We've been going at this for months. For terrible, burning, exhausting months. For beautiful, melodious, purposeful months. Months where I have felt emotions that I hadn't even known existed. Months where the lines between us and the outsiders were both more blurred than ever and more sharp than ever, as we all came together in solidarity.

So far everything's been going well. We've been hungry. We've been beaten and bruised and exhausted. But we've been winning. I just hope we can keep this energy up. I hope that our luck doesn't turn. 

I'm back at the front of the lines again, this time arm in arm with Sheila on one side and Sarah on the other. It's horrible, like it always is, being pulled at and yanked at and squeezed. It's violence but it's violence that I can handle. It's violence that I have handled before and handled well. It's not new to me anymore. Not that it hurts any less. But I'm confident I can take it. 

Still, it's so strange being beside Sarah, being beside a mere child of twelve years old, and seeing her go through the same violence that I'm going through, that we're all going through. She deserves to be at home playing. She deserves to be having safety and fun, without a single care in the world. She deserves that, but she insisted that she doesn't want that. She insisted that as long as there is a battle to fight, she'll be fighting in it. 

I can't worry too much about keeping her safe though since I need to focus on keeping the formation safe. Still though, her standing there beside me, arm in arm with me, it absolutely haunts me. 

So far nothing out of the ordinary has happened. It's being annoying. This whole ordeal is being annoying. But still, we are only standing up against Baltstone thugs and we are only taking what they've been giving us these past few months. There is violence. Oh definitely, there is violence. But it's not nearly as violent as it could get. No-one is getting seriously hurt. 

I think the presence of the outsider rainforest defenders is playing a big part to this lack of violence. They're the kind of people this society actually likes. There's only a certain amount of violence that can be used on them. 

I'm being pulled at and squeezed and squished. My muscles are burning, my joints are burning, everything is burning. But it's okay. I can take this. 

The men finally back off and leave to go regroup. I breathe a sigh of relief. 

"I hope they're gone for a while," Sarah speaks. 

"Oh, I hope so too," Sheila replies. "I hope we can get some rest."

"And to be honest, they probably need some rest too," I add in. 

We keep talking, alert for any sign of the men coming back or anything weird happening. It does seem, however that the men are going to stay away from us for a while.

This fact does not give me peace. I do not know why they are not coming back. I do not know what is coming next.

"Good job, guys," Sarah comments to us. 

"You're the one who's out here despite being twelve," the outsider beside her, Rachel, replies. 

"Let's just hope we can stay out here for longer," I speak. 

"Whatever comes next, I'm sure we can take it." Sheila's voice is sure and strong. 

We keep talking until we see the flashing lights of a police car come up in the distance. This is not good. Not good at all. But still, we have taken on the company thugs. The police cannot be much worse. We can take them on as well. What are they going to do to us, kill us? They're not allowed to do that anymore. And they're definitely not allowed to do that in front of our outsider supporters. We're not in more danger than we already were in. If they teargas us, we can take the stinging and the burn and we can stay strong through it. 

We all bring ourselves closer to each other, holding on to each other tightly. This is, very probably, the final round of our battle. After that, we need to keep a lookout for any intruders. But we can rest easy. 

The police cars slow to a stop in front of us. Like well-coordinated soldiers, the police come marching up to our lines. They have pure hatred in their eyes and disdain all over their faces. They have guns on their hips and body armour over their chests. They make me shiver ever so slightly. 

"What do you guys think you are doing?" A muscular, well-built cop demands of us. 

"Protecting the rainforest," Sheila declares back. 

"You're holding up our economy is what you are doing." The cop spits these words out with rage and contempt. 

"We're saving our world!" A female outsider retorts. 

"Saving the world?" the cop spits, "Preposterous nonsense!" 

"We're the ones who know the truth," Sheila responds. "You are blinded by your greed and ignorance."

"You are simple, stupid people," the police officer barks, "and you do not know anything. You especially do not know how this civilization runs!"

"We know how the rainforest runs, and what the rainforest needs." Sarah's voice is clear and unafraid. "We know how humanity runs and what humanity needs. And humanity needs the rainforest."

"You fools!" the cop bellow, "Especially you, child, how could you know anything about how the world works?!"

"She knows more than you ever will," Sheila states. 

"And we all know more than you ever will," I add.

"You are blinded by your sentimentality and your emotion," the cop spits back. 

"You are blinded by your greed and by your complacency," I retort.

"You have to leave." His voice is dead serious, like a cold stone. 

"We won't." Sheila's voice is equally serious. 

"I'm telling you," he presses, "go. Get away from here and let the company through before you all get in trouble."

"We don't care how much trouble we get into," Sarah exclaims, "you cannot make us move. Isn't that right, everyone?" We all cheer. 

"Get out right now before I am forced to do something you'll all regret!" the cop screams. 

"No," Sheila simply states. 

"Get out. Right now. Go away." 

"No," she states again. 

"Don't make me do something I will regret," he presses. 

"We won't move." Sheila's voice holds no fear. 

"You obstinate children!" The police officer yells. 

"You fat fucking pig," Sheila replies calmly. 

Everything happens all at once. The cop reaches for the gun on his hip. Sheila's eyes go wide. Before any of us can do anything, he shoots. Sheila slumps back, all the strength having left her body. And everything inside me goes red. Everything around me goes red. 

