It was one of the most horrible scenes I ever had to bear witness to.
A few steps away from us, a woman no older than twenty-five wearing an old burlap sack for a dress had bumped into one of the police officers patrolling the streets.
The officer was a tall, lanky man with the kind of face that would make you angry just by looking at it. He looked to be in his thirties, with a bald head and patchy beard.
He grabbed the woman by the hair the moment her shoulder grazed him, and threw her to the ground.
Then, he drew his sword and placed the blade's sharp edge against her neck.
The woman had all the telltale signs of an addict — sunken eyes, sickly skin, unnaturally thin, and shaking like she was buried in snow.
Naturally, no one from the pedestrians came forward to defend her.
If anything, everyone started walking faster the moment they noticed those men dressed in khaki uniforms.