There is a faint ambiance of the other classmates echo outside a dirty spider web filled window. There are still a couple of minutes to lie in bed, before clothes have to be dug from the closet. The alarm clock now rings, but it hasn't been needed for months now. Victor, still picking protein from his eyes, intent to have his neck point upwards at the ceiling... His body instinctively and gradually wakes itself up in time for school. He had thought this type of mental function wouldn't spurt out of him till he was much older. "It's real annoying....Everything is annoying. I just want to lie in bed and stay in my room all day. Just to be left alone," he thought. Minutes pass, and the teenager reluctantly puts on a white polo with brown cargo shorts. He heads down the stairs where a navy blue backpack filled with week old papers and gum wrappers lies. Evading it for the time being, he darts into the kitchen, stains here and there on the surface of the island and the cabinets. To the right, an old coffee machine that no longer works, his older brother used to intake on his early bird flights for his manufacturing job out of state. He's no longer around, settled down with a family of his own. He reaches for the cabinet over the sink, looking for some Tylenol, that will be in need later on during the day. Picking up the container, and hard to see, the weight is light. Not much left to use. Sighing heavily, it's the last available, and it's not enough to cover for the day.
"Oh well, I'll have to drown out most of the nonsense today on a miracles whim. Lucky me."
He grabs the bottle and throws it into the school bag, quickly grabs it, and out the door for another great day of school. Most mornings, the walk to school is lonesome, more time to think. It's an approximate 10-15 minutes away from the school, and the only time he'd really have to stop along the way is by the crosswalk by the church. The community around the neighborhood are all big religious nuts, always protesters in front of their church post, hacking away with another group who have a different stance.
"Haven't been to church since I was little- once you know the stories, it's all you really need. The messages of Christ, peace, love and understanding-"
Echoes of screams then blare in Victor's ears from the past, as images from many people blare into his consciousness.
{Flashback}
A big elderly woman is consoling an African American mother as she screams out in terror as a casket is brought out in front of her.
Images of multiple caskets being carried out of the church by 6 men in black and sunglasses as they slowly tread down the steps. The sounds of pain and anguish mellow out into the background.
A reverend speaks out to a crowd, "Lest these souls taken so from our arms, now carry into the bosom of the Lord, Jesus Christ."
The eyes in Victor's mind zoom up to the caricature of Jesus in the church. Victor's heartbeat is heard increasing in intensity. It was an anxiety attack coming on. The street light now flashed for passing by.
Victor entered the school gates and quickly made his way into the giant building. As he made his way in, sweat secreted from his hands as anxiety crept into his body like a virus. He had always felt like everyone had their eyes on him, waiting for him to make a move, speak up, get a reaction out of; some of that may be true. He walked over to his locker, where a group of others were conversing, getting ready for class. Their conversation seemed to soft as soon as he opened the locker for his school materials.
"I kind of wanted to stare at them and ask what the deal was, but I wasn't in the mood to start something"
Victor walked away to go use the restroom and wash his hands, when one of the students near his locker yelled out to him
"Hey Victor, right? You forgot to close your locker."
He peered his eyes back, and the locker was left open.He still had the lock in his hand, nerves getting the best of him. He walked back, eyes blank, and attempted to lock it, when the dude quickly slammed the locker on his hand inside. He let out a quick yelp and made a glare at the built blonde haired boy who had made a joke out of it.
"Go on, do something about it, your own damn fault anyways, " he replied, trying to get a reaction out of him. Victor turned his back and head towards the bathroom.
"C'mon Joss, why'd you have to do that to that kid?" a nearby girl asked.
"I'll do whatever I want to the kid. It's what he deserves after all"
In the bathroom, Victor washed his face, trying to relax. Looking into the mirror, he could only recall the miserable lifestyle he'd been leading. Flashes in his mind of faint memories of when he used to be happy. Most of the memories where he smiled a lot were when he was younger, but as an adolescent, it's been nothing of value.
