Echoes Of An Oversoul--Part 52

DoctorOversoul By DoctorOversoul, 6th Jul 2011 | Follow this author | RSS Feed | Short URL
Posted in Wikinut>Writing>True Stories

I was forced to realize that the only way to bring the ordeal to an end was by giving them what they wanted. Check out this amazing chapter to find out whom and what I'm talking about.

Echoes Of An Oversoul--Part 52

AFTER I CONSUMED THE BURGER and drank the soda, I began licking my fingers as the detectives watched in disgust. Then, soon as I was done, I leveled my piercing gaze at them and said, “Thanks for your generosity, fellows. Now, tell me something, since the burden’s become too heavy for the mule, how will you get it to cooperate?”
There was a look of confusion on their face. So I burst into a sudden fit of insane laughter. My rhetorical question was intended to express the fact that I had no desire to proceed with the interrogation.
Furious, detective H freed his gun from its holster and leaped forward. I winced slightly as he towered over me and glared down at me. Then, he cocked the gun and aimed it at my temple. “This is the last time I’m gonna’ ask for that confession, you little punk, before I blow your brains out!”
His sudden outburst, his voice booming almost directly into my ear, nearly sent me reeling off my chair. “Please man,” I whined in a tone that was more whimper than voice.
“Don’t please me, you punk! Just tell me, what’s it gonna’ be? Can’t you hear boy?” Before he finished his statement he slammed his fist onto my ribcage.
Fear became easy to notice in me now. My loin ached, and I felt the blood pulsing fast and hard in my head. For an instant, I thought my head, due to the pulsing, had a rhythm exactly like the beatingof a taiko-drum. “Alright,” I whimpered, “I’ll do it!” I was forced to realize that the only way to bring this ordeal to an end was by giving them what they wanted. “I’ll do it!” I said again, just to be sure they heard me so I wouldn’t have to receive another bone-crushing blow on my body.
I used to think I was tough because I lived on the mean streets--tread uncharted territories, and did things that some said were impossible. I used to tell some of my buddies to man up whenever I saw them on the verge of a breakdown. But now, where’s that tenacity? Where’s that courage? How come I’m feeling like a complete coward, and on the verge of shedding tears? It’s a good thing my father’s not here to see me. I wonder what he would say and think of me? If he hasn’t changed, he’d probably say the same thing he would always say, “Men don’t cry…Babies cry! A strong man sheds blood before he shed tears!”
“Be a man, damn it!” I cursed myself under my breath.

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