Author: quoc huy
Movies

PART 2 | My world completely spun out of focus, the familiar walls of my own hallway closing in on me like a suffocating vice as the officer’s words echoed like a gruesome death sentence in my ears. My heart was racing so violently that the deafening thud of my pulse drowned out the distant sounds of the morning traffic, and a wave of pure, unadulterated nausea washed over me. I stared blankly at the blood-splattered vintage guitar encased in that cold, sterile plastic bag, my mind violently rejecting the reality right in front of my eyes. This had to be a sick joke, a nightmare from which I would soon wake up. Not my Leo. Not the boy who spent his weekends volunteering, who couldn’t even bear to step on an insect, let alone tangle with a ruthless, cold-blooded cartel enforcer. “That’s impossible,” I choked out, my voice cracking into a broken whisper as a hysterical laugh threatened to bubble up from my throat. “He’s just a sixteen-year-old kid! He was working his shift at the diner all night, he has an alibi! Check the time cards!”

- by quoc huy