Disturbed - Chapter 4 That Evening

While I was waiting for my partner to step inside the police car, my phone suddenly vibrated. When I opened it, I have received a chat from my son. It was a picture of him and his girlfriend. I gave out a little laugh. Contrary to what he exclaimed before, he still did wear the shirt, and it suited him quite well. I teared up a little, but this could wait. I’m in an operation at the moment. I must focus.

Somehow, the night felt unfathomably strange. My partner and I was inside the police vehicle watching over a big house in which a big party is being thrown. There were a lot of kids coming in and out of it. They seem to be high school students. I was suddenly reminded that my son was also going to a party. I suddenly felt worried; nonetheless, I believe that my son’s friends are good in character, and will not do any drugs. Even so, I rushed a text message asking if he is enjoying the party he is at.

“It is time to move,” said by the man in the transceiver. It was our captain. I checked my gun and I stepped outside the car.

In a flash of a moment, after hearing “Cops! Don’t move!” teens were running all over the place. I was suddenly reminded of the incident of my wife’s death. Then suddenly, I heard a gunshot. A group of teenagers who possessed guns resisted and started firing at us.

“Everyone is authorized to use their guns against these brats,” said by our captain.

“Let’s clean this area,” he added.

For minutes, there was series of gunshots that shortly died down

“There are five confirmed deaths,” reported by one of our co-officer.

I went inside the house to conduct an inspection. There was blood everywhere. In some corners there some teens who are injured and crying.

“What if they are civilians, just teens partying.” whispered by my partner.

“They are here. They are guilty.” I replied.

While inspecting the area I suddenly tripped over. There was a dead body of a boy lying on the floor. I could not see his face for it was his back facing me. As I observed the body, I felt my heart shreds into pieces. The time stopped, everything stopped.

The dead body was wearing the same knit shirt as my boy.

I crawled nearer the body, made it face me. I started to burst in tears. I wanted to shout his name but no words came out of my mouth.

Then my partner saw me and came running to me. I looked at him and started shaking my head. My son is not a drug user. I am certain. He is just here.

“He is here. He is guilty.” my partner said.

Soon enough, I was back home. Alone in the living room, weeping as I drank an alcohol. While I stared to nothingness, I came to realize that the peace I have sworn to protect is gone. I lie down in the couch, as the alcohol churned out my insides. The memories of my boy started flashing by, with my own mutterings being drowned in tears.

“He is guilty,” as we cried together on his mom’s funeral.

“He is guilty,” as he officially introduced his girlfriend.
for visiting.

“He is guilty,” as he hugged me, clad in toga, with a medal in neck and diploma in hand.

He is guilty he is guilty he is guilty he is guilty I am guilty he is guilty he is guilty.