The Moral Brute

Against my will, my mind is always occupied with the memories that just bring back pain. I spent so much time in them but they are not healed and it's also not like I can forget them.

I can only lie to myself and put up a facade that I am strong, happy and okay. Because I don’t have anyone to rely on not even myself.

I don’t have trust in myself because it'll be deluding.

Today I was going to take a step closer to my past I am now tired and suffocated in living in regrets. A life of facade is the same as not having one. I parked my car in front of the orphanage and get off. It was vacant. As I was informed that it is shifting its location. I looked in the surroundings and a small store became visible to me.

I strolled to the store and started scanning it from outside. There were two surveillance cameras that became visible to me.

“Who are you?” a gruff voice entered my ears. I turned around and looked at the man. He had many fade blemishes on his face and one prominent under his left eye.

I facked a smile “sir...I want to see the CCTV footage...I am a journalist” I showed him the ID hanging around my neck “just show me recordings of last night ” I said pointing at the camera which was just covering the road afar from the entrance of the store I assumed that he would not have any insecurity in this case “actually there was a hit and run accident...I just have to track a car”.

He stared at me for a second then gestured to go inside. He guided me to the recording of that particular camera and I kept dissembling.

All of a sudden his phone rang and he was excused to go out. That was my chance. I opened the lockers beneath and went through his stuff. There were wooden stairs above the cabin I was in. I was going to move upstairs because my eyes caught some black bags up there but I stopped because of a strange odour I couldn’t define what it smelled like but for sure it was peculiar.

I glanced at the small door beside me it was coming from there. A table with different tools on it was placed in front of it. I slowly pulled it away. I opened the door and saw an unbelievable sight.

what ex-convict? he is still playing foul.

I walked inside, the cabinet there were racks on which small packets of what seemed like narcotics were placed and trunks of goods that were surely about to get smuggled or are smuggled. I held my phone to take pictures when all of a sudden I heard a voice behind me

“what are you doing here..?”

My mind was blocked I didn’t know what to say...how to react. I have to get out of here.

I turned around and moved rapidly I pushed him and he fell out of the room I tried to run away but he pulled me from my leg and I stumbled. Laying down I kicked his chest and again stood on my feet he pulled my hair and smashed my head on the wall. I gasped in pain holding my bleeding head. It was aching like hell.

I breathe deeply pulling out the ID card from my neck.

“do you think you’ll get away like this?” he moved forward. I kicked him again but I couldn’t get away. He choked me with his arm around my throat and started dragging me. I tried to unlock his arm with my hands. I stepped on the table and pushed it with all my might. We both fell on our backs. I peeked at the things that fell from the table and picked the lantern and smashed it in his head. That was not enough he still tried to get at me.

I put the lanyard of the ID card in his neck choking him from behind his head. He tried to unlock my wrists from the strap but couldn’t. He was resisting with his hands and by screeching his feet against the floor.

All of a sudden I felt out of luck.

I sensed my grip loosening...my body felt weak...as it dropped on the floor. I put my trembling hand on my abdomen and felt the bleeding wound.

“It's bad you couldn’t go any further..” he mocked ” you have the same fate as your father ”

His words became the last I heard and the...the blur vision... of...the flames were the last thing... I witnessed.

48 hours before

I reached the station and started walking upstairs. I was in the middle of the stairs when Will my junior called me asking me to study some files.

″Sure″ I said and grabbed them from him. I headed towards the editor office. I barged inside and saw him working on his laptop.

“how many times do I have to tell you to knock before you enter” he stated staring at his laptop screen

“Mr Han...” I muttered, “you are not going to tell me?”

he stared at me with a questioning look

“about the upcoming conference...its the day after tomorrow”

“hmm..come sit,” he said gesturing towards the couch. He stood up from his desk and sat in front of me.

“I’ll try to send you there but...” he paused

“what?”

“it is not confirmed yet but I think the chief wants to send Rebecca there”

Rebecca? noway...The woman I despise most.

“why? why he will send her when I am better than her...I am at least diligent..and passed the interview in the first turn also I got gra-”

“I know I know you graduated from a top university and your GP is the highest but that's not the problem here! your grades at your university and in the interview only helped you to enter this field but it can’t help you with your stay”

“so what should I do? I was waiting for a long time...I wanted a good story” I cried

“I will talk to the chief for you but you’ve to impress him!”

“I will do anything just tell me” I assured him

“change..what you write”

I knew its not easy to impress your high ups but how I can change what I write. Maybe I should just let it go...NO! that sly fox she can’t take my chance...but how can I...

“Sir! what are you saying how can I change what I write or how I write when even I don’t know how I write I just...write when I am writing”

he heavily sighed “I am not telling you to change your writing entirely...you ever wondered why I reject many of your articles! because you only consider your point of view”

Now, what does this mean...he wants me to stop criticizing the people I mostly do I guess...but my tabloid is famous for that and they always seek bounties from high ups more precisely he want me to honey my words for certain people.

I walked out of his office...and numerous thoughts occupied me... he explaind what my seniors really want me to write. They want me to turn a blind eye on the facts, they want me to divert public’s attention and keep them ignorant. Maybe that’s what I will do because I can’t keep on writing ariticles for the news papers and websites I want to broadcast my own show.

My shoulder brushed with someone and I dropped the file the papers inside it got scattered...I sighed and started collecting them when the person who made this happen helped me with it.

“I am sorry..” ...a familiar voice..I looked at him and paused

“Mr Caspian!”

We stood up and he handed me the papers

“its been a while” he smiled

“...yes..how...come you are here...?”

“I was invited for a talk show...” he replied. I wished him luck. He smiled and turned to leave when I called him “sir...can we have coffee together...sometime... when you’ll be free”

“sure”

We parted our ways and I went to my desk. Its been a year we last talked...although we belong to same field of occupation I’ve seen him on different occasions but never had the courage to talk to him and that was my mistake...Mr Caspian is a journalist I always looked up to from when I dreamed to become a journalist. I always wished to meet him in person and that day came when it was my last year of study.

it was the time when all of the students practising reporting, we were assigned with different locations and paired as two. For this assignment our university invited Mr Caspian to guid us and grade our reports and thats when-

“why are you all spaced out?” I was intrupted by one and only Rebecca who was standing in front of my desk smiling ear to ear and I definitely knew that why she bothered to walk to my desk she clearly believe that she is blessed to participate in the conference.

“what sin I did to see you smile like that”

“I wish I could take you with me you know...to the conference it would be a great experience” she mocked at me...she dared to

“Rebecca...its not confirmed that who is going...and if you got the chance than believe me I don’t have a little bit of interest because my aim lies somewhere else!”

“you really think you’ll get your own show?” she clicked her tounge ” I wish you luck”

darn wench

“I don’t need it!”

At Home

“The conference is about presenting the idea of a eco city and you are well aware who is going to present the idea...the cheif minister...and you unluckily think yourself as his critic...what I am trying to say is...telling the truth is our responsibilty..but you’ve to look what news brings good outcomes...facts are not always necessary but you...you are hopeless”

Editor Han’s voice ringed in my head “...but you...you are hopeless” as I was staring at my laptop secreen trying to type...something.

I sighed “why would I be hopeless!?” I said to myself “you can do it Hannah! you can do it! just write what you don’t want to!”