Tribulation //RED QUEEN FANFICTION

6:Cracks

Thomas is trapped. He can't move on his own. There's bodies swaying him back and forth. If he stops they will just trample him into a bloody pulp.

If he could just roll into the smallest ball and wait for it to be over, he would. But this isn't like a bad dream. This isn't like a child that fears the monster in the closet. Because even if he closes his eyes, he can smell the flames and the smoke and he hears the shots and the yelling.

This is everything he was ever afraid of. This is everything his cowardly rabbit heart always tried to avoid.

There's some sort of firework send flying above his head and it hits a car.

Another shattering sound when a brick accompanies it.

He works his way to the side, stepping left whenever the smallest gap between hooded heads and elbows pops up.

What exactly has he hoped? He'd walk up to the scorching mess and find..? What? This is not some drama. He's not going to slow motion through this mess.

He finds it hard not to panic. The people are one being. An angry, snapping being. Claws extended, teeth pointy and ready to rip things apart.

He doesn't see any face he knows. But how would he with the chaos and the fog? Farley could be standing next to him and he wouldn't recognize her. He doesn't even recognize himself in the mayhem.

And then there's the howling of a siren again, closer this time. He can see something is going on on the other side.

He's not sure he wants to find out. He thinks of the video the day after they stormed that gathering in the dirty warehouse.

The blood and the screams. He knows this will be worse. Because people are fighting back. And they are much more than in that little room. It's not herding sheep anymore. This people reek of aggression. Even if they panic they will not just run.

Another firework send flying, red flaring, and it burns in his eyes because the sparks are too close.

When he finally has reached the end of the crowd, he sees he chose the wrong side. Towers are to the right, separated through the bodies and the fights.

Next he knows someone has pushed him. When he looks in the direction of the attack he sees people stumble.

It's a flurry. The crowd gets chopped in tiny pieces to weaken them.

It's the old tactic, overthrowing them, wearing them out. And people can only loose.

Someone hits his head and he goes down. Then he stays down while some uniforms and boots appear in his field. Next to him someone struggles and his hooded head hits the asphalt so hard there's blood.

Thomas lies down and tries to keep it together until he's cuffed and pulled up.

The cell is supposed to hold less people. It's clear by the way they are stuffed in, like they are still in the crowd. Worse. Because people here are bruised and battered and they are looking like chicken behind this bars.

Police is less than gentle. After he's stripped off any possession and they made sure to have his name, Thomas is lined up to be a fellow chicken. They just shove them in one after another.

It's a long night.

He sits on the ground.

This place smells of everything foul human bodies contain. Piss and blood and vomit and sweat. Stinging in his nose.

It reminds him of the night when his parents had to pick him up after he smashed the window. There was uncertainty. Asking himself if that was the right choice. But he was also angry and pretended not to give a fuck. This is indefinitely worse.