THE BROKEN DREAMS

Fred sat handcuffed to the hospital bed.

The fluorescent lights buzzed coldly overhead.

His ribs throbbed with every breath.

His throat was raw from smoke and shouting.

The officer, Inspector Leonard "Leo" Muriithi, stood tall —

around 6'3", dark chocolate skin, muscular, sharp eyes that missed nothing, mid-40s —

looking at Fred like he was trash.

> "You students think you're untouchable, huh?"

"Campus rich kids, burning buildings, selling drugs..."

"Pathetic."

Fred tried to speak, but all he could do was croak.

Leo snorted in disgust and turned to his assistant.

> "Take him to Station B when he's cleared medically. Let's see if a few nights in the hole will soften him up."

---

Hours later, after nurses — who whispered and stared — patched him up, a man walked into his hospital room.

Wearing a pressed white lab coat.

Professor Aaron Mwakazi.

Fred's Economics lecturer.

Always smiling in class.

Short-cropped hair, gold-rimmed glasses, late 30s, caramel skin, known for quoting Shakespeare and flashing designer watches.

Today, though, the smile was gone.

> "Fred..."

"You really messed up this time, boy."

Fred's heart pounded.

> "Prof, I swear to God— I didn't do anything! Someone—someone framed me!"

Aaron sighed, heavily.

Looked at the officers.

Then pulled a file from under his coat.

Tossed it onto Fred's lap.

Inside were photographs.

Of him.

Or at least, someone who looked like him.

Trading small packets for cash behind the music auditorium.

Blurry but damning.

Fabricated. Clearly.

But to anyone else?

It looked like undeniable proof.

---

Aaron leaned in close.

Voice dropping to a poisonous whisper.

> "You want to survive this?"

> "Then you'll do exactly what I say."

Fred stared at him, horrified.

Aaron smiled thinly.

> "Take the fall."

"Confess."

"Say you were acting alone."

> "Protect the school's reputation..."

> "And in exchange?"

Aaron's eyes glittered.

> "We'll arrange a 'plea deal.' You'll do some minor time, maybe a few months, then disappear quietly. A nobody. But alive."

> "Refuse..."

He glanced at the officer standing guard.

> "And you'll rot. Maybe even end up 'accidentally' dead in a holding cell."

Fred's heart shattered.

Everything inside him screamed to fight.

To scream his innocence.

But he saw it clearly now:

The university didn't care about him.

The police wanted an easy scapegoat.

The professors — the ones he respected — were snakes.

---

Alone in the Storm

When Aaron left, Fred curled up under the scratchy hospital blanket.

Trembling.

His mother's voice echoed in his head from years ago:

> "In this world, Freddy... no one will save you but yourself."

Tears burned his eyes.

He thought about J.J.

Was she safe?

Did she know what was happening?

He thought about his dreams —

his music competitions, his ambitions to one day build a sports center for poor kids.

All turning to ash.

Because in this world...

truth didn't matter.

Only power did.

---

Fred made his decision as dawn broke, a pale sickly light seeping into his sterile room.

He would play along.

Pretend to break.

Pretend to accept their deal.

But inside?

He would gather every scrap of strength left inside him.

Every ounce of hate.

Every whispered promise to himself.

And he would bring them down.

All of them.

No matter how long it took.

Even if it destroyed him.

---