Hate

On Friday at precisely 2 pm, Samson Forge, a man with piercing dark eyes, full pink lips, a small, flat nose, and a chiseled jawline, walked into his favorite coffee shop. He moved with an air of confidence, his every step deliberate and graceful. As he sat down and ordered his usual diet, I watched him from the table behind, my eyes fixed on his every gesture. I seethed with anger at how serene he seemed, sipping his coffee with the elegance of a royal dinner. Each sip was a slow, deliberate movement, as if savoring a fine wine. He took his time, seemingly oblivious to the world around him, like he had all the time in the world.

The atmosphere in the coffee shop was cozy, with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the soft hum of conversation filling the air. But for me, it was a torture chamber. Breathing the same air as Samson Forge repulsed me to my core. How could a man so refined, so graceful, be the same devil who had torn my family apart? He had disappeared with my mom's unconscious body in his arms, never bothering to find her child or offer any explanation. The wound still fresh, my emotions raged like a storm as I gazed at him.

As I was getting lost in my fury, Chris grabbed my arm, his loud whisper piercing through the din, "Daniel!" The sudden jolt snapped me back to reality, and I realized my fingernails had clawed into the tablecloth, my grip so tight it had almost torn it. My eyes locked onto Samson Forge, my hatred and anger simmering just below the surface. The sunlight streaming through the window highlighted his chiseled features, making my blood boil even more. I was trapped in a maelstrom of emotions, my mind racing with questions and accusations, my heart heavy with the weight of my mom's disappearance.

The coffee shop's warm atmosphere and soft music seemed to mock me, a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing inside me. The gentle clinking of cups and saucers, the soft chatter of patrons, and the aroma of freshly baked pastries all blended together to create a sense of normalcy, but for me, it was a cruel reminder of the life I once knew. Samson Forge's presence was a harsh reality check, a reminder of the pain and suffering he had inflicted upon me by taking my mom.

Chris and I watched Samson Forge savor his dinner, his enjoyment feeling like an eternity to me. I was fixated on when he would finally leave, as we had planned to tail him and confront him in a secluded alley, where I would force him to reveal what he did to my mom. Our eyes never left him, until a chatty waitress approached our table, inquiring about our order. Her timing couldn't have been worse, blocking my view of Samson. I brusquely dismissed her, "We didn't come here for your stupid coffee!" Just as she was about to react, I stood up, grasped her arm, and moved her aside. To my surprise, Samson had vanished.

In a flash, I pinned the waitress to the table, her hands behind her back, accusing her of distracting us to aid Samson's escape. Chris tried to reason with me, "Daniel, chill! Remember, you're an officer, and this is a public place." I reluctantly eased my grip, aware that the entire coffee shop was staring at us. The waitress, freed from my grasp, attempted to slap me, but I dodged her weak attempt. Chris intervened, catching her hand on her second try, recognizing that I would have used self-defense as an excuse to retaliate. He knew it wouldn't end well for her if I chose to escalate the situation.

As Chris calmed the irate woman, I stormed out of the coffee shop, still hearing her threats to call the police. Chris shut her down, reminding her that we were the authorities. Outside, Chris lectured me, "Dude, I know you're obsessed with catching Samson, but you can't be reckless and paranoid like this. You're an award-winning detective; act like one." His words fell on deaf ears, as I was fixated on spotting Samson in the distance. I finally saw him casually crossing the road and took off in his direction, leaving Chris behind.

Chris shouted my name as the gap between us grew, but I couldn't hear him anymore. My focus was solely on Samson, who was now just a few feet away. As I approached, a car suddenly appeared, nearly hitting me as I tried to cross the road. I heard the horn too late to dodge the collision. I couldn't die like this!!!, not when I was so close to making Samson pay for my lifetime of trauma.