Allen awoke to the screech of tiresyet again. He was growing sick of the mornings when his neighbor would drivehis crappy car. Slowly Allen rose from his bed and started getting ready forschool. He looked in the mirror to see that the bruises he had gotten the nightbefore were black and blue. Nothing from the previous night had gone the way heintended. Allen’s “bad habit” of talking back had got him an unpleasant timewith his father and his father’s belt. One too many times he would have to lieto his friends and teachers. Allen hated to lie, especially to his friends.Allen had high morals; at least they were as high as he could have in theneighborhood he was born into. Allen got dressed and did his normal morningroutine. Soon Allen was out the door.

            Allen walkedthe crumbling sidewalks look around where he lived. “Civilization is at itshighest point in technology, and this what it looks like?” Allen asked himselfas he looked at the rundown houses surrounding him. He walked by a house thathad a hole in the side just big enough for a small animal to crawl into. Allencontinued down the streets and turned the corner. The sight he saw filled himwith such a rage he almost lost control. A young man was beating a youngergirl. Allen knew not of the reason why but, Allen did know that this was wrong.Allen ran away, just like he had always done in his life. For some unknownreason, this time was different. This time Allen ran towards the violence andnot away from it. Allen hunched down, leaning his right shoulder towards theyoung delinquent, impaling him with his shoulder. The young man fell over andstarted to swear. He cursed Allen out as Allen told the girl to run. Allendidn’t pay attention to her long enough to see whether she did or didn’t run.Allen turned back to the young man just in time to see a fist coming straighttowards his face. Allen, from instinct, slipped the blow and countered with apunch of his own to the delinquents side. He backed up quickly to stay out of rangefrom the other.

“I don’t want trouble, I ju”- Allen began to say before hewas interrupted.

“You don’t have none business in that” the clearly uneducateddelinquent said.

            The opponentwas clearly an explosive fighter, as he kept throwing blow after blow in hopesof hit Allen but, his effort was to no avail. Allen cupped his right handaround the back of the others neck, pressing his forearm to the opponentschest. Using his left hand, he grabbed the back of the others arm and pressedhis fingers into the triceps. Allen had successfully stop the man from movingbut, that was only if he could hold the man there. The man tried to elbow Allenin the face but, Allen used his left hand to push the arm up. Allen duckedunder the arm as he pushed and grabbed the man from behind.

“Please just stop. What you were doing was just wrong, thatwas the only reason why I tried to stop you!” Allen exclaimed.

“I don’t Care ‘bout dat no mores.” he said.

The opponent was relentless, throwing blow after blow, swingafter swing, and his speed turning to an easy casual swing. This kid clearlydoesn’t realize he’s only going to get tired. Allen cupped his right handaround the back of the others neck again but, some spark of intelligence toldthe delinquent to bring up his right hand so it wouldn’t be put into a lockagain. None the less Allen’s instinct told him to cup the opponent’s wrist. Asthey fought for wrist control the sound of sirens became present to Allen. Theywere off in the distant, plus Allen had other problems to worry about. Such asthe slow minded man child currently attacking him. Allen tightened his grip onthe wrist he controlled and pulled straight down causing the young man to comeforwards and slightly lose their balance. Allen used this chance to grab hisheel and pull up. The opponent fell with a thud and Allen followed him to theground for the sole purpose of staying in control of the fight. He had hoped hecould have stayed up but, luck wasn’t on his side it seemed. The other hadexperience with ground fighting. He wrapped his legs around Allen’s back. Allenpressed on the top of the chest pushed up and jumped up slightly. Now Allen wasagain, the dominant one in the fight. But why stop here, Allen thought tohimself. He squeezed inwards with his legs, keeping his right hand on thedelinquents chest, Allen leaned forward to put more pressure on the other legsto loosen up some. With his left hand he starting throwing punches to theothers face. Slowly the delinquent’s legs began to loosen. Allen kept going,waiting for the opportunity that was slowly crawling towards him. Each blowAllen dealt caused the other to loosen their legs completely. Allen quicklygrabbed the leg on his right side, pushed it around himself and down on theground. Then Allen wrapped his right arm around the others neck, imposing thefact that he had lost the fight and could be choked out. The sirens were as clearas the gunshots he had heard a couple nights ago when some gang initiation wentwrong. The flashing lights of the cruiser were blinding Allen but, he cared notfor the dilemma was almost over and he could continue to school. The policeslowly walked up weapons drawn as Allen yelled to them,

“Officer please help, this man was assaulting a younger girlso I stepped in!”

“Release the kid now!” one of the officers yelled.

Allen obeyed the command and laiddown where he was, relaxed thinking his problems were over. The kid ran and twoofficers followed him. One officer slowly walked towards Allen in a manner thatmade him nervous. Sitting up, Allen asked

“Can I have a ride to school please”.

“Oh I’ll give you a ride kid but, notto school” the officer said.

To Allen’s surprise the officerpulled out handcuffs. Allen lifted his hand up and offered them to the officer.

“I’m not resisting officer” Allenexclaimed.

The officer cuffed one of Allen’s handsand took his other hand around Allen’s back. Pulled off the ground in a moreviolent manner then needed, then shoved into the back of the cruiser. Afterbeing in the cruiser for 15 minutes Allen let out a sigh. My life couldn’t getany worse from the moment I set foot in my cell, till the day I take my finalbreath. The faint sent of alcohol was present in the car. The seats wereripped. Allen guessed it was from people trying to get out of the handcuffsthey were placed in. Alcohol was defiantly in the car. The smell wasintoxicating him. Overpowered by the sent he squeezed his fingers on hisnostrils to block out the horrible sent.

            “So you mustbe innocent then” said the officer.

“What?” Allen asked taken by surprise at what the officersaid “What do you mean?”

“Well every crook out there says they aren’t guilty and thatit wasn’t them. You’ve just sat there staring out the window. Therefore you’reinnocent. Say, are you a funny kid?” the officer replied.

“Sure?” Allen answered unsure of where this conversation wasgoing.

“Tell me a joke because this feels weird. Driving with ateenager who isn’t saying there innocent or isn’t making a witty joke” theoffice asked awkwardly.

“It’s funny how red white and blue are the colors for freedomuntil their lights flashing behind you. Now unless you’re telling me I am freeto go can we just stay silent?” Allen kindly requested.

“Sure thing. I’m sure you have to think of how to break thisto your mom and dad” said the officer.

“My mom is dead sir, my father would be proud that I’m goingto jail. Please stop talking” Allen said.

            The rest ofthe ride Allen sat in silence. He was 18 and in prison for doing the rightthing. No one in the school knew Allen was on his way to jail. Not Juvenaldetention, not some other detention type place. Just jail. After a couple ofhours and traffic, Allen arrived at the police station. Exhausted and defeatedhe thought this is what a toy must feel like when it runs out of juice. “Howare you today young man?” asked a new officer. “Broken at beat” he replied.Deep down he knew he did the right thing but, one question continually tuggedat his mind.

“Was it worth it?” he thought aloud.

“Nothing’s worth bein' in here” his new “friend” answered. 

There are no messages yet
Short Story
writing BringMeMore115
Fuck work, I have a job.
Bookmark and Share

You must log in to rate.
This has not been rated.

I wrote this in the dead of night. I wrote 20 hours straight and this had become part of it. I planned for there to be three parts, but I'm not so sure anymore. In order it is Rage, then Nightmare, I don't know what I'm going to call the third one.
© 2014 WritingRoom.com, LLC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED