Darkness.
Shrieks.
Your mother.
Things flash before your eyes. You shouldn’t have run.
Martin’s eyes.
The baby.
You are currently kneeling in a puddle of your sweat, tears, and waste. Since that night, you have not been able to move. The mini-alley between the dumpsters and the wall have been your home for the past 3 days. If you needed food, you scavenged through the garbage trying to find a scrap or two. You know they are coming for you, and it’s only a matter of time before they cybersense or whatever the hell they do your trail.
Your mother. The baby. Martin’s crying!!!!!
You kneel there, rocking back and forth.
“It wasn’t my fault!” you scream.
“Then whos? whos?” the voice echos back to you.
You pick up a rock that was part of your pillow and throw it over the wall. You know it won’t do any good, the voice will always be there.
Watching, waiting, moaning, crying, gasping, reeling, looking. You look at the sky. There are no stars, no moon. Martin’s eyes. That is all you will ever see.