You saw him in handcuffs, and thats when you just knew

he had to be helped.

It had been raining all day, though it let up when the sun went down. The night was long, as considerably long as the day before it had been. Red and blue lights cavorted across the night sky and the buildings surrounding it. You remember seeing an obscene amount of blood on the pavement below as several men in uniform struggled to keep him down, slamming his face into the car hood, shouting random lines that sounded vaguely like the Miranda rights at him.

They hadn't been there long, only the past half hour. You had seen what happened.

Apparently this guy got into a scrap with some other dude, and now this guy they got was being handcuffed for disturbing the peace. The other dude who had started it had gotten away, but not completely. You had seen some other officers leaving to search for him, sirens blaring and disappearing into thin air.

This guy wasn't off the hook, obviously.

You had seen it happen. You were in there having a couple drinks when the scrap started. The other dude wound up getting a good couple swipes at his face using some sort of pocket knife, and this guy was fighting back. He picked up his attacker by the scruff of his neck and tossed him into the wall of liquor behind the bar. It didn't end there. They continued breaking property, throwing each other against tables, ceiling fans, using chairs as battering rams, the whole nine yards. The other dude even bashed and broke a beer battle to use, but that was when the cops arrived. He fled for his life, and this guy almost ran after him but the police showed a swift end to that.

And now here you are, a witness in question, eyeing a dangerous human being who was being handled none-too-softly.

You saw his eyes and they locked on to yours. His black hair was smeared with his own blood, his busted lip bleeding and the message in his eyes told you to run. Don't look back. Don't get involved. He was already really fucked up, there was no reason for you to be a part of this.

Something in you...snapped.

Like, the fear that gripped you from staring into his angry eyes did not make sense. The idea that you should probably stay behind this caution tape and be a good citizen and witness and put this man away before he can hurt anyone else...did not occur to you. Those eyes told you of something far greater than yourself, something you had no control of, but damn it if you didn't want a taste of this amazing chaos. You didn't feel like yourself at all.

In that instant, you cut your eyes at him, flipped your hood up over your eyes, and pulled your shirt over your mouth. You bided your time for a while, pacing through the gathering crowd, watching the cops slip the boy into the car, and head inside to investigate, to question. Silently, you slipped over to the back door of the car and opened it. The bleeding boy stared at you silently, confused. Your first moments with him were spent in silence as you eyed each other. Before you forgot your purpose, you urged him forward, and so he followed, hands still bound behind his back.

Without closing the door, you and him ran as fast as you could without looking back. He huffed and cantered awkwardly before giving a surprised gasp. Gunshots rang out, and one of the bullets grazed your ankle. You cried out, but did not slow down, instead speeding up, adrenaline making it so you could only hear your heartbeat. The ice in the air cut at whatever exposed part of your face it could touch, your chest heated up your entire body as your legs and arms threw you headlong out of harms way. You felt your companion by your side, pushing you on, urging you. He even spoke for the first time. His first words to you were

"Don't you dare look back."

As your breathing became audible, you heeded his warning. The sirens were coming. They were closing in. The boy behind you looked over his shoulder, disobeying his only command, before he threw himself at you to guide you a different direction. You stumbled, almost tripping over your own legs, but followed him. He seemed to know what he was doing. Gunshots rang out closer and closer, you could swear you were going to die, or were going to jail. There was literally no turning back now.

You were running out of breath, no end to this chase in sight. The will to keep running was there, the capacity to do this was not. You stumbled and landed into a fresh puddle. As you were picking yourself up, you looked up to your rescued captive, and collapsed into the water. The last thing you heard was more gunshots, and muffled profanity from the one person you were trying to save.

You couldn't help feeling that next time

you should probably just butt out.