Screaming, shouting, smashing,
shattering, screeching, and other noises came from behind the door.
“That little b****** is gonna die!” came the
voice of a man.
“Maybe he can retake the test – he must
have been having a bad day,” this had been from a woman
“Come here you little T****! After all the
things your mother and I did for you this is how you repay us?” came a yell
from the bedroom. Badal heard it, but he didn’t go up; he was too tired of his
life, he waited as the voices grew angrier and angrier and angrier – then the
door opened with a bang and feet raced down the stairs.
On seeing him on the kitchen stool looking
into the distance the father stole the chair from under him and smashed it in
his back! Yet boy got up unscathed.
“Get out of my f****** house,”
“Ok,” the boy then tore his shirt and pants
of his body.
“What are you doing?” spat the father.
“Before I wanted to return everything that
you gave me,” retorted the son. Once again, the father attempted to attack his
son, but he was too young; too quick, and with one blow his father was down on
the smooth hard wooden floor, “get up and I will kill you in self-defence!”
“From right this moment I am no longer your
son,” he said in his most powerful voice, “touch me again and I’ll stick a kitchen
knife in you!”
And with that as his final word he left the
house! Without a word to his mother.
It was a clear cold afternoon, it feels
weird, in a natural sort of way, to feel the air in places it would otherwise
rarely go.
Though there were tears were streaming down
his face – it was with anger of all those days wasted in the tight grip of his
parents and the joy of finally being free – he watched people walked past him
and waved to them and some people he knew took pictures, but he didn’t care.
There was a plan that he had made, though
not fully thought through, it would involve him getting arrested and in his
current situation he knew just how to get it done…
Around the corner and up the hill, through
the rusty iron gates there is a park! That is where he went – by the time he
had taken a lap around the park there were sirens. He chuckled to himself
wondering who had reported him:
“999 what’s your emergency?”
“There is a man in the park breaking the
law!”
“Any identifying marks?”
“He has three arms!”
Doors were heard closing as the siren went
deadly silent.
“You are under arrest on …um… suspicion of indecent
exposure. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you
do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court.
Anything you do say may be given in evidence,” yelled one woman – and he put up
hands.
When
one got close enough, he struck out at the face then grabbed the other and
smashed her head on his knee – they were both on the floor – one unconscious –
the other soon followed.
Stripping them off their clothes equipment
and keys – he put them on, he looked as if he had newly joined the force – he walked
over to the police car.
“Hey,” Badal said to a man in the car – he
was wearing headphones so did not hear, “Hey!”
The window was rolled down, this man too
was pounded in the face – Badal took the man head with one hand and opened the
door with the other then moved only the head through the door and slammed it –
Bang! The man was dead!
Throwing the man out, he got into the car
and closed the door and wound up the window and sighed: he had never felt more
alive; to think he had considered suicide over this!
“Constable Evans what is going on?” exclaimed
the walkie-talkie in the car.
“He is dead-,” replied the new recruit.
“Who the f*** are you?” came a sound from the
device followed by shatter in the background.
“-this world is too good on adults,” he carried
on, “you never give a thought to the children – well I am going to change all
that! I am the skin stealer!”
“You sound like a young lad – hand yourself
in and we'll see if we can’t give you a minimum sentence and-,” he tore the sound
from the car and threw it out of the window and rolled it up…