stabbed

Normally I wouldn’t care… Normally… Then again… normally wasn’t something I was good at…

Come to think of it, there is nothing I am good at. This has been my trait – ever. I looked back at them. I tried to look evil, mean, I tried to convince myself; I thought I did a good job at it, until I saw one of them smirking back at me, winking. That was outraging. I fumed inside, I groaned and moaned. I wanted to rip him apart, tear his limbs from his body whilst indulging in his pain and agony. But I couldn’t. Yet another restraint. I had – again – to let them walk over me.

For what, I couldn’t tell you. Maybe conditioning, maybe self-preservation, maybe comfort. I don’t have the slightest idea. But they did; and how much they enjoyed it as well, how they gloated and cherished the fact. I don’t know if they knew or they just did it, but it worked miracles in this case…

Then suddenly, something snapped. Something gave way. This is how dogs feel when you take the leash of them. I stood up and stretched, like I have never before. I felt angry, violent and alone. Nothing new there though. I walked behind them, almost thought I was stalking them, but in fact I was far from it. Heavy footsteps, sure and loaded – everyone could hear.

They turned around, stared at me. I was hoping for fear and respect in their eyes; that would have calmed me down, would have allowed me to move on. Instead what I saw was disdain, frustration (to what, really?) and hostility. The hair at the back of my neck could be the thorns of a mexican cactus for all I could feel. There was no turning back now. I contemplated on the fact of going after them in the first place, but as the first made a move towards me, that thought went scrambling in the back of my conscious…

Something familiar, something that felt like the touch of a loving mother took over; the cold, emotionless, calculative film that always took over when I was about to go into a fight. Panic, fear, pain were all kept at bay; only pity was allowed, pity for the weak; unfortunately, that was never me… Before the second step I knew how. They were too many, and I knew nothing about them. So, just go to them; I was already running, muscles tight, almost sore. Stand amidst them in a vain attempt to mock them, defy them – that will be enough, maybe it will even save me from fighting them.

Blank stares, gasps. Uncertainty all around. I could hear their hearts, racing, pounding. I could read in their eyes the question; I could smell the fear and the hesitation. I reached for the throat of the one that winked at me. I could feel the pulse in his vain, in his muscles. He tried to swallow and that only made me clench my grip. His eyes bulged, and fear oozed from him. No one moved. I was content. Maybe there would be no fighting; I saw the flash of the blade too late. I felt the burn in my belly; the bastard was brave enough to thrust and turn as well. I grabbed his hand with my free hand and turned to look…

It was a she…