Rogue Paths

I wake up to find myself handcuffed to the hospital bed. The drug they injected me with to tame me seems to be wearing off. Ugh! This again. Better to get it over with, I guess. I drag my free hand into my bun and retrieve a small blade. As usual the dumb police never bothered to check in there thinking a man’s bun would just be a fashion statement. I twist to my side and turn the blade in the keyhole clockwise. My hand comes free. I learnt to pick locks when I was young, one of my many talents. I shake my hand hard to get rid of the stiffness and get up from the bed. 

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The Household Problems

Tushar was your regular 16-year-old teen. He studied at a school near his home and walked to school every day. One Wednesday morning, there was a thunderstorm. It seemed to describe his mood better than he could. His parents were having another stupid and petty argument, while his grandparents had put on the television for the entire building to hear. With the amount of noise coming from their house alone, he wouldn’t be surprised if they won a prize for the noisiest household on the land. Along with all that, there was school pressure because their teachers were barely giving the children any time to study, and he couldn’t concentrate at home with the television turned on 24/7 at a blaring high volume.

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