Desperate Commissioner

It was an ordinary day, I’m a commissioner, a commissioner who was in a rush with murder. My day passes with murder and corpses. Our office; narrow, small, painted light blue and consisted of about tree table and chair sets.

 

 I had a son and two daughters, if I could call that son my son now. He was a teenager who ran away from home, I thought he would eventually return, but when he didn’t, it wasn’t a joke. The person standing in front of me, riddled with holes, asked a question, “What’s your final decision?” Standing in front of me was my son, who had the title of the biggest killer of the region. I’m so surprised. I didn’t know whether to release him or arrest him. The deputy commissioner came behind me and asked me what I was doing. I was staring. I couldn’t do anything, was it indecision? Was it sadness? Or was it disappointment? The person I called my son had disappeared from my sight. The deputy commissioner took me somewhere to talk to me. I told him everything that happened. Then the next day and the days after that there were no incidents, no one to chase, no issues to deal with. I thought of it as God’s given time for me to think. I had days to think. At first, I requested tree days off from my manager, and he accepted. During my leave, there was a knock on my door, and there was my son, whom I shot four days ago. I thought I should help him. I took it home and made something hot. But when I looked at him, I saw neither my son nor a ruthless murderer. I couldn’t control the tears in my eyes when he said “Dad…” to me. After a while I started laughing. I was laughing at my own stupidity. It turns out that the assistant commissioner I trust told everyone everything. I don’t know how many people were secretly waiting around my house and watching me. They stood at my door and took my son.

 

I’m out of my job, I can’t say that my son is out of his life, he had turned into a murderer whose hands were smeared with blood. When the judge asked me, “How many years do you think?” I hesitated and remained silent. I found myself behind the door with my tears And in front of me was my son who left the court with three cops around his hands in handcuffs. He left without saying anything to me. I lost my son from my life. The murderer lost his freedom.

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