Another Life.

Chapter 8

His form sunk back against the silhouette of the building, nearly becoming completely camouflaged. Before his short distanced and mostly visual retreat, his large an ominous presence was  seemingly superimposed in a facade over his his dark outfit that in the light of the fire made him seem even more of a living sigil of darkness, harken not to the laws of mortals. I was so young back then, I really thought he was a super hero, a guard who kept us safe. My mother was such a good liar when it came to things like that, she could explain the euthanasia of the youth in Asia and paint it to be one of the great works of Dahli with her eloquence, soothsaying and explaining away the travesties of life. The day I watched a young boy my age beaten within an inch of his life was the day I realized the guard wasn't there to keep me safe. I could hear the boot's heel crushing the boy's jaw bone, the shrill screaming in reaction, gurgled and muffled under the boot. An instinct nearly ripped me out of my own shoes, throwing my body forward in a lunge. I had no plan, just to distract him, just to save the boy's life, some how. I kept telling myself that was my reason, I told the boy the same, as with my and his family. The reality didn't sink in until later, I remember the rifle butt, I wished it was the bayonet. I wanted death after seeing such violence. I was a fool, it was only the first winter since the great divide.