CHERRY

Chapter Forty-four.

Flashing red and blue lights are slowly growing brighter and closer. It reminds me of a certain day. The day I killed my parents and the day all of this began. There's something about police lights that are so eerily peaceful. The blue is a calming tranquil colour but it's drowned out by the sinister red. It crawls up the hill, slow and not as rushed as it should be, I see curtains twitching with prying eyes. They watch with puzzled faces and wandering eyes, scanning the scene unfolding before them. Then they leave. Their attention span is lost within a matter of minutes, and that's that. Passer by's look a few times over their shoulder before going on with their journey. It seems rather easily forgettable to them. Simply a small particle of their day- but to the women on the floor, the sleeping children in the car and the slowly ever-growing distraught boy in my arms- this is a life time of trauma.

The lights are closer now and the boy is now sobbing. What started with small whimpers and grew into shallow cries, is now screaming and thrashing in my arms. It only begun when he saw the lights and the dim wail of the siren. All it took was one police car. I run through all of the possibilities in my head as to why a singular cop car could cause this little boy such distress, and well I can only think of one option as to why he is so afraid of the men in blue. Adriano had told me weeks ago that the police force play a large part in the trafficking realm but it took me a while to put two and two together and understand that it will be difficult for survivors such as this boy to put his trust in them again. I'm struck that something that is so reassuring to most, is so harmful to him. All it takes is a noise and a light and suddenly a lot of memories are able to break the surface and re-trigger the toddler. I'm left wondering what part the police played in the child's story- what left him so fearful of their presence.

My hand is cupped around his head, holding him into my neck as his tears soak my shirt and his body shudders with sobs. I feel useless as to help him, he's in so much pain, such utter despair that his rapid, uneven breathing is putting him at risk of passing out anytime soon.

Everyone is staring at me and the boy, each with looks of worry plastered on their faces. My body temperature is far too high and my legs feel as though they're going to crumble any time now. Adriano stands in front of me, his thumb swipes away an escaped tear trailing down my cheek as he presses a kiss to my forehead.

Everything is so bittersweet in life. I feel like you can't get any good without getting an equal amount of bad. It plagues me day in and day out. Right now, the sweet is that these people are free of the walls confining them, and the bitter is that they'll forever bare the memories that will follow them. I don't regret this- not at all- but the sourness is already building up in my mind and I know the faces of these people will never leave my brain. I'll see them when I close my eyes and I'll see them in my nightmares. It feels so beyond selfish saying that- I feel like the biggest fraud when I feel scared or sad or worried. I don't have the place to feel any of those emotions in the presence of people who have gone through stuff far beyond imaginable. But it's so difficult to contain my emotions.

The police car comes to a stop at my feet and I'm surprised to find there's only one vehicle. Two men climb out of their seats and approach Adriano. They talk back and forth in Italian, making me unable to understand. Adriano notices as his eyes flicker past my questioning stare before he switches to English- as do the officers.

'We'll take the women down to the station, they'll be questioned and then free to go.'

One of the men says, his voice low and his frame on guard. The other male is shorter, his stance less caged and his presence more friendly. He's pulling faces at the boy in my arms but it simply makes his screams louder and more aggressive. I shush him as I talk,