He exited the bathroom, and made his way to homeroom. Inside, the class was quiet, waiting for homeroom teacher to give out the morning address. Victor was the last one to enter. The seat was on the far right, 3rd set from the front. He sat down, put the bag on the floor, and at a glance realized, someone had vandalized his desk...again. It's so habitual, that every week, a custodian cleans it at the end of the week. This time around, a direct threat, scribbled in marker, "Kill yourself" was facing Victor's eyes. He stared at the message and peered around to other classmates, and no one was paying attention to his glances. Clearly, it could have been anyone. The font was so purposefully manufactured and stenciled; whoever did it thought ahead , so they wouldn't be apprehended or caught.
"I could bring it to the teacher's attention, but no one would squeal", he thought. It's high school code, you do that, you get cast as a 'puss', it's not something you want to be remembered for in your 4 years of this place". Everyone remembers. Regular high school hierarchy is bad enough, but in this city, even outside of school, word catches on quick, and your reputation is about as good as the different clothes you wear to school.
-------
A police cruiser pulls into the parking lot of the local hospital. Two cops and an apprehended suspect, bleeding from the leg exit the vehicle, with screams emitting from the victim.
"Alright, alright, bud, take it easy, you're going to live....unfortunately", said the male cop.
"This wouldn't have happened, if you hadn't lost your temper, sir," replied the female cop as she helped the convict into the hospital."
"This fucking hurts, I was going to submit man, I swear," muttered the convict pleading to the female cop.
"Don't pull that shit on me, I saw your glock hiding in your back pants pocket; the first chance you got, you were either going to make a run for it, or shoot me or my partner," retorted the male officer.
The man scoffed in pain, but in chuckle trying to hide his intentions, "W-What?" N-no, it's not even my gun man, you've got the wrong idea."
"Well, we got you on counts of drug possession and an unlicensed firearm, so you're being arraigned for something, pal."
The two cops handed the man over to the hospital staff, their shifts now over, ready to start their commenced civilian life.
Kay L'evleah is a new recruit age 20, 5'6, 120 lbs brunette who has recently graduated from police academy. She serves as a cadet and partner to veteran officer, Lyle Desrosias age 23, a decorated man in blue who currently has the most booked suspects and has tried to keep a city safe rising with criminal threats.
"Bout damn time, alright, well that's our day, how was that for week 1 of your hands on debut?" replied Lyle.
Kay retorted with snark as Lyle made his way toward the exit, " Impressive, but as to be expected, from someone of your caliber. It's not as bad as the instructors told me it would be."
They exited the building, walking down the stairs.
"That's how I handle most cases, in this city, we can bend our "civil" moral codes to get results.
They paused. "You should be jotting that down somewhere; this is important advice you'll have to follow when you're in charge one day."
" Well hopefully, by the time I'm in charge, the province will be cleaned up enough, I won't have to resort to measures that require brutal take downs and calling my suspects, " shit stained demon spawn?" Really?"
They both enter the car, ready to head back to the station for the day.
"We're entitled to our own creative opinions of addicts and felons, right?"
She smiled at him, putting her seat belt on, "Haha, yeah I suppose so."
The police car exited out of the parking lot, their station about 2 miles down the road.
Kay peered out the window, observing her surroundings. Lyle peered over, trying to start a conversation.
"You trans-located from District 32 about a month ago, right? That place any different from here?"
"Everyone was happier with their jobs for one. Officers hung out with kids, playing street hockey and basketball, and bought food and home supplies for the ones who couldn't afford it. Total drastic difference here."
"Yeah..", "Lyle said without emotion as he turned on a red light."
"And what, you've lived here, your entire life, right?, Kay responded back.
"Did you need a case file to pick that up?" Lyle smugly replied.
"Just a guess, you seem to have a strong connection with this community."
An awkward pause is shared between the two, as Lyle gives a quick look in observance.
"Hmph, if that's what you call it."
The two continue their car ride, and they finally arrive at the station, where a couple other cruisers, carrying suspects enter the lot, ready to have the convicts registered for processing. They exit the cruiser, staring down the other officers bringing in their respective catches of the day.
"Everyone seems to have made a catch today, is activity this often a normal thing around these parts?" inquired Kay.
"Today is different", Lyle stated not facing her, heading in the direction of an officer taking one in.
"Lopez, how was it out on Aero, Matthews, and Weeser Road? I heard a lot of activity on the radio today."
