Rags Ch. 01

Oscar ambled slowly towards the taxi cab, his entire mind in a state of shock over the horror he had just witnessed. The long walk back made longer by the weight of the terrible tragedy behind him. It was better that way. Despite the flickering of blue and red lights, he knew it was better that he no longer had took back there.

He finally reached his cab and got in. He could no longer hold in the emotions. He cried. He cried hot tears for two little girls who had been caught up in the violence of the inner city. He cried for the mother whose life was cut unexpectedly short. She would never again see her daughter. She would never walk her little one down the aisle, would never get to see her blossom into a wonderful young lady. He cried for the little girl who was nowhere to be found. She was dead, or worse suffering unknown horrors herself at the hands of those who brutalized her mother. He did not want to think about the little girl and how she reacted when she saw what had happened to her mother. He cried for the lack of justice in such cruel fates that had been dealt this night to two homeless girls whose only plan was to enjoy warm meals and a comfortable bed. They were going to enjoy a happy and safe Christmas in warmth watching movies and having fun in their brand new clothes. There was no justice at all in the world. He cried.

Oscar slowly pulled the car out of the parking lot, desperate to get away from the awful memory of what he had just witnessed. He turned on his light, actually hoping for once that someone would flag him down for a ride. He needed a distraction with a desperation he had never before felt when he suddenly realized he was still crying. Though the sound was so unlike him, he made an effort to quit. It wasn't working, however. He didn't feel his throat vibrating like normally it did when he cried, and his vision was fairly clear. He was upset, but he certainly was not crying, or sniffling. Oscar's eyes flew open wide as he pulled into a strip mall parking lot and came to a screeching halt.

He flew out of the car as fast as his infirmities would allow and peered through the window into the back of his cab. Lying on the floor, covered in blood, was the little girl. He gasped in fright, the only white left to be found on the child was of two tear-filled eyes contorted in such unbearable agony that he was frozen in place. After a few moments, he looked back towards the hotel, then back again to the little girl.

"Good God, child," he whispered more to himself than the frightened, blood-caked little girl lying down in the back of his cab,"what living nightmare have you just walked out of?"