The Streets

Chapter 6: A Wicked World...

I trip on the torn up flooring in the run-down station, as I am led along a crammed corridor. Suddenly, a sickening thought struck me in my gut... My guitar! The policemen certainly hadn't put it inside their car as I was taken away, so what on earth had happened to it? My stomach churns as I go over the tragic consequences...
A sickly yellow door is opened for me and I, along with the suited businessman, whom I had began to call Brute, from his sheer brutish looks and actions, and the homeless, old man, who's name was Bill, entered a small office-type room. A man sat at the desk, one leg crossed over the other, casual. His hair was shining black, and simply immaculate. He sat up straighter in his chair as we all entered, and the escorting officer started talking to him out of earshot, often shooting distasteful looks in our direction. As their conversation came to an end, the man lazily turned his chair to face us.
'So,' he said in a clearly bored voice. 'Which one of you caused the disruption back in the street?'. Both me and the 'Brute' began to talk but he held a slender finger to silence me. It was clear who's side he was on.
Brute, as I assumed, was all brawn and no brain. On the journey, he had plotted a ludicrous story featuring me stealing money from the old man, forcing him to intervene. I had supposedly used enough force upon him, enough that he had to charge at me to take me out. I was an 'immediate threat'. All the while, the lazy man, who had a name badge with the saying 'Daniel Norton', nodded his head, as though believing every word Brute said. Mr. Norton did seem like a wealthy man, with his dark suit, and silver Rolex watch. From the position of a rich man, out of a smartly suited man who looked like he could strangle you at any moment or a ragged homeless man, with a dirty face and torn clothes, who would you choose? Now, my only hope was the victim himself: Bill...
Throughout the time that Brute was lying to Mr. Norton, it was clear that Bill did not approve of this senseless excuse. He was rocking back and forth, wheezing 'No' over and over and over. I took pity on the old man... As I was first saw the traumatic events from the café window, I could see his hastily written sign. It explained how he was cast from his home due to his disability... Only now did I realise that there were others like him. As unlucky as him. Brute finally finished his spin-off tale of the original story, and smirked secretly at me. He made me sick... Mr. Norton pointed at me.
'You. Homeless man. Tell me what you thought happened.' In a quieter voice, he added, 'Not that you can provide anything else besides blatant lies...'
I daring,y shot him a sour glance,before speaking.
'I was in the café at the time, discussing business plans with a new acquaintance of mine. Would you like me to provide his name for proof?' I asked sarcastically, something I would definitely not do if he hadn't been so awfully irritating. He smiled, and said sternly, 'No, that will be okay.' I started again.
'In between our discussion, I heard a loud thud against the window of the café. Looking outside, I saw this... 'Man', pushing poor Bill over there into the window!' I had urged myself not to say Brute...
'The crowds were just watching; I had to do something... I went out into the street and returned the Bill's collected money to him, and attempted to help. Just as this man charged at me, your team so kindly intervened. I know Bill is disabled but as the victim here, I am sure he will approve of my story.' Bill nodded in the corner of the room.
'You may stop taking now. I have heard enough,' decided Mr. Norton. He paced around his office.
'To me, it's clear who is telling the truth and who is being truthful in this situation.' He gestured to Brute.
'Why would a man of such evident stature risk his entire reputation for a disabled homeless man? I hope you see my point. Therefore I am sentencing you to a fine of £500.00 for abuse and most likely theft of 'Bill''s hard-earned money. You will also be kept in the cells here for the night. Someone could pay the fee for you, but to be perfectly honest, I am not sure who will!' He gave a wicked laugh, and I was led out of the room, shocked. How would I pay for this? I would have to sell something... The only thing I could think of was my guitar, yet that was probably long-lost now. I collapsed to the ground, readying for another phase of deep misery in my unfortunate life...