8 At the Front Yard of the Church of Jetkins

19th November

Fighting soldiers of different uniforms. Scared civilians are battling for their safety—unimaginable gunfire, bombing, shouting, and crying for help.

You can see the turmoil around from a distance—burning debris, buildings, war equipment, people lifeless body and city-state. A devastated world appeared in front of me.

Missiles whistling indicated to blow up a target into pieces. Pistols, artillery guns, snippers, riffles fired simultaneously. Bullets are insatiable.

A bloody warzone formed from the peaceful countryside, dead bodies emerged from friendly citizens, and blood floods from the familiar dusty roads.

Can anyone help me out?

***

"Can you help me?"

"Help you from what?" Knitted forehead, I ask the woman. After the thing Reverend Scott did to us, she began to tell me stories. Stories I, myself, can relate.

We're somehow the same. Having this unnamed woman features, she can't leave peacefully at night and eat her meals on days. Being judge upon saying and telling her nightmares, people bullied her. Even her family tried to send her to a mental institution. No one believes her in what they called lies, but it's a filthy nightmare for her.

"Help me to become myself again?" pleading eyes, she said. I stepped out of the platform and looked her up.

"To tell you frankly, I don't know either." After saying those words, I started to walk. Our business here finished already. I felt that she followed me.

I don't know what to answer. Even myself, I can't help to be expected if my past doings aren't. She's pretty rebellious than me, even if I can't distinguish myself as one. And upon being a disobedient child, the world became her battlefield.

Hating everyone who never believes and understands her case became her usual thing. She was not the defiant type of person way back in her junior days but setting foot in college; everything happened so fast.

Her family didn't trust her as well as others. No one opens their doors. Until she heard about Reverend Scott and no doubt hurriedly came here asking for the healing. And Reverend gave her.

I also one of those unheard voices until my feet led me here, and I remember what Reverend Scott told me.

"How cou—" before she can complete her question, I faced her, resulting in her stopping also in her track.

"But… But, help yourself first! If you did, I can help you!" I shouted out of frustration. Shocked, evident in her face. But after seconds, a small smile crept on her lips.

I averted my gaze before she'll see me happy. Happy to see her be positive. Then I continue walking until I heard a commotion outside. I hurriedly walk and saw two civil guards with a man struggling in their grip.

"Let go of me, bastards!" he shouted at the top of his lungs. "I'm not the evil here!"

The man was severely beaten, like bruises on his face and shoulder can be observed. His nose indeed not in the right place as it bleeds nonstop. Eyebrows and lips are also injured. And upon seeing his wrist, several cuts and fresh wounds are visible aside from the rope tightly encircled. Did the two did those to him? Or he wanted to commit suicide?

"You're too loud!" impatiently stated one of the officers. And blow the man on his face letting his nose bleeds more.

I noticed the woman I'm with take her halt when he saw the situation. Her smile suddenly vanished and was replaced by a questioning look. Our gaze met, and I shrug my shoulder as an answer. She just nods.

"Being beaten for a crime took? Or just being nosey?" she blurted out, looking thoughtfully at the scene. I'm now the one who's creasing my forehead. She's right at that conclusion.

Is the man took a crime and the civil guards just doing their work? Or the man's innocent, and the civil guards frame him up? Either of the two, it's their problem.

"I'm going," I told her and bid my goodbye, but then she doesn't let me.

As I want to left this place and settle myself on the train, this woman beside me didn't let me. He got my arm and held it tightly so that I can't leave. She's stronger than me. How come?

avataravatar
Next chapter