was just a reflection of what he witnessed back then. He closed his eyes, remembering every detail he absorbed. A lot of details, scattered here and there like a field that is barely hosting few bundles of flowers here and there.
On that couch was the gun. On that table was the brief note she left. On that carpet was her blood, coloring the carpet with years of a life that ended on a desperate moment. She wanted her suffering to end, he gave her a hand in that, but she left this world for good, and she will not be able to return the favor. That left him no choice. He must disappear. That note was enough to clear him out in front of everyone, but not himself. He helped her out in this, and he was only helping. He couldn’t deny her an end of suffering.
Picking his scattered pride and fear, he left the room silently and started to walk back home. He must hide his feelings, and act like he never committed her suicide.
Getting out of bed and opening the door to leave his room was to him like abandoning his fortified castle and facing the unknown, but he was embraced with the warmth of his mother’s eyes. That pained him so much. What if something happened and his actions were exposed? How would he meet the disappointment in those loving eyes? No one would ever imagine how hard he wanted to be a child again, to throw his head in his mother’s lap and cry his fear out.
A hard knock on the door moved his heart from its place. He wanted to scream, but the choke of his throat prevented him from pleading his mother not to answer that knock. And it was too late. They came in, running, as if he was a bird that needed to be captured before it flew away. His strength betrayed him, his body was carried by the harsh hands of those guards. Terror overwhelmed his body, prevented him from hosting the pain of being thrown in that iron-fenced vehicle. He stared through the iron bars, and the line that connected his sight to his mother’s started to stretch as the vehicle moved. Only her screams kept his company at first, then it was only the roaring of the vehicle that carried captivity on its back wherever it went. His house kept on growing smaller and smaller until it faded away. That made him alone and surrounded by guardians of fear.
Like an ignorant sheep being taken to slaughter, he was directed through the dark alleys only to sit on a cold iron chair and facing a man wearing a frown that carried all the cruelty of the world. This frown was the crown of two bright eyes that couldn’t be any darker. Those eyes demanded one thing. Only one thing. A confession…