The Red in My Lens

“You should stop. You’ll get yourself in danger.”

They protested. I need to fight for what’s right. If I won’t, then who will?

“Don’t you know what you’re getting into?”

I’ve held the camera in my hand tighter. Of course, I know.

At least, I used to.

I’ve longed to stare ahead. The stained concrete floor met my gaze. Everything else seems so blurry - I couldn’t seem to pinpoint what to do once done with this.

I’m…at loss.

Sure, getting caught was to be expected.

How come my brother faced death instead?

A decade we worked together as journalists, being on the frontlines is what we’re used to. Yet the moment we went out and about for a cup of nightly coffee, they were to take him so easily away from me. We were yet to publish a case regarding extrajudicial killings. Being the next possible victim was the last thing on our minds.

I dropped my coffee that specific evening. I couldn’t think straight, nor look straight. I was exhausted, confused, in fear – all of those mixed into one persona. My unsteady breathing certainly didn’t help, nor are the red stains in my camera.

Brother, I fear the end. You didn’t. You were ready regardless of uncle’s warnings. I however,