Torture clawed through my skin, ripping my heart out to where it seemed similar to dying. Waves of sweat poured down my body, and I rubbed my hands down my pants.
He tortured me every day. He, a singular person, had such power over me. Guilt seeped into my veins, and I was overcome with the feeling of utter resentment towards myself. It needed to end.
The massive brick structure standing in front of me was a symbol of integrity and justice. Those had become foreign traits to me.
I precariously placed my feet, one before the other, until reaching the top of the steps. My desperation traced back to two weeks ago.
It had been a moonlit hour, and I was sprawled out at the park. I habitually approached my hidden sanctuary when caught in my thoughts.
Lowering myself onto the ground, I greedily breathed the fresh, frigid air, and pulled my scarf tighter, encompassing my neck.
After a moment, my ears detected inaudible sounds and footsteps. I peeked through the trees, seeing a youthful woman and a man.
The girl stumbled away from the male, while he tried to speak to her. He yanked her wrist and whipped her towards him.
As I continued watching their interaction, I realized the man was the paragon of viciousness. His calculated stance looked ready to pounce at any second.
Evil oozed from his pores, causing me to feel sick with apprehension. When the male walked closer to the girl, I elevated from my spot.
My fingers crawled into my rear pocket, needing something to grip. Resting in my concealed location safely between the trees, I resumed perceiving their conversation.
The man suddenly shouted and shuffled away. Although I wanted to make sure the girl was okay, my light orbs, on their account, followed the furious person.
He climbed into an enormous truck parked on the side of the street. I furrowed my eyebrows when the guy started driving without turning on the headlights.
My intuition told me something bad would happen and to note his license plate. The only way to accomplish this in the darkness was by using my flashlight.
I prayed he hadn't seen the unnatural light coming from my phone, but a creepy gaze said otherwise.
The vehicle slowly picked up speed until it was rushing past. All that remained afterward was a girl's body, lying lifeless and bloody, in the middle of the road.
I had rushed away from the scene and called 911, with the intentions of turning him in the next day. In the morning, I received a message.
It stated, "Stay safe, Elora," but I didn't miss the threat.
Here I stand, two weeks late, the irrefutable evidence laid in my soft palms. Maybe my reasons are purely selfish, just wanting to demise the heavy burden on my back.
Maybe I believed in fairness for that nameless, faceless female. Regardless, with my last ounce of rectitude, I stepped into the building.