#sendprayers

Guys please, Mexico is suffering.

My sisters are being murdered, young girls are being raped, old ladies too, and babies.

Government isnt doing anything, they are covering up for the Policeman who raped a 17 year old girl a few days ago.

Many girls are reporting same situations

Mexico is in pain.

Feminist groups are painting, destroying among other stuff.

We ask for help.

We NEED help.

The people who should defend us, are becoming the ones who attack.

Justice should be done.

Please keep us in your prayers.

Picking up a flyer from a tattered lamppost, I stroked the lettering.

“Have you ever felt wronged by this man? Join our club!”

Dishevelled hair embellished a cheery smile that looked back at me through achromatic ink. An address and a time of meeting were written across the bottom. And of course I had to investigate this matter for myself.

***

Stepping into the makeshift warehouse, I noticed snacks of peanuts, cake and a weird jelly scattered around the table. Picking a slice of cake, coconut shavings hit the back of my mouth, not too sweet and yet surprisingly delightful. It was a meticulously crafted snack table, as if perfectly placed using set squares, protectors and dividers.

“I knew this was a bad idea...” a voice spoke from a door next to a desk of lined paper and meeting plans. Deep, yet very familiar. One that I had been entranced by from the moment I heard his speeches. This could be interesting...

“Hey! It’s our duty to find any unfortunate folk that had been victimised by that bandaged bastard.” This time a gruff voice spoke, almost trying to be intimidating. A man that could be more fun to play with than the prior.

A chuckle hummed across my lips as I sat down at the welcome desk, throwing my half eaten cake in the bin. Before me, the door creaked open. Giving my best smile to give off good intentions, I hoped to be welcomed by my new play things. It wasn’t as though I hadn’t been wronged by Osamu Dazai before. After all, I found it almost humiliating when he predicted my every move, to object to my well established ethics or putting all his energy into stopping my plans. It was exhilarating.

“Who the hell invited you?” Both of the men who stood in front of me took a stance, exerting what dominance they had over me. The blonde snapped out a paper, scrawling over it some kanji I wasn’t quite able to read. The redhead seemed to increase his weight, a large crater become very evident. His eyes narrowed as if to show a deep murderous intent that had emerged like a head forcing itself from the water’s surface after being pushed to the brink of drowning.

“Am I not welcome? I am just as much a victim as the two of you. Can we not put aside our differences? If a detective and a mafioso can get along, can a rat not join in the fun?” I closed my eyes, tilting my head to mimic a cutesy persona, though it seemed to do the opposite affect.

“You don’t know the years of tourment we’ve had to endure.”

“Do you know what it’s like to be constantly be put down by the person you’re forced to work beside?”

“What about having your entire day ruined because Dazai thinks it’s a great chance to try a suicide method?”

“Ever had to take the blame for a stupid stunt he thinks would work out just great?”

“The public humiliation?”

The two continued venting off their anger at me, making me wish I had brought my ground moulding subordinate so he could make me some tea as I stared to the trash can where that delicious moon cake lay.

“BUT THE WORST PART IS!” My eyes flickered back to the two, now only well synched tumultuous bellows.

“YOU TRIED TO KILL OUR LEADERS!”

‘Maybe I should come back another day.’