Not Above The Law. Flash Fiction. A Dedication to Frank Atanacio.

He just knew he had to hurt them; to make them suffer like Maria did. She was just sixteen years old and lying on a hospital bed, fighting for her life. They were cold, brutal, forceful and sadistic, those two men! They had abused her; beaten her up real bad and left her for dead.

For what? She was coming home from school, they had approached her for money, for other things not any parent child should hear. She had rightly refused, quickened her steps for home and they followed her on this dark rain-filled afternoon, battering her with vicious, shameful, physical force.

Silas paced up and down his daughter’s bedside, the rage, anxiety and inner torment beating on his body like hammer-blows; the emotional trauma stabbing him like a knife! She was his only child, and he was as fond of her as any father could be. Perhaps even more, as her mother, his beloved wife, had died giving birth to this sweet little beauty. But that’s another story.

Now all Silas could see was the bruised, battered, swollen face; the dishevelled hair, the contortion of pain on her face she felt especially down below, as she tried to speak beneath the oxygen tubing; the various drips flowing into her battered veins.

It was one week later. The gynaecologist said she’d live, but this was small comfort to Silas. A woman’s face was her charm, her charisma, her allure … they had taken away her dignity, her pride; self-esteem … what was she going to do now? How would they both cope? It could take years of psychological healing … if, she survived all this.

Silas just knew they had to pay; to burn …they had to hurt because it was not their first time; they had to hurt because they abused the law; their power … they had to hurt because of Amy and her mother, who both suffered the same fate. Just marginally luckier, if one can say that there are any comfort in these words.

Silas had seen his daughters tears, heard her screams … her longing to die … he was there when she was placed on ‘suicide watch’, and the emotional energy required to cope was now draining slowly from his exhausted body. He cried like his ‘baby’ did.

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Silas switched on the T.V next morning, making a deliberate attempt to listen to the news. The two policemen responsible had died that night. They were found clumped together in an alley way, not far from the City Centre; not far from the Jolly Pub which they frequently visited. Their heads were smashed in, and their bodies savaged by Pitbulls and numerous slashes of machete marks, which ran like the pool of blood, gleaming a dark sanguine hue around their naked bodies.

According to neighbouring accounts, those two heartless devils had begged for their lives. The Tower clock had just chimed ten and the two hitmen, who onlookers said had done the job, wore masks and simply vanished, like Time, into the silence of the night. Silas was satisfied, but still felt a loneliness in his heart. He returned to bed, more exhausted from grief and sorrow than anything else, and sank into sleep once more.

This time he had a visitation. A voice peered out of the darkness, and he saw a most illumining Light:

"I am the resurrection and the life; he who believes in Me will live, even if he dies, and everyone who lives and believes in Me will never die.” The Bible. John 11:25.

Silas awoke with a start. He was sweating, but this time he felt a strange serenity take hold of him. He was at peace and his thoughts clear. Getting down on his knees next to the bedside, he prayed not only for the recovery, but healing of his daughter Maria.

She came home three weeks later. She had a sweet, composed and elegant smile, and never looked more beautiful.

Manatita, The Lantern Carrier. ©Copyrighted, 28^th March, 2016.