Officer Geraldo Lopez, a more seasoned man in blue, who is Lyle's senior, a man of mestizo descent, tall, black mustache, inscribed police insignia tattoo on his right shoulder, approached his attention, while his partner took in the convict in the background.
He scoffed, "Desrosias! Always in the know for what's going in parts you don't cover.
"Just answer the damn question, will ya?"
Lopez paused for a second and gave a look to Lyle. "Well, if you have to know, you'll have to read the report I'm submitting.
"Tch, ridiculous," muttered Lyle.
"But if you want a short answer to get that ego under check, yeah, something's brewing out there, no doubt about it."
"You've noticed the spike then in neighborhood gatherings, and sales at nearby pawn shops", said Lyle.
"Moreorless. Whether these sales are legitimate or not, it's sure a warning sign that tensions are running high in low income communities, said Lopez.
"Or some of us have painted targets on our backs", joked Lyle.
"We come into work each day with that expectation, but if anyone's got the biggest one, it's you."
Lopez walked away after his partner into the station, "See ya around Deputy."
"Right…."
Kay, stood at the door of the cruiser, waiting on her superior to finish his business.
"Hey Deputy, you mind giving me the walk in to the front office?"
Lyle followed Kay into the reception area of the dispatch office. Phones rang off like crazy, even at the end of their midafternoon shift. They passed off the secretary, who was waiting for their daily logs.
"Heather, we had about 13 logs today. Our latest apprehended had an unlicensed firearm possession and he had a couple of grams of cocaine on him, should already have a file in the system for him under a Geraldo Hernandez, if I'm not mistaken", Lyle proclaimed to the corrections officer taking note of the news.
"Yeah, we got him checked at the hospital from the onsite team. Just sign off on the paperwork on the desk over there, and you guys can clock out for the day." Another team will finish off the last part of their incoming apprehension", said the corrections officer.
"Thank you!", uttered Kay.
Lyle and Kay both head to the changing rooms, to change back into their civilian clothing. As soon as they finished changing, they met once again at the entrance.
"Do you need a ride back to your place?" asked Lyle.
"Thanks for the offer, but I'm going to take a jog home. "
"You just worked a full shift, and the first thing you're going to do is jog. Kay made a look at Lyle inferring he was trying to make up for something. "Hey, I'm just saying, the grind is tough , there's no slack for us, I mean that."
Kay sported traditional jogging attire, short shorts, running shoes, and a light blue sports bra. Kay propped up her hair with a scrunchie she had on her person.
"I'm going to be fine. This'll help reduce the stress this place puts off. You on the other hand, should find an extra-curricular activity of your own to ward off your own demons. Girls don't like shaggy men."
"Huh?" Lyle looked in confusion.
Kay sighed, "Whatever. Do whatever, you're my superior anyways."
She exited the building, starting her stride down the street.
"Remember 6am sharp Monday, be ready!", Lyle yelled at her.
"Will do, sir. Peaace!"
Lyle turned his back, as he head towards his grey 2006 Lexus ES in the parking lot. He muttered, "She really shouldn't be out by herself like this." A thought ran across his mind to tail her, to make sure nothing happened to her. On the other hand, he didn't want to undermine her strong determination to do as she pleases. He looked at the time display as it read in his car. He looked in his rearview mirror, as he saw the last of her image vanish from view behind a street corner.
"Maybe, I'll jump on a treadmill when I get home", as he turned the ignition on his car and drove away, making up his mind to relax."
--------
The day went as it had been expected to. Isolation. Ridicule. Embarrassment. The final bell rang for the day and it brought jubilation to know the day was over. Victor's head felt like it was going to implode. He'd been pushed around all day, got his lunch money suckered out of him, albeit blackmailed, and had false rumors spread around he was homosexual, threatening other people, and taking blame for other people's actions. On paper, it doesn't sound so bad, but it's energy consuming thinking about every second. Victor grabbed the books he needed for homework from his locker, and locked it immediately, and sped out the exit, to walk home. The expectation was to get home as fast as possible, but due to his fatigue, he took it easy and watched my steps on the asphalt. The time was 2:43 and the day was still young. As he was walking by, he saw a jogger on the opposite side of the street, stopping to drink some water. She looked like she was maybe in college. She was a vibrant site to look at, her body glowed in sweat in the sunshine that peered over her. Her eyes caught glance with his, and Victors eyes quickly turned away to avoid any embarrassment. He continued on his way, but he made one quick look behind to make sure she had left, and she had.
