Coming Home Lukas

The city was quiet this time of night, sleeping away the night just like everyone else. Rain drizzled down onto me as I walked home.
I turn down the street when i hear a strange noise. It almost sounded like a wild animal's cry. Confused, I decided to ignore it. Not more than a couple seconds later though, I hear the noise again. An animalistic scream coming from an alley across the street. I cross, my hands shaking a bit, and what i see makes my heart stop cold.
Two boys are standing in the darkness, dressed in gang clothes, and bearing knifes. The creature huddled beneath them whimpers while the boys slice it's face and laugh. That's when it stands up. It's another boy, shorter than the other two. Skinnier too. Begging and stepping backwards, the boy is stabbed again, under the ribs. His scream rattles me out of my shock, and as he falls unconscious on the moist ground, I step into view. I wasn't sure what I was doing, I wasn't used to seeing activity like this outside of the occasional news story.
More than anything, I wanted to walk away. I wanted to forget the scene in front of me and leave. But I couldn't. I couldn't be that horrible person who didn't care. So instead, I approached the two teenage boys. And that's when my life changed forever.
The sound of my footfalls stopped their laughter and the only noise audible was soft rain hitting the ground. One boy, he looked maybe 17, pushed himself off the wall and stood in a defensive way. The second boy looked at me, then back at the first, worry glinting in his eyes.
"Can we help you with something, dude?" The boy's breath smelled strongly of smoke and alcohol it was disgusting.
"I don't want any trouble, just leave the boy alone."
"Or what," he sneered, " you gonna call the cops?"
Just then an idea made itself known in my head. "Actually boys," I smirk, "I am the cops." The look of fear in their eyes would have made me laugh, had the situation be like this. They quickly run in the opposite direction, pushing each other to try to get away. I get my phone out and immediately dial 911. The lady on the phone calms me down, saying there was help on the way. I look at the boy's tiny form curled on the ground. His clothes were torn and he looked only 16, 17 at the most. He was so pale he glowed in the darkness of the dark alley.
About 20 minutes later, around midnight, the bright lights of an ambulance shine on the street. A women rus up with several men following closely. They pick up the boy and carry him into the truck. I jump in as well, just to find out what happens to him. As I look down at the boy, bloody, beaten, and half dead, I a single thought ran through my head. I know who this is.