Before I even know what I am doing, I am on him, my hands around his throat. There is nothing I can think except for the fact that Sheila is dead. Sheila is dead. Sheila is dead. My best friend is dead. There is nothing I can do. Nothing except reap bloody vengeance. 

My hands are around his throat. Around the capitalist fucking pig's thick, meaty throat. And I am squeezing. I'm squeezing with all my might. I'm squeezing with strength I didn't even know I had. And he's struggling underneath me, trying to pry me off. But all his muscles are no match for my overwhelming grief, no match for my sheer rage. 

"Die, die, die, you capitalist goon!" I scream at the top of my voice. And I squeeze tighter. And eventually all his struggling stops and he goes limp underneath me. 

I look around. Everyone is simply staring at me, forest defender and police officer and company thug alike. They're all staring at me as if they are in a trance. And I feel like I am in a trance. But all too soon, the spell breaks. 

The police pile on to me, all of them at once. And they push me face first into the hot, rough asphalt of the road. There is overwhelming pressure above me on my back as my arms are pulled together and put in handcuffs. I fight. Of course I fight. But there are four cops on me. I can't take them all at once. There is yelling all around me, from the police, and from the onlookers. There is yelling all around me but I cannot listen to it. 

All I can think of is the fact that Sheila is dead. Sheila is dead. The young woman who played with all the children in the village and entertained them. The woman who spent long nights staring up at the stars with all of us. The person who had so much spirit and so much hope and so much rage to share with all of us and with the world in general. The woman who knew where to find what plants in the rainforest, and who wasn't afraid to kill something if she needed to. That woman was gone. Gone forever. 

A police officer slams my head into the road. And my whole world goes white in searing, aching pain. My head throbs and my nose feels like it has been snapped into two. It probably has been. My whole face flows hot like magma in the hurt. 

I am dragged into the back of a police car. And the door slams shut above me. Before I know it, we are driving away. Away from the village and away from all the people who are mine. 

———

The jail cell they put me into isn't terrible, I will admit. It's bare, with one metal shelf on one side that serves as a bed, a few blankets softening the hard metal. There is a small bathroom parted by a curtain. And there isn't really anything else. But it's clean, and nobody bothers me. 

But the problem is that I'm alone. I'm so alone and all my thoughts are flooding through me absolutely out of control. They're out of control and all I can do is drown in them. All I can do is let them overwhelm me like a hurricane ripping through my mind. There is no one to talk to. No-one to give me comfort. No-one to ease my grief and my sorrow and my anxiety.

I think about Sheila, about how much I miss her, about how empty I am without her. About how much I'm sure everyone misses her. I think about how horrific and unjust her death was. About how much the world will miss her kind, passionate, amazing presence. I think about how it's unlikely that my people could hold a funeral for her, given that they still have to fight the mining company. And I think about how grief must weigh heavy on everyone's hearts. 

I think about whether my people are still able to fight. I wonder what the police have done. I wonder if they have killed anyone else. I wonder if they've mowed down our ranks one by one until there were none of us left to oppose them. I think about how determined we were to fight no matter that the cost was. I wonder if we are still fighting, if we are still able to stay strong, if we are still protecting the rainforest against whatever the police and the company are doing to us. 

I think about what will happen to me, after my trial is over. I murdered a police officer. Well, murder is not the right word. But I definitely did kill a police officer. And multiple witnesses saw it. I'll be going to jail for certain, there is no doubt about that. But will I be in jail forever? Will I ever see my people again, will I ever get to go home again? Will there even be a home left for me to go back to once everything is said and done? 

I don't know. I don't know, I don't know, I don't know. All I do know is that I can hope. And I can pray. 

So, sitting on the ground with my head looking up towards the Creator, I do pray. I pray that Sheila has been returned to the rainforest from which she came. I pray that she has gone back to her origins, and is part of the flow of life within the rainforest now. I pray that my people can win against the government and the mining company. I pray that we can keep the rainforest safe. I pray that no-one else had to die from the invaders' wrath. And I pray for myself, too. I do pray for myself, but mostly I pray for my people. That they're safe. That they're fighting. That they're winning. And I pray for the rainforest. 

I think the Creator can hear me. Even though there is thick concrete between myself and the sky, I am sure that the Creator can hear me, that They can see me, that my prayers will not go unanswered. Praying gives the world strength. It gives the Creator strength. It gives the Creator strength so that the Creator can give us all strength and help us. Praying puts cosmic energy out into the world, that helps the world to be safe and healthy, that helps the world to commit revolution. 

So I am helping my people. Even if I can't be on the front lines with them right now, I am still helping them. 

"Terry La Croix, you are called for the evening meal," a rough voice outside the door says, pulling me out of my thoughts for a moment. I get up as my cell is opened and guards escort me to the eating area. 

The room is large. There are tables all over, each table lined by two benches on either side. There is a lineup of people with trays getting food, snaking around the corner along the wall. I join the lineup, and get a heap of the strange brown mush that everyone else is getting. I go to a table and put a spoonful in my mouth. The food is strange and bland, but that's okay. I don't mind. 

"What's your name?" the girl beside me asks in a cheerful voice. 

"Terry. What's yours?"

"Bright. So what are you in here for? If you want to talk about it, that is."