Beat up..

Well - I left this out of my life story, because I wanted to go into detail about it and it was way too long to put in. This is a real story. I'm writing it in a odd form, because I aspire to become a writer (perfect legal job for a stoner, no?). Give me some feedback, please. I got my writing idea from several books, including Kite Runner, Into Thin Air, and Killer Angels.

I wish I could say I won, but I didn't. There was a doctor above me, wearing a pale blue cap, and scrubs, with a white mask, with shadow of his mustache peeking through. Where was I? My jaw hurts, I close my eyes. I black out.

I wake up again - I see a woman this time. She said her name was... Virgin. No, that's not right. I'm tired, how long was I out for? A few weeks ago, I remember a fight. A fight with a man with a mustache... No that's not right. A man in a green shirt and hat. No. Hmmm.. I black out.

That light hurts. My leg hurts. My arm hurts. My stomach hurts. My head hurts. What happened? My brother is here. What's u- I can't open my mouth. Why? It hurts. Everything hurts. What is this beeping sound? I want to see my girlfriend. Where is she? I see the man with the mustache again - He- oh wait, I can't talk. Ouch. I can't move my right arm. I black out.



I come back to it. I remember it now, vaguely. I was on my way to a friend's house, I was 16 at the time. The clock struck ten. SCREEEECH. I looked behind my left shoulder, and see a green Jeep Cherokee. As I turned around, I jerked my arms left - and my bike swerved to the left - I fell off the curb. Who is this? Fuck. It's Micah.

*****
Micah and I were never friends. We hate each other. It all started when I kissed his girl friend in eighth grade. We got into frequent fights, not usually physical, though.
*****

I started sweating bullets. Micah was twice my size, and I wasn't really an experienced fighter at the time - sure, I fought on the school yard, but those were always broken up within twenty to thirty seconds. He comes up to me. He swings, hits my nose. I can tell it's already broken. I try to swing back at him, I hit him in the ribs. He hits me twice in the face - I can feel first cooling sensation of the hit, then I feel it heat up with blood. I can't feel the pain. He kicks me in the ribs, all I hear is a crack, and I lose my breath. I can't breathe now. He hops on top of me, my body on grass, my head on concrete. He smashes the back of my head off the ground, multiple times. I can see him kicking the shit out of me, but my eyes are closed. It's like an out of body experience. He finally gets off me, I can feel the weight shift from my abdomen. He starts kicking me, all I can feel is the sharp pains of the kicks - little did I know he broke four ribs and one of those ribs punctured my lung. I raise my right arm to my face, trying to stop the blood. Snap. He grabbed my arm and pulled it the wrong way. He dislocated my elbow. He takes out his knife - and he cuts behind my right leg - about six inches. This may seem random, but I know him, and I know he is a psycho. He wants me to live, but suffer. He sliced the back of my right leg because I knew I play soccer. He knew I was the starting forward, and he knew my right leg was my dominant. I needed several stitches and therapy. A lot of therapy. He didn't stop there. He kicked my head. Once. Twice. Three times. Four times. I hear a waning - is it just me? It gets louder. I think he popped my ear drum. Voices - who else is here? I can't open my eyes. I feel dead. Am I dead? The waning is still going. I black out.

After the drugs, surgery, and everything else, I find out what happened. The person who lived at the house with the lawn where I got my ass beat, called the cops. It was a seven year old girl. God bless her soul. I could have died. I would have died. It took them a minute to arrive. They arrested Micah - he's now in jail. Thank god. Bless Allah. The waning I heard was police cars. The rest, you know. I was transported via ambulance to the nearest hospital.

My elbow was dislocated, my eye socket was shattered. Behind my right knee I lost a lot of muscle due to apathy. I punctured my lung, and broke four ribs. My nose was broken, and I was severely concussed. I lost three teeth. I forgive Micah - I needed an ass kicking, but not that bad. I touched finger tips with the devil that day, and I hope I won't ever again.

Dislocated elbow:


Cut leg:


Leg scar today:

 

Pretty much, yeah. I'm lucky to be alive - that punctured lung really could have fucked my life over. A week later, I went and thanked the little girl for saving my life.

 

Thanks guys (the ones who didn't write just two words, lol). And yeah, I'm good now. This was 2-3 years ago when my life was getting pretty hard. I deserved it because I was a dick, I thought I was untouchable. Like one of the classic 'jocks' in High school. That night changed my life - now I know, I can be touched. And yeah, a lot of people only tell stories about how they kicked someones ass. What's the point of that? I just told a story about a moment that changed my life, and it's humiliating, but I didn't see anyone laughing at me the first day back in school when I rolled in with my sweet wheelchair.

I was in for about two weeks, and eight months of physical therapy afterwards. I was really mad about the teeth - I was mad about the whole thing. Micah's mother paid for the dental bill, and insurance covered a lot of it. But I really do feel for Micah's mom, I mean, no one deserves to be put through that, having their son being charged as an adult at 17**, going in for 10-some-odd years.

Of course I'm still tokin'! That's what mainly help me get back on my feet. My mom understood that I didn't want to take the pills the doctors gave me, so she let me smoke weed in my room.

 

don't gotta remind me

haha, well i hope it's a good shock!

 

Yeah, and a lot more. Underage drinking, DUI, etc... I think he's actually in for 25, but I don't want to ask his mom, I don't want to cause her more pain.

 

Thanks guys, a lot. It means tons. Maybe I'll actually publish a book one day, who knows?

But when people ask me what the worst part was, they immediately think it was the ass-kicking, but it wasn't. The worst part of the whole thing was going back to school. Since I refused to take the pills, I had to get high before school, and our days lasted 6 hours - I could not stay high for 6 hours. So, I only went to school for 4-5 periods before coming back home and getting high again.

Oh! And something funny, obviously I was holding at the time. When the ambulance came, they took me onto the stretcher, and they had to cut off my shorts because of what happened. In my shorts pocket, was about an eighth. The person in the back with me (there might have been two, I really can't remember) felt it, took it out, and told me I went through enough shit and didn't need to get a possession charge, and a near-death experience, so he just held onto it and I'm guessing he threw it out. I wish I could have thanked him.

 

Haha, I don't really think that would sell. I would need a plot - like redemption, or something or other. Maybe I'll redeem my father, nephew, or someone else. (read Play Your Cards Right if you donno what I'm talking about). But yeah, I'll include this, with more detail.