Call of Violence
The police chief looked at him with what seemed to be a mixture of both sympathy and annoyance.
He furrowed his brows. "Wait a moment, you are the one of those stupid kids who stole my lights."
Roland stood up, still reeling from what just happened. He cleared his throat, and tried to buy another water bottle, this time sure that it wouldn't be made of unnatural dark matter.
"We're hardly 'kids', Chief Fieldings. But yes. We did steal your lights, but that's because we don't know why exactly you put it there." Roland said, calming his nerves.
The man scoffed. "You prob'ly know now, eh?"
Roland's face became crestfallen as he remembered that paranoia that tried to sink its teeth into him while he was waiting for Harker in the Circus Cabaret.
"Yes."
He drank from his water bottle, but it hardly made things better. His throat felt hoarse, like he had been screaming for hours. And maybe he was.