Page 13 of Unexpectedly You
A car turning illuminates the alley, and I recognise that too-light jeans jacket and the curly hair that sticks out from under the grey hoodie. That hand that was on mine earlier is now trying to push away the other body without success. The act makes me sick, and sparks a fire stronger than the one already boiling inside me. The rage, coming from my poor childhood, is nothing compared to what’s burning inside me right now.
I lose myself in the fury rising like a tide from deep inside me, and charge forward while I watch as the massive guy forces himself on that boy who’s unable to fight back. More gagging sounds fill the air while he tries to free himself. I watch as the assailant pulls on the boy’s hair so he can push even deeper and probably cut off his air flow.
My throat constricts, as if a boa is wrapping around it, while I remember what it means not to be able to breathe.
I watch his hands fly around before gripping the other man’s thighs, but like broken wings they can’t help him to get free.
The closer I get, the clearer the vision becomes. The tears fill his eyes and run down his cheeks, igniting my need to inflict pain on his tormentor. Igniting the need to pull him away and then beat the shit out of him.
I’m on them even before I process the danger I’m placing myself in. Everything goes red when the smaller guy hits his head onthe wall behind him at the powerful thrust of the other man. The cracking sound is both sickening and enraging. I witness the brutal motion behind those movements, the pursuit of his own pleasure, and the lack of interest for the suffering of the other person.
My past and his present mingle, and the repressed emotions come with a need for revenge. I don’t care that he’s someone I don’t know. Right now, he’s the enemy, an enemy I want to destroy.
Muffled cries come from the abused man, and something I thought I’d grown out of overpowers me. I become my younger version, that boy needing to make others suffer like he’s suffering, only this time my need to annihilate has a target. I rush forward, because I despise his behaviour.
I’m tired of this world where people look the other way and injustice prevails. When I’m close enough I punch the man on the side of his face, powerful and uncontrolled, aiming to make it count. I force him to let go and then I rip him away with all my strength. Satisfaction fills me when his head bangs against the opposite wall.
I don’t care what happens to this fucker, he’s just having his fill of karma. I’m not satisfied, though, so I punch him in the face another couple of times, happy only when bones crack under my fists.
Whimpers of pain attract my attention, and my need to inflict pain dissolves like snow under the sun. I turn to the injured man and crouch down so that our faces are nearly at the same level.
I take him in, noticing that even with the injuries on his face he looks beautiful. He reminds me of some pictures I’ve seen of fallen angels.
I stop his body from slamming to the ground, and instead I lay him down gently on it. I wish I had my jacket now to place it under his head. I use my phone to shine some light on him. His breathing is shallow, and his lips are red and broken, and tears keep falling from his eyes. The ugly monster living inside me takes over once again and I turn back to the other man. I want to do my worst, but he’s not where I left him.
I ponder whether I should run after him, beat him up a little more, maybe a lot more, until he’s begging for me to stop. And then maybe call the police. I stand up, ready to go after the bastard and make him pay. My hands flex at the idea of punching him a couple more times, but a whimper from the body on the ground gets my attention.
My boy looks beaten up and fragile.My boy?!
It’s way too early to be this possessive.
He looks like someone who needs to be taken care of. And it’s a shame I’m the one helping him, because I’m not someone who takes care of others.
His eyes are closed and his breath is coming out in short pants, as if he’s finding it hard to get air into his lungs. Part of his face is turning dark from the bruises, and blood streams down the side of his face like a sad tear.
I breathe like a bull ready to charge his opponent. I want to leave his tormentor on the ground and with the same amount of injuries on his body. Maybe a few more, so he won’t do this again.
His eyes blink open, just to close again.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
His mouth opens and closes a few times but no words come out, so I place my hand on his and gently caress his skin.
“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.” What the fuck am I saying? “Let me call an ambulance.” They’ll take care of him.
His face goes even paler, tears stream down his cheeks even more, and he tries to push me away, but there’s no strength behind it.
“What the fuck did you do to Jay?” The scream coming from behind me makes me jump, and turn around. I move my body back just in time to avoid a punch in the face.
“Hey,” I say while standing up. This guy is even smaller than my boy…My boy?I shake my head; it’s getting worse. He’s smallerthan Jay, and a tad more feisty. “I didn’t do anything to him. Someone was hurting him and I jumped in.”
But he’s not listening, and he keeps shouting at me, but at least he’s stopped trying to punch me. He pushes me to one side so he can check on Jay.
I unlock my phone and dial the emergency number, but before the call engages my phone is snatched away from my hand. I stand up, ready to fight with the smaller man to have it back, but his next words stop me.
“You can’t call the ambulance. They’re going to call the police and we can’t have that.”
“Why not. He was assaulted.”