Nerves twitched uncontrollably over the whole of his body, singeing through the numbness enveloping him. As his lips quivered, eyelids smacking over his eyes like broken window blinds. The blood in his mouth drooling onto his chin went unnoticed. The clothes on his aching body glued to his sweaty skin as his stare remained transfixed on a one square inch of the wall three feet in front of him. A maelstrom of anger roared inside his mind like a raging tornado as the scene of the discovery ricocheted in his head. His fists clenched so tightly that all the blood fled leaving only bony whiteness as a testament for their existence. He felt his heart in his throat as anguish gripped him with the understanding of what had happened.
Tears now trickled down his bruised saline cheeks as he sensed the first of the Officers walk inside. He knew that hate, like love, lay quivering dormant in the recesses of the soul, trapped under hardened surfaces, or pooling effervescently in translucent shallows; when conditions favor they can slowly ooze out under inexorable pressures, or explode unexpectedly. Unfortunately, this fine line between love and hate is usually only seen when the focus is much too late.
He now stood on the edge of that razor line after the only question which had blotted his mind had been irrefutably answered. He knew his life now teetered on that edge; for once the soiled blood finally dried, on which side of that blade would he fall?
-WHAT has just happened?
-WHO is this particular friend?
-WHAT will happen to him?
SPLINTERED A Psychological Thriller will unveil the answers…