Board Thread:What Would You Do?/@comment-28718853-20190704110732/@comment-36855838-20190704132550

I look straight ahead.

"Yes, officer."

She crosses her arms, waiting.

I keep my hands on the steering wheel, knowing full well that mamono officers aren't violent, but years of conditioning to fear racial police violence are still ingrained throughout my soul.

"Well," she says, breaking my concentration on not panicking, "tell me what this is!"

I flinch, sweat rolling down my face, the world swims before my eyes.

"I'm p-putting my vehicle in park, o-officer," my hand shakes as I slowly move my arm, the scene of my brother in the morgue, riddled with bullet holes, back before the monsters came, comes to mind.

''The monsters. . .''

I look at her again, her long serpentine tail, her beautiful face, not full of malice or contempt, more of a motherly concern and disappointment.

My racing heart slows, my breathing eases.

She's a monster, everything will be alright.

"It's a method of birth control known as a condom, officer. The purpose for which I sell it is to help couples avoid having more children than they can handle."

She leans in, the chest of her uniform somewhat strained, and puts her arm around my shoulders, her lips so close to mine.

"Luckily for us, I can handle plenty."