Old School Scribbles

Assange

He broke glass as he stumbled towards the door, what glass he didn't know... He stumbled on to the door, to cease the incessant banging upon the mahogany. Each pound setting off a gun shot inside his head. How he wished it were a gun...

He opened the door; "Julian... They're here," came his mother's apprehensive sigh. He knew they were here, the entire street knew they were here...

He'd been drinking heavily the night before; he knew it was only a matter of time before they came looking for him... The light that peeked from behind his mother's head burned his eyes, pain striking through him. He grunted a reply, made his way to the bathroom, and splashed water on his face. His white-blond hair fell around his face, water dripping off the loose strands, he looked himself in the eye.

"You've done it. You really screwed up now." He knew that last post would end him in deep water, in boiling, deep water, with an anchor chained to his leg, but... It was the truth.

People were being lied to, people were being hurt every single day, with awareness comes change... And things needed to change.

More banging at his door; this time, a uniformed officer. "Come with me" was all that was said by the stoic policeman, as he gruffly took him by the arm, and placed a pair of handcuffs on him. The metal stung at his swollen wrists, or the cuffs were too tight, he couldn't tell, either way he wanted them off.

"Whatever happened to not shooting the messenger, eh?"

"Julian be quiet, you're in enough trouble as it is..." His mother hissed as he was led out of the house, she hugged herself as she watched them take her baby away... "Jules..."

"Mum don't, I'm in enough trouble as it is." Venom laced his words as he spat out his retort. She recoiled back into herself, shocked at her son's reply.

"...I only want them to believe their eyes, mum," he softened, seeing the hurt in her eyes. The officer led him out, the cameras flashed in his face, his suburban home in Queensland now a feeding frenzy for the photographers.

"Mr Assange! Mr Assange! What were you thinking?"

"Did you have any thought for the repercussions?"

"What was going through your mind the moment you sent in that article?"

All the questions came at him as a roaring blur, catching snippets of remarks, the ends of statements, and the beginning of insults. He shouted to the crowd; "We all only live once. So we are obligated to make good use of the time that we have and to do something that is meaningful and satisfying. This is something that I find meaningful and satisfying. This is my temperament. I enjoy creating systems on a grand scale, and I enjoy helping those who are vulnerable. And I enjoy crushing bastards."