You.
Help me.
Talk to my family.
Tell them that it is not my fault.
I hold your hands and plead for help.
There are people after me.
The gunshots you heard were for me.
Yes, those who are trying to shoot me down are outside, searching the neighbourhood. Its good that this room has no lights. Shadows can be dangerous. My sister is packing some emergency rations for me in a bag - food, clothes, cash and other essentials. I need to flee this city, the state rather, and do this in the cover of the night. Once I board the train, I might be safe.
Nobody wants a bullet in their skull. I am no different. I do not possess the luxury of time and a common language to explain you the situation. Would you like to come along? They would not shoot an outsider! Yes! This is perfect. You come and I will be safe. Can’t you see I am pleading? Come!
Oh you coward! I am wasting my time asking you for help. Why would you help me? I am nothing to you. This is not your problem, it is mine. The sweat, the blood, the fear, the anxiety, the trauma, the fault, the righteousness… all mine. I cannot depend on you. You will probably be a liability. I doubt you would last a day in the jungle I have to wade through to reach the station undetected.
I am out of time. Hear those cars circling the neighbourhood? The locals are afraid. They have locked their homes. Why would anyone want to be a part of this? When it comes down to hunter and hunted, the crowd becomes a bystander. Nobody wants to be caught in the cross fire.
My own family wont hide me. Chances are that nobody will come and check here, but who would take that risk? Let me ask you something. Are you afraid? You need not be. They are not looking for you. They are not robbers. They are not the rebellion. They are hunters. They have found me guilty and I am to be dealt with.
Bye stranger, pray for me. Pray that it is not a dead man walking that you met on this fateful night.