Disturbed - Chapter 2 Memories

“I will not be wearing this,” said by my son who suddenly appeared in front of me. I was absorbed in the news that I did not notice him coming. I looked at him, he was holding the checkered knit shirt I bought for him.

“Yes you will. You will look good on it, and I know that your girlfriend will like it.” I replied, smiling sheepishly. “You might also win the home run tonight.” I added.

“No, I will not.” he said as he heads toward his room.

“You will not wear the shirt or you will not gain some score tonight?” I jokingly said.

“Shut up, dad!” my son yelled while he closed his bedroom’s door. I smiled. My boy is now grown up.

I looked at my watch and it reads “6:14”. I have minutes to prepare for my work. I turned off the television and there I was, inside my room again.

While I was buttoning my uniform I heard my son yelling that he will be leaving first.
for visiting.

“Okay, take care at school!” I yelled back. Seconds passed and I heard the main door closes.

My watch reads fifteen minutes past seven o’clock when I heard honking of a car from outside of my house. Since I was already prepared for work, I went outside and there I found a black car waiting outside of our gate. The car window went down and inside I saw my co-police officer.

“Mornin’, bud. Care to join me heading towards the quarter?” he said. He has been my partner for three years ever since his assignment in our station.

“Well, won’t be my loss anyway. I can save up money for not buying gasoline for my car.” I replied. I opened the door and stepped inside his car. He started his engine and we drove quietly.

I was leaning my head on the car window and was looking and admiring the sky when suddenly the person on the steering wheel talked, “Hey, does your head still hurts?” she inquired.

I looked at her and smiled, “No, honey. I feel a lot better now.” She freed her right hand and caressed my face. “I hate it when you are sick,” she said.

“Motherfucking traffic!” said by my police partner as he started honking. There, I found myself back in reality— again, I was daydreaming.

“Calm down, we’re not in a hurry.” I said as I leaned my head on the car window and started looking at the sky.

Minutes passed by and we found ourselves nearing the police quarter where we are working. The station is normally dismal and not that interesting, but today, I guess a lot of people thought otherwise. A flock of people outside the station were rallying. “Bring my son back!” one of the placards read.

“What is this protest all about?” I inquired to my partner.

“They were the families of those who were killed in our operations to eliminate drugs in the area,” he stated.

“Why are they even protesting? Do they not know that their family members are pushers and users? Come on, they will just harm the society.” I blurted out. My partner gave a honked so that a path for us will open from the flock of protesters.

As we drove past them my partner said, “Those people believe that their killed family members were actually innocent and had just fallen to the power tripping of the police,” he said. “Have you noticed the woman with the placard where ‘bring my back son’ is written?” he inquired as we pulled in the garage. “She said that his son has never used drugs but unfortunately they were poor. That was their sin— they are poor thus her son was killed.” He looked at me then he stepped out of the car.

Unable to say anything, I was reminded of a dreadful event.

“Once again, we received an anonymous tip of drug dealing in this area,” said by our captain. He was interrupted when one of my fellow officer came to him and whispered something. “The perimeter is now surrounded. We’ll infiltrate on my signal. You are permitted to engage if someone resists,” he declared. We started moving in.

For few minutes, it was only my breathing that I could hear then suddenly a gunshot echoed. Then another followed. The silent night turned into a night of gunshots and screams. There were footsteps everywhere. There were a lot of people struggling to escape. I ran in the corridor and someone fired a shot at me. I was able to dodge and take cover. I fired back and the person gunning me dropped dead. When I thought that the fight was endless, things started to become quiet. Slowly, the gunshots die and the footsteps fade away.

I already infiltrated the den deeply. From a corner I have sighted a sudden movement. I carefully moved towards it, there I found a teenager girl. She looks ragged but more than her physical guises, she is terrified. When she saw me she screamed and started begging. She asked me to spare her life for she was just a girl who sells cigarettes and candies. She said that when she was passing by the building, a man who had claimed will be buying cigarettes has called for her and she was asked to go inside the building so that she can also sell cigarettes to the companions of the said man. I carefully looked at her inspecting, tears started flowing down her cheeks. She looks pitiful; nonetheless, her made up story was so lame. I pointed my gun at her and then I fired it, I put a bullet in her head. Her body dropped to the ground.

“Is your area cleared?” said by the voice in my transceiver.

“Yes, captain all cleared,” I said while I was looking at dead body of the girl with her blood spilling to the scattered candies and cigarette sticks.