by Jake Bruce
I want to tell you that this was a happy story and there was moments of happiness, like in life there can be, but this is a story of injustice and living with the effects of it.
The great anger that boils your blood. Something you hold in your hand that burns you, that you can’t let go.
This is the story of two normal people who were in love and became brave through strenuous thought, sacrifice and their love of one another.
This is a story born of anger, a poisonous play on the inability to keep power through traditional methods, leading to desperation of leaders and the toll it takes on the brave.
They sat on the edge of the bed. He was holding her tight, as if he didn’t, she would spill out. This was the first and last time she was attacked.
The skin that was once sun kissed, was bloody and bruised blue and red. When both their tears had dried, Alfred ran to the shop and bought ice cubes and a cloth. He ran back.
Citra was in the bath soaking her body, letting her tensed muscles unwind.
He put four ice cubes in a cloth and hit it with a rolling pin, crushing the ice in a single slam.
“Thank you” she barely got the words out.
He gently pressed the cold cloth on the bruises on her cheek.
He grabbed the grinder and baggy from her bedroom draw. He then placed some weed in the grinder and grinded it at the coffee table of his studio apartment.
He rolled a short joint using his rizzla, making sure he used the THC crystals at the bottom of the grinder. He wanted it to be strong enough to kill her pain.
He ran a plastic cup under the tap and gave it to Citra, then lit the joint without inhaling the smoke.
He then gave it to Citra, who then took a few breathes and signalled with her hand that she didn’t want anymore.
“I would suffer for you, you know”, “And I you Alfred”. The sudden flicker of revenge popped into his mind but his mind was quickly overridden by Citra getting out of the bath.
They watched James Dean movies in bed the rest of the night, and didn’t leave the bed except to grab more food.
It was a bone chilling winter day, the day he found the electronic device which would irreversibly destroy his life.
This combination of plastic, glass, metal, gold and data, is what would lead to him to be blood drenched lying on his bed.
He was sat listening to music on the train, wrapped up warm in his overcoat. The man opposite him was in a pin stripe suit, bleach blonde hair, his pale fat cheeks pressed against the train window. He was nervous.
He looked physically ill. All the colour was gone. He was on the phone, never talking but just listening, nodding and occasionally saying he understood. The man left on his stop to Westminster station.
He was in such a hurry and nervous state he left his laptop. Alfred saw and went to give it to the ill man but was repulsed with a solid “Screw off”. Alfred couldn’t believe it.
He just didn’t understand how this lethargic looking man refused help. Alfred had suddenly recognised the man as the Foreign secretary.
His fat face was drastically different without make up and his straw hair pushed nervously across his scalp.
He rushed to the university to pick up Citra. He was grinning from ear to ear. A childish smile who’s self-pride was in showing their parent a picture or being naughty.
“I have something for you!”
“You’ll have to wait till we go home, you won’t believe it”
They fast walked home, both smiling at each other in excitement.
As soon as they got through the door Alfred screamed “I’ve found the bumbling idiot’s laptop Citra! The foreign secretaries’ laptop!”
“Alfred what have you done …. What the fuck have you done, why haven’t you handed it in!?”
“Well I tried to give it to him”
“You don’t know what the fuck could be on there”
“It’s not my fault the troglodyte told me to fuck off”
“Alfred look at me, he’s one of the most powerful people in this country”
“Well how’s he gonna know it was me?”
“Alfred what kind of world do you think we live in ? This isn’t the 50s, there are camreas everywhere, as soon as that laptop connects to the wifi we’ll be swarmed by police you know that right?
“We could use a proxy or something …”
“And what the fuck do you know about proxies”
Alfred sulkily slowed down in knowing he was losing the argument and therefore the joy of accessing the laptop.
His head sprung up and he excitedly exclaimed “I know a guy”
“You know a guy Alfred? Well I’m pretty sure the government know a few hundred guys who don’t live in their parents basement!”
“No no, seriously he builds his own computers and shit, he’s like insanely smart!”
“Alfred, no, please don’t do this to yourself”
“We can make them suffer for what they did to you”
“And what do you know about suffering!? You and your rich family have done everything for you until now. You don’t what it means to suffer.” It was true, he usually took money from his family, but was now trying to survive on his own.
He paused leaning back in the sofa chair. He looked down at his feet.
“I see you suffer and it kills me. It burns me inside. I never wanted to feel this anger. I never wanted to feel this hatred.
I love you and anyone that hurts you or the things and people you love, have given me no choice but to retaliate. I didn’t want this vial of acid that eats out my insides.
I’m keeping it and taking the battery out. We can sell it to someone like … I don’t know the sun or the guardian or the Russians….. If we need the money”
She smiled and hugged him. He kissed her neck, slowly smiling gladly the confrontation was over. “Anything for my war torn princess”.
“Hmmm I don’t know how to feel about that”
“I’ll come up with something better”
“Please just call me my name Alfred”
“I refuse” he laughed.
They held each other close that night in bed. The heating was turned off. Even with two duvets the cold seeped in. They pressed their naked bodies against each other and were happy. None were as happy as these.
Their warm bodies made the love comforting and both were satisfied. To be continued in part 2 Let me know what you think in the comments.