Acropylova

He just scooped up hundreds of thousands of bills and immediately stuffed them into the backpack he was carrying. Without feeling cold sweat began to penetrate the white shirt he was wearing. He straightened up again. Then hurried to leave the room without leaving a trace. A pair of legs waltzed leisurely along the corridor that led directly to a gate. The giant door looked deserted and left only a slight gap from the railing that had not been tightly closed. Soon he managed to get through the gate and a boy his age came in a two-wheeled vehicle he was carrying. The boy stood directly opposite him. "How? Safe?" the boy asked before getting back on his bike. "Yes." He answered briefly and then rode the motor. In the next second, his body was carried darting through the deserted streets. Along the way he was silent. Indifferent to the little boy in front of him. And his two eyeballs seemed to be busy staring at the air blankly. While deep inside his chest was an agitation that he wanted to calm down immediately. There is opium that he must grant. On the other hand, there was a burning and itchy feeling that kept gnawing at the contents of his head. He ducked his head. His hands moved open the coat that wrapped around his body. A pair of eyes stared at the arm covered with scars of wounds he made himself. "Don't go crazy! We're on the road!" the boy snapped as if he knew what he was going to do with his arm. He was only able to sigh the plan and then retract the coat and to cover the arm. "Still a long time?" he asked, trying hard to stay patient. "Twenty minutes left," replied the boy still riding his motorcycle. He swung his arms. Scratching the nape of his neck that began to be uncomfortable. The heat seemed to burn all over his head. It sighs heavily. "Hold on, Bro," the boy said as if he realized he was complaining. He just nodded with a pair of eyes fixed on the rearview mirror. Hoping that twenty minutes of quick rolling time took him somewhere. Twenty minutes passed. He got off the boy's ride. "Sorry, I can't take long. I've been waiting for the others. So I can't wait for you," the boy said before leaving. He just nodded. It wasn't until a minute later that the boy darted away leaving him between narrow alleys. His steps stopped right at the end of an alley that was directly aimed at a second-hand warehouse. Unconsciously, his fingers clenched violently until they squeezed the straps of his backpack. Then a pair of sharp eyes with jet beads came down staring at the few hundreds of thousands bills in his hand. There was something that clearly felt stuck in the corner of his heart considering how to get that much money just to indulge in opium that has now managed to shackle him. His gaze was raised again, looking straight at the few people who were standing and seemed to be making transactions exactly ten meters away from where he stood. "Hey, Bro!" One of the people called him. Hesitantly, his steps swung again, coming to several people, each holding a small package filled with white powder. Yes, the white powder is what he now needs. Until the steps of a pair of feet stopped directly in front of that person. Unconsciously, his other hand squeezed the backpack strap even more. "I've prepared ten grams for you," the man said quietly right on his earlobe and lifted the small package of white powder in front of him. He felt his throat dry and then painstakingly swallowed his saliva. The man's hand moved out, and then without being asked put the small package into the pocket of the white shirt he was wearing. "This time there is nothing free. You bring the money, right?" The person raised his hand directly in front of his face. His head nodded. Asking questions from a man dressed in a white-gray uniform wrapped in a black denim jacket. "Yes, where?" pleaded the man seemingly not accepting the rebuttal. For the umpteenth time he swallowed saliva with great difficulty. This is wrong. This is wrong. This is not true, he said in his heart. It was as if he realized everything that would happen afterwards. A few seconds of silence, he instantly realized that everything he did was a fatal mistake. Although on the other hand he really wanted that thing. Ah,! The opium is now an addiction that attacks him violently and then shackles him tightly. This is wrong. This is not true. This is wrong. The words kept circling the contents of the head. Although his eyes looked at the hand that was still faithfully hanging in the air. He shook his head softly. While his whole body began to tremble. Without saying anything, his legs swung as fast as possible, as if a figure was pulling him away from that person. Soon, a roar of steps sounded crowded after him. Only one flashed in his mind, he just wanted to escape all the addictions that had bound him. Without direction, he continued to run as much as possible to escape the pursuit of several people behind him. Even to the point of not being able to dodge until it hit pedestrians when passing through a fairly crowded sidewalk, and passing cars almost collided when he crossed the highway. His steps continued to swing quickly. No matter which direction he walked, until precisely that step seemed to lead him somewhere and make him surrounded. Right in front of him was a high wall blocking it with barbed wire protected on it. Meanwhile, the move was increasingly clearly heard coming to him. "Where do you want to run, huh?" The person just now did not hesitate to approach him who was already surrounded. Cold sweat oozes from his forehead. He was already cornered with a big wall behind him. "Want to deal with me, huh?" The person's hand stretched out tightly gripping the collar of the white shirt he was wearing. Even to the point of strangling him mercilessly. Meanwhile, he was only able to shake his head and again tried to swallow his saliva even with difficulty. The hand of the male figure in front of him stretched out and quickly gripped his neck until it suffocated and made him feel his veins weakening with the heart racing faster and faster. His eyes stared resignedly at the person, as if to imply that if you want to kill him, you should speed up. But unfortunately, the person in front of him actually seemed to enjoy how he was tormented by running out of oxygen that should flow throughout the body. A satisfied smile rose on one corner of the person's lips before everything turned dark and his body fell to the ground unconscious. Meanwhile, he felt everything stop. His heartbeat, the rest of his breathing, the pulsation in his veins, the time he had. Everything came to a halt... as if to die. Ah, poor Arial. 0o0 About wounds without relief lara. Trapped in a zone full of threats and terrible terrors. Without affection and only shadows. Without a word even to say hello. Together with unlimited solidarity, make it a priority to fight brutality. (Arial Bima Pradipta)