"911, what's your emergency?"

"Oh my god, oh my god," words came flooding out of Sophie’s mouth.

"Ma'am, what's the emergency?" the dispatcher asked.

"This kid—oh my god, h-he picked up a pipe and—and oh my god, he's murdering the guy!"

This wasn't supposed to happen. Sophie Lloyd came out for a simple smoke. For a couple of minutes of peace away from loud music and a wall of sweaty rhythmically swaying bodies . For a quick injection of nicotine fueled dopamine that paired so well with alcohol. That was all it was supposed to be.

She heard clacking on the dispatcher's keyboard before a calm voice spoke up again: "A child is hitting someone with a pipe?"

"Y-yeah," she choked out, sniffling. With the sleeve of her favourite 'going out' jacket, she wiped her nose, only then noticing that tears were streaming down her face. "I— the guy can't get up anymore, but I can't— I'm- I'm too afraid to intervene."

"Don't intervene, ma'am. What's the address of the emergency?"

"We're at The-" Sophie glanced at the neon sign of the building she was standing in front of. Even though she was here almost every weekend, her mind no longer remembered the name. "The Veil," she read.

"The police are on their way. Don't engage with the assailant, ma'am. What is the situation?"

"I don't know— I-I just came out to have a smoke and…"

Sophie moved the phone away from her ear and just sobbed. She couldn't avert her eyes. Every swing, every crunch of broken bones, every drop of blood that came flying out was carving deeply into her brain. She would never be able to unsee it.

Her wide eyes watched as the boy repeatedly hit a man, deaf to her screaming. The madness in his eyes sent a shiver down her spine. It was terrifying how much fury was erupting from a kid who couldn't be older than thirteen. In a trance he swung a dirty, rusty pipe with strength no one would expect from a person of his size. He was skinny and fairly short, and yet those thin arms overpowered a grown man.

And they swung. Again. And again. And again. A dull, wet thunk rung in her ears every time the metal met the man's flesh.

The man curled into a fetal position, arms shielding his face. Even from a few feet away, Sophie could see his bruised face. The streetlight exposed everything. Far more than she wished.The man's face was drenched in blood. It was swollen to the point where he could no longer open his eye. A deep gash split his brow, blood spilling into his blond hair, dyeing them crimson red.

"Ma'am. Ma'am. Are you there?"

Sophie moved the phone back to her ear. The dispatcher tried to get her attention, but their voice sounded muffled, like it came through thick glass.

"Ma'am!"

"Hurry! He'll kill him!" she screamed through the tears, her hand trembling so hard the phone barely stayed in her grasp.

"The police are on the way, ma'am. What's going on?"

Sophie flinched when a loud clunk of metal pipe bashing against bone, echoed through the quiet street. She let out a shuddered breath, her entire body shaking.

The pipe swung one more time, smashing the man right on the head.

The skull exploded, and bone fragments with brain matter shot onto the pavement.

"It's too late," she squeaked. "His head is..."

Her phone slipped out of her hand, hitting the ground with a thud. The screen shattered, but she didn't notice it. A guttural gag escaped her lips as her body bent in half. Her stomach twisted, forcing everything she had that day out onto the pavement.

She collapsed to her knees, one hand sinking in the vomit. The cigarette slipped out from between her fingers, hissed in the puddle and went out. The sour scent pricked at her eyes, but she didn't care.

It was already too late.