Fears and Phobias

Collateral Damage

In a slummy warehouse disconnected from the rest of the bustling district stood a young man of twenty-five years of age. He had found himself in a rather peculiar situation that night; the temptation of luxury was much too sweet to resist.

In front of him was indeed a tricky situation: a suitcase filled with undiscovered treasures that could free him of his stresses and a fleshy child, a tender twelve years of age and the reason of his tossing and turning, shivering in a wettish puddle with a sharp metal muzzled against her head. A heavy tension suffocated the atmosphere as the plea of sheer desperation made her honey brown eyes quake.

Despite this, the young man could only stifle in hesitation. He mulled over the times back when he left his meal to the worthless thing in front of him and starved for a full five days until a butcher took pity on his shriveled form and tossed him week-old expired ham. He thought of the times when goons dressed him with agonizing bruises and threatened him for refusing to relinquish those few sheets of paper, which he obviously didn't have. He recounted the sleepless nights when, after the worthless thing had finally drifted to slumber, he'd huddle in the corner of their little alley, trying to remember the proper way to tie the knot for the noose his wife used to escape the debt. His mind halted.

The young man refused to witness the consequences of his decision, knowing they'd make his joys taste so bittersweet. With a swift sweep, he latched the suitcase under his dirt-cased fingers as he gazed at the quivering, snot-nosed child who gaped in utter disbelief.

"Who cares if it dies," he grimaced with a penetrating sneer. He turned towards the exit illuminated by the bright moonlight.

He took a step forward, and the guilt eroded. A muffled, broken wail of agony pieced the silence as a desperate shuffle squirmed its way towards the back of the young man. He kept his stride faced forward with no halts. No sooner than when he stepped outside with the new taste of a future filled with the luxury of three meals a day were the shuffles silenced with a fleshy thump echoing through the silence as the crisp scent of iron permeated the air.