.As an infectious good feeling ran over Victor seeing an attractive woman, he heard a loud scream in the background, coming from the direction of that runner. The scream matched the type of voice the woman would have. That temporary brightness and warmth quickly turned to an ugly shade of disdain that was so familiar in my chest. His knees buckled in shock instantaneously, and breathing slowed and his heartbeat could be felt from any part of his body. Instead of running faster home, his legs went into the opposite direction to see if the woman was alright. Victor ran and saw a small glimpse of the runner he had seen, and sighed a breath of relief, but upon further inspection, she seemed to be glaring at something on the street, where we were parallel to the sidewalk. As Victor peeked closer, she got down on her knees, and started crying, he fingers pressed against her mouth. Intrigue grew more with each heartbeat, even knowing there was no immediate danger. Victor closed in more, and it was immediate regret that peered into his being . A gigantic puddle of blood lay near the woman, where a child, no older than 5 laid dormant in the center lifeless. The legs lay disproportionate from the main body, and the lifeless expression rang true terror.
She broke down screaming, "What the hell is this?!."
Victor's body entered temporary paralysis. It was similar with 2 years prior. That same deep pit in the center of your stomach that rises to the surface that yields an insanity response.. This kid died instantly upon impact. He was a kid, his whole life was snatched away. The woman's tears subsided and made a call on her cellphone,
"Dispatch, this is "L'evleah, badge # 4982 off duty, uh Lynard Ave off Yaz, 1 civilian child is down, requesting emergency ambulance and first responders over"
Before the woman had a chance to get a second glance at Victor, his legs reversed and booked it in the opposite direction. He was running like someone was running after him in a mad chase.. The pain was eating at him. This had broken his sense of reason. He reached his front door after the sprint and closed the door behind him strongly with force.. His lungs were on fire, but it didn't matter. He jotted up the stairs, ran into his room, and stared at how pitiful he looked, and punched the dresser mirror in utter frustration and aggravation. His thoughts reminded him that he was acting immaturely, that he was weak, that he hated himself out of anyone he'd known. He rummaged through all the belongings in vicinity ; everything a sore to what lifestyle he had been leading. Unbridled rage took papers to the floor, his desk was toppled over and his bed sheets thrown. He sat down on the floor, blankly staring into space. His mind was a jumble. He turned near his bed, and unbeknownst to his knowledge, a small chest the size of a computer monitor lay there opened. A curiousness came over him, as he had never seen this chest before. Where did it come from?. Inside was a glowing golden revolver, with minor scuff marks with the notation of C42. It was a first quality gun that had somehow made its way into Victor's possession. He slowly inspected the gun, his fleeting thoughts of life draining out of him.
He thought, "what if I did--just now--end my suffering."
He pulled the hammer of the gun and felt it cock into place. He placed it against his temple, as streams of fear and happiness departed his eyelids.
"Everything my life stands for, what has it brought me, he whimpered,". If I have to go, then I will.
"I'll go! - I'll go! - I'll go!"
The action of pulling the trigger did not resonate with Victor There was no ring of the bullet pullback. It was just black, but there was also a sense of being. Victor looked down as if he had his hands out, but there was nothing there. He then tried to focus on seeing his nose in front of him; again nothing. But he had a sense of self. There was no pain, no suffering. It was the feeling he was looking for.
A voice rang out in a muffled tone. It was his own, but again all blackness. He couldn't make it out what was being said.
"Where am I?", that's what was being said.
In the real world, Victor's body stood upright, revolver in hand, staring straight blanked. as if nothing had happened.
"Where am I?", Victor said in the physical realm.
He looked down at his arm, and it was goosebumps, followed by a chill. He took a step and picked up a shard of glass from the mirror that had been broken. Just staring at eyes. These unfamiliar eyes.