"Raise your arms and sit down on the ground, kid!" the officer barked, his voice amplified by the megaphone.
Arun, his heart pounding like a drum, obeyed. "Sir, please don't kill me!" he pleaded, his voice cracking. "I didn't kill my parents!"
The officer, his face grim, snapped handcuffs on Arun's wrists and shoved him into the back of the patrol car. The ride to the station was a blur of flashing lights and the officer's stony silence.
At the station, Arun was subjected to a grueling interrogation. The questions came rapid-fire, punctuated by the sharp sting of a cane against his skin. He remained silent, enduring the pain, repeating over and over, "I didn't do it, sir. I'm innocent. There's something inside me... controlling my mind..."
The officer finally stopped, his face creased with frustration. "The judge will decide what happens to you," he said coldly.
In the courtroom, Arun stood before the judge, the weight of the accusations pressing down on him.
"Arun," the judge boomed, his voice echoing through the solemn hall, "why did you kill your parents?"
"I didn't, sir!" Arun cried, his voice raw with desperation. "There was something controlling me! I didn't do anything!"
The judge, observing Arun's frantic demeanor and disheveled appearance, leaned back in his chair. "I believe the defendant is mentally unstable," he declared. "Arun, you are found guilty of murder and sentenced to ten years in prison."
"No!" Arun shouted, tears streaming down his face. "I'm innocent!"
He was led out of the courtroom, his hands shackled, the flash of cameras blinding him. Reporters shoved microphones in his face, their questions relentless.
"Why did you kill your parents, Arun?" one reporter shouted.
"I didn't do it!" Arun yelled back, his voice choked with sobs. He tried to hide his face with his hands, but the cameras captured his despair.
The scene shifted abruptly. Arun jolted awake, his heart racing, his body drenched in sweat. "Oh god," he gasped, the echoes of the nightmare clinging to him. "Not again..."
"Wake up, Arun!" a gruff voice said. "It's time to work."
Arun wiped the tears from his eyes. "Those memories..." he murmured, his voice heavy with despair. "They keep coming back."
"Come on," the inmate said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Let's go for a wash. Then it's back to the rock pile."
Just then, Karim appeared, a towel slung over his shoulder. "So, you're awake," he said with a grin. "Good. You've got a busy day ahead of you."
"Yes, brother," Arun replied, grateful for the familiar presence.
Another inmate approached, his head bowed. "Sir," he began hesitantly, "if you need anything..."
"Hey!" Karim interrupted, his voice sharp. "Call me brother. Don't you know the rules of our crew?"
"Yes, brother," the inmate mumbled, scurrying away.
As Arun and Karim joined the line for the showers, they noticed Jacky and the Boss heading their way.
"I'll take Karim," Jacky muttered to the Boss. "You talk to Arun. We need to put our plan in motion."
Jacky approached Karim, a forced smile plastered on his face. He reached out to put a hand on Karim's shoulder, but Karim's icy glare made him quickly withdraw it.
"Can I talk to you in private?" Jacky asked nervously. "It's about something personal."
"No," Karim said flatly. "Speak here. In front of everyone."
Jacky shifted uncomfortably. "Well... it's about my mother... I mean, your stepmother. She called me last night..."
Karim's expression softened slightly. "Alright," he said. "Let's go somewhere private."
As Karim followed Jacky, the Boss sidled up to Arun. He placed a heavy hand on Arun's head. "Did you miss me, kid?" he asked, his voice dripping with malice.
Arun's body trembled. "No, sir," he stammered.
The Boss punched him hard in the stomach. "You didn't miss me?" he snarled.
"I did, sir!" Arun gasped, his voice thin and reedy.
"Listen, kid," the Boss said, leaning closer. "I'm going to give you some advice. Stay away from Karim. Or you'll be getting a lot more of this."
Just then, the voice slithered back into Arun's mind, its tone laced with sadistic glee. Well, well, well... looks like I'm back. And I've got some choices for you. It paused, savoring the moment. Choice number one: punch this bully in the face. Or, choice number two: punch yourself until I'm satisfied.
"Why?" Arun pleaded silently. "Why now?"
Oh, and by the way, the voice continued, choice number two might end with you dead.
Arun felt a surge of anger, a desperate need to defy the voice. "Alright!" he shouted, his voice cracking. "I choose choice number one!" He balled his fist and punched the Boss squarely in the face.