Chapter 1 ; In Chains
1168 Words
Douglas Point Of View
I hate my life right now. I wished there was something I could have done differently to right all my wrongs. At age 25, I have nothing to show for it.
Being arrested wasn't on my bucket list. But somehow, it happened, and I'll be called an ex-convict for the rest of my life?
Absolute madness!
Shambolic.
The press, my father, and my brother will just be waiting for me to step outside so they can feast on me like prey.
Am I ashamed of myself? Most definitely.
Do I feel sorry for how things turned out like this? Absolutely not!
This shouldn't have been the verdict. For crying out loud, I fought three people.
The last time I checked, that should have been considered as self-defence under American law. But it's so unfortunate that I was arrested instead of trying to protect myself.
What if I were injured in the process or ended up being stabbed in the stomach by the students? Would they have arrested my corpse?
None of this makes sense to me. To worsen my situation, no one has visited yet.
Not even my father, not my brother. I don't want to believe that they haven't heard about my arrest yet.
I mean, I'm the heir apparent to the Nebraska dynasty. Everything about me is a topic for the press.
I saw how everyone took photos of me while I was being cuffed like a criminal and forced inside the van.
Social media is an extensive space, enough to disperse messages to a wide range of audiences.
“No, I need to do something,” I mutter succinctly as my voice echoes back to me.
What more proof do I need to be sure that my father has left me to suffer? Waiting for him to show up is like pouring water into a basket, hoping to see it get filled.
Wasted effort. I am not going to fold my arms and do nothing while I keep languishing in the cell.
“Hey,” I whispered to one of the cops strolling around. He looks at me and drifts his gaze away.
He made me believe that I was invisible. This has been their attitude since I got here.
I have every reason to believe that someone tipped them to hold me hostage for eternity.
“I need a cellphone.
I want to speak to my father,” I demanded.
I slammed the gate of my cell a thousand times to draw attention, yet I was ignored like a plague.
If there's one thing I detest, it's being ignored as though I don't exist.
The cops are a few inches away from me, and yet, they pretended not to see me.
“This is madness,
You will hear from my lawyer,” I threatened the cops.
Not even my present predicament could take away my rage and bluntness. I am already arrested. Surely, I have nothing to lose.
“I'd be willing to see that happen,” finally, he speaks but not what I expected from him
He walked away afterwards, leaving me stranded in the midst of my chaos. I called for his return and he ignored me.
Just when I thought all hope was lost, he returned to my cell saying, “You have a visitor,”
My countenance changed. At the mention of a visitor, my attention drifts to my lawyer.
He was the first person I reached out to after my arrest. Surely, he has come to grant my bail, so I thought
“Is it my lawyer?”
I asked the cops to be sure.
I would rather not get my hopes so high only to be disappointed later.
“You'd find out soon
Stop asking stupid questions,” the cop replied rudely.
He has always been hostile to me. I was such a fool, to think that he'd satisfy my curiosity.
While my hands were wrapped in cuffs, I was led to a dark room that was even worse than my cell.
The atmosphere wasn't very convenient for me. I nearly puked.
“Why did you bring me here? Where's the visitor?” I asked the cop.
He didn't respond to my query.
All he did was mimic my question and go away. Yet again, I was humiliated, and I couldn't do anything about it.
Suddenly, the light comes up, and I see a familiar figure in front of me.
My Father!
I could have sworn that he wasn't the visitor. I wasn't even thinking in his direction.
“Dad?”
I called out to be certain I wasn't dreaming. It wasn't a hallucination. It's the reality rubbing my face in the mud
I buried my face in the ground most of the time he was speaking to me. I was too ashamed to look into his face.
Where will I start from?
All I kept chanting was, “I am sorry, Dad. I failed you,”
The apologies weren't just enough.
I could tell when I realised that my father stopped talking to pace around.
“You went for the martial arts training and skipped lectures in the business school, didn't you?” My father asked.
His baritone voice is enough to make the earth shake. This is the time I wished the ground could open and engulf me.
“I,” I stutter at every attempt to speak up. Lying wasn't part of my plan.
I know my father too well.
Before he asks a question, he already knows the response.
“Answer the damn question,” he slammed the desk so hard that I thought it was my heart ripping apart
“Yes, father,”
I confessed, went on my knees and grabbed his legs, pleading for his forgiveness.
He wanted me to study business administration, as opposed to the martial arts I spoke to him about.
The plan is to graduate with flying colours and take over the company as the new CEO after his retirement.
I've always wanted to be a kickboxer.
That has been my dream for a kid.
It's so unfortunate that my father wanted a different path for me.
I made him believe that I was ready to ditch boxing for business administration. What did I do? I got into a fight with my coursemates.
I left them with fractured necks. Now my father is ashamed of me.
He may not have admitted it, but I can read his mind to know that I have failed him as a son.
“Get your hands off me,” he shoved me aside like a piece of s**t.
“I regret having you as a son. You are a disgrace to this family. I hope you rot in jail,” he spat at me and abandoned me to perish.
A thousand times I called for his return, and not for once did he respond to me.
It's now me against the world. My downfall has only just begun.
- Writer
