Excitement rapidly deteriorated into chaos and confusion. What was meant to be a peaceful demonstration had turned into a mass melee. All around me was a living river. A river of people, with emotions running high. The sound of glass breaking and swearing reverberates through the air. In the central plaza, the riot police are preparing a brave last line of defence against the torrent of people advancing towards them.
I feel cold fear embrace me with its icy grip as I watch the anger scarred across the rioters' faces, their shadows melding together to form a many-headed monster, causing grief to everything in its path. The nauseating smell of burning rubber mixed with the pungent stench of petrol almost overwhelm me as I try to break from the mob and find a safe heaven. The riot police brace themselves, for the crowd is nearly upon them, their polished nightsticks gleaming eerily in the soft moonlight. The moon itself sits benignly in the sky, so peaceful in contrast to the madness raging below it.
The first wave of rioters hit the police like a brick wall. The police have underestimated the strength of people united, united… and angry. The troopers, although surprised at first, quickly manage to recover and attempt to close ranks, but it is too late, the monster has gained a foothold.
I feel many hands on my body; the sensation is choking, violating my sense of self. My fear is increased tenfold as I now see fear in the visored faces of the police. I now frantically search for a way out, a chance to make my escape from the madness. I hear the distinct crack of tear-gas rifles, like incensed wasps they fall amongst us. The foul gas is stealing my breath, draining my eyes. I stumble forward and hear the sickening crunch as a nightstick makes contact with my head. A moment later I feel it, and all fades into dark.
I awake in a pool of my own blood and vomit, I groggily lift my head. The many-headed monster has turned into many confused and frightened people, escaping the victorious law. Shots ring out, and I am struck in the chest. The rubber bullet winds me and I decide that I have to make my break now if I am to avoid further damage.
I stagger behind the front lines, my hands held high, palms free, and surrender to the nearest officer. I am cuffed and booked. A small price to pay in exchange for my life.
