I met the lad outside his house and showed him my phone. On the screen was a video of his sister being brutally attacked by a gang. He stared at the footage in disbelief before looking up at me, his eyes filled with anger.
“Why didn’t you protect her?” he demanded. “Why were you filming it?”
“I wasn’t,” I replied quickly. “I found the video.”
“You found it?” he snapped. “The gang sent it to me.”
His expression hardened. He told me his sister was in the hospital, placed in an induced coma, and the doctors weren’t sure if she would ever wake up.
Before I could say anything else, he grabbed me by the throat and slammed me against the wall. His grip tightened around my neck, making it difficult to breathe, while he pressed a gun against my head.
“You should have done more,” he said through clenched teeth. “What you did wasn’t enough.”
He finally released my throat, but only to drive his fist into my face. I crashed to the ground, and he began kicking me before repeatedly punching me. I shouted for him to stop, but he ignored my pleas. Blood streamed from my nose, split lip, and bruised cheek as every blow landed harder than the last.
“You deserve this,” he said. “I’ll find someone else to protect my family, because you never did what was right.”
He stood over me, raised the gun, and fired twice.
turnnoffyourmind
yousharknotpass
prguitarman
titsay
areudirty
