The armoured hearts

Painting of horror

"Okay..." The man said, turning to Porchay, their guns still on him. "Boy, we are here for you. Remember, someday people will come and bring you home."

Porchay just looked at them, silently, quietly, still terrified, but those words pushed at the front of his head one idea : they were here for Kim. They were here to get the boy who should have been living here. He wondered for five seconds if he shouldn't just tell them that it wasn't him and let them take Kim to save his life. His heart wanted to puke, he couldn't, he wouldn't. He couldn't let Kim be taken, he always told him that this house was dangerous, that the world was a horrible place, and he didn't want his first trust in someone to be an example of what he said.

One man sighed and reached Porchay with his hand, violently taking his wrist with enough strength to not hurt him but keep him without any possibilities of a way out. This touch was the action which brought back Porchay's voice. It was physical, he hated this, he felt stuck, he felt like not being able to breathe, the boy couldn't stand to be prisonned like this, to just have his muscles unable to move and that pressure, the pressure on his wrist, the friction on his skin. He was suffocating, and at the same he was responsible for that sensation. He began to resist, to try using his own strength, the power of his legs to stop the push towards, he was sure, a much more dangerous place than that house.

"Leave me alone!" He screamed, lowering their walk, but not escaping them. "Let me go! PLEASE!" Porchay screamed harder, his legs giving up, the man only trying to walk with a package behind it and nothing to do with a human. Porchay's eyes were blurry, he could only let his voice pierce the void of the silence, hoping to be heard, hoping to be helped, hoping to stay away, as much as he could, from those men. He was terrified and began to lose his energy, the more he cried, the more he resisted, the less he could do it, and they were near the door, and the outside looked like living that horrible painting and not just being an element of it, stable, which had gone through it. Here, he was just in time, in time for the painter to represent on a timeless canvas one event which provoked so much cries, but would not even surprise the one observing it after it all happened.

"Let me GO! Please!" Porchay continued, the frame of the door in front of him, his body just abandoning itself as if it was already dead.

Another scream came into his heart, Porchay's mind was teared up harshly by it, his view still blurry but his eyes focusing better. The first man was on the ground, shocking the second one who didn't immediately react.

Kim appeared in his landscape, angry, he knew Kim, he saw the face he had met the first time. The emotionless and scary expression which could, he thought, kill someone out of fear. He appeared with a big piece of wood in his hand, which soon was another time punching the man on the ground. He screamed so violently that it broke other cells in Porchay, his need to escape going back, he wasn't alone.

Porchay stood up, he wanted to act before the man would react. He needed to protect Kim from him and bit the man's wrist. He let go of the boy, screaming like his colleague before falling when Porchay ran into him with enough force to put them together on the ground. He secured the two guns. It was his most fearful nightmare but he couldn't really think in that situation and just threw them far away. Kim was hitting the same man, again and again, not looking conscious of what he was doing. His face now looked exactly like the bloody images Porchay had earlier.

"P'Kim! Stop!" Porchay screamed at him, and he got really startled when he immediately stopped and turned his eyes to the boy, the same scary eyes but which weren't that terrifying anymore for Porchay.

The boy felt his ankle being caught again by the other man, he could only turn his head, before the piece of wood was thrown at him, again and again, until Porchay put his hand on Kim's one, nodded and ran. He ran through the garden, and ran in fact with Kim, not letting him stay. Porchay's reflex came again, and he just jumped on the men's carriage. The other boy followed him.

Porchay turned his head to Kim. His face looked disoriented, but not of any hint of violence. Their hands were still intertwined when they moved the horses, their head spinning, their thoughts wondering, their heart pounding and their ears thought that it was hallucinating when meows could be analyzed by their alive and out of breath beings.