In My Hands, Know Suffering

8: Checkmate

One accused would often think of why he was charged with such crime. One with freedom would sometimes abuse the liberty of unbounded chains. A heavy heart filled with remorse would know no regret on the verge of desperation. Charges of an unseen lawless bug would crush the hopes of a fading light. Sometimes, not everything that had been said and done would follow a norm.

Palpitation overrode all senses while Castellone walked briskly as he headed home. He tucked his hands in the pockets of his hoodie to hide the visible trembling. He bumped on people who crossed paths with him like he wasn't looking at where he was going. He kept his gaze straight and didn't meet anyone in the eye. It can either be too obvious that he did something, or he was far too young to have his innocence lifted. He was too focused on getting away from the scene while police vehicles and an ambulance made it towards the apartment building. I didn't do it. Fuck, I didn't do it.

Yeah right, as if he wanted to believe in that lie right now when his mind was too clouded to think straight. There was a guilt deep inside him that he so wanted to claw out and be rid of. There was another voice laughing and he could hear it, but he wasn't sure where it was coming from. And then there was the crowd of people blocking his path, he wanted to order their deaths just so he could get past the pathway easily. For every step he took farther from the crime, he trembled greatly. He wanted it to stop.

No one would suspect me. No one. Before he could have stopped himself, he was uttering words that just blurted out of him. He couldn't stand the sight of the poor old woman being beaten by that man. Relative or not. That act in itself made his conscience work in sympathy. Maybe he wasn't so bad after all? He wanted to make sure the old woman was safe from such an abusive performance though he didn't really know what their argument was about. Everything that happened was far too unrealistic, but it opened his eyes.

Yeah, that's just your sorry excuse for wanting to kill somebody.

Humans are all the same. He was no different. He could kill, he could steal, he could lie, he can even make the effort to hide. These thoughts suddenly poured out of him, but he had to keep it down, keep himself in check. Keep his temper on the cooler side of rage. He needed to stop chasing red. Red was bad. It was wrong. He never would have thought about the receiving end of the words he said, and he didn't have to know the aftermath of what occurred. To hell with it. What's done was done.

He took a turn towards one of the alleys. When he was clear of the crowd, he began to run as fast as his feet could take him. Far from the scene that triggered a bloodlust of inconvenience. Morbid as it seemed to be, he felt the urge for punishment. But before he could have gotten far from the alleyway, someone pulled him in the arm to an abrupt stop. He twirled only to meet the concerned face of Abrielle.

Abrielle was panting as she tightened her grip around Castellone's arm. It was obvious she had been chasing him. "I heard you."

With a grimace, Castellone pulled his arm off her grip forcefully before taking a step back. His breathing was ragged, and he grew more nervous at what the girl said. Someone heard him after all and never would have expected it to be her, now he felt all screwed up, panicked, a rush of guilt. And there she was, a witness. One witness who could turn him down. Or was she even capable of doing so?

"I know what you did, what you said, and how everything you said happened." Abrielle said, emphasizing her words while she pulled him to face her. He tried to step away from her a lot of miserable times, but his attempts of letting go failed to lessen the rage.

Whenever Castellone tried to pull his arm off her, she kept gripping him back to make him stop and face her. Tension could be seen in his features by what Abrielle said. He knew he wasn't in the wrong for delivering such words. They were only words. A mere count of letters that casted the formidable.