'I am going to die.'
This was exactly what Eclair was thinking. Wearing a three-buttoned grey trench coat, a blood-stained slim white shirt and black pants a tad too large on the skinny detective. His chaotic thought processes were like a horde of animals being chased by predators. His thoughts ran wild, but he was still able to focus on this primary idea.
Eclair sat in a crouch, facing a rundown shack with its rotted wooden walls and rusty roof. He was bleeding so profusely that his hands, arms, and legs were painted a vivid red. Each breath hurt more than the previous as he fiercely gripped onto whatever life he had left.
"C-cant you contact anyone? Can you hear me?" he thought to himself.
"Listen, you're going to have to hide for a bit longer, Eclair, it's still out there," a voice mumbled anxiously in his mind.
He was relieved to hear this news, but that newfound joy was snuffed out by the shrill roar of a beast, a demented howl emanating from the darkness. He attempted to peer through the standing rubble he was hiding behind, but couldn't. Eclair was far too scared to look; his entire body, from the tip of his hair to the soles of his feet was warning him not to look behind him, to stay still, to stay quiet.
The beast could be heard all around him, but couldn't be seen at all. Eclair could only guess how far away it was. Using this assumption, he hid behind this specific piece of rubble, surrounded by darkness after blinding the beast's left eye.
"I really am a good shot," he quipped ironically.
"How did I even get here?" He let out a slight chuckle under this thought.
— — — —
March 25th, 2020
"State your name, date of birth, height, and weight," the officer ordered.
"Eclair Caspian, July 31st, 2003, I am 5'10, but I usually tell girls I'm 6'0," he snickered.
The officer instantly stood up from his chair, grabbed his black baton sitting on his desk, and swung at the adolescent.
"Ahh!" Eclair howled.
"You stand straight when you speak to me, boy."
Eclair fell to the ground and with a pained expression began to soothe and massage his back.
"Are you deaf? Stand up!" The officer screamed.
Impatient, he simply dragged the boy towards the line-up room. Each of them bore hateful expressions towards theother, like they wanted to disembowel his foe.
The room was 8 by 8 metres of plaster and the pungent smell of sweat. Eight men, varying from young to middle-aged, stood next to each other in a row. Each held a small-sized placard that detailed their weight, date of birth, booking ID, and other information relating to their identification. Eclair was placed at the left of these seven grown men, him being the youngest.
"Backs straight! Face forward!" the officer commanded as each man was photographed. Eclair was the last person to get his mugshot, he peered at the camera and with a subtle curve on his lip, he hoisted his middle finger to the cameraman whilst his photo began flashing.
"Eat my dick!" He laughed.
"You're fucking dead kid," the officer howled as he ran out of the anteroom and, with baton in hand, began to beat him, again.
Moments later, Eclair stood for his mugshot properly, admittedly a lot more bruised and swollen then he would have normally.
Eclair sat in a holding cell. With his black hair mixed with blonde highlights, he was naturally attractive; his jaw was defined and wide, but he disliked this feature due to his cheekbones being more exposed, making him look thinner than he was. His sharp gold eyes and bronze skin accentuated his mature look. He possessed a moderate frame, not that much muscle but he wasn't too skinny. Unfortunately, his dirty grey windbreaker and sweatpants weren't adding to his looks at all.
"When am I gonna get out of here, this stupid court date."
Eclair was going to court because of an incident a couple of days ago, while he was walking home to his 2nd floor apartment. He witnessed a murder, involving two people, a drug addict and a businessman. Eclair recalls the drug addict begging the businessman for money, for some unforeseen reason the trader kicked the beggar down and berated him for his poverty. The addict, in his rage, stabbed the man with a used needle 13 times in the neck and torso. When the police arrived, the killer was nowhere to be seen, only Eclair was found in the midst of the crime scene.
"No way they think... I done it? That I killed him? Me?" he laughed.
"No. Way."
Two days passed by in an instant
The day of his trial had arrived and he was taken out of his holding cell by two officers.