I look up at the poster, it's high on the wall so no-one can reach it. I wish I could tear it down and stamp out that smug fat grin, and set fire to that blonde hair that has been his trademark for so long now. I clench my teeth as my stomach tightens, the familiar knot of tension growing and growing.
"Dad, you're squeezing my hand, ow!" My daughter looks up at me, accusingly. The wind blows through her blonde hair, getting in her eyes. Blue eyes, you'll be safe for a while, if they don't force you to join the "constitution police". Rage is welling up again. Calm down, you're just taking an afternoon stroll with your daughter, there are still plenty of things to enjoy. Focus. Relax.
"Sorry dear, I didn't mean to." I notice that I'm still gripping her hand too tightly. She smiles as I let go of her hand, her gaze lingers slightly to long for comfort. Ah dear daughter, you may only be seven years old but you know exactly how your dad feels, don't you? I'm an open book to her. All my doubts and my fears, she knows them.
I notice the van coming into our street. It's not black, as you might expect from these people, just some harmless looking factory colour. It pulls up to the apartment block before ours and the men get out. Constitution police. My hart falls into my stomach again. They make their way through the staircase up to the first floor. I can see them knocking on the door once, then immediately kicking it in. They don't need to hide it anymore, do they? Two of them go in and come out with two women and an old man. It doesn't take a genius to figure out their origins. As the group rushes back along the corridor my daughters' hand seeks out mine again, now she's squeezing. You don't have to be an adult to sense the wrongness here, to feel everything holding it's breath, waiting for this to just go away.
And it goes away, taking three innocent people with them. We breathe again, though part of me wishes I didn't have to. I look at my little girl. She's puzzled and still looking down the road where the van drove off, seconds ago. I can almost feel her brain working, coping with what she just saw. "Dad?" She says it quietly, still staring. "Yes?" "That was bad, what those men did, wasn't it?"
"Yes, it was." And inside me, I ask myself where the hell I was. What did I do today to stop this from happening. I got angry at a picture. Coward. Am I? This is bigger than what just happened. They would have taken me, had I tried to stop them. How would I care for my daughter then? Coward. Excuses. Coward.
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