I don't know what happened.
Fragments of conversations come back .
"Two bottles ? That's nothing !He drinks at least four to get high and then fucks me and passes out "
Its four in the morning.Its cold.I'm shivering.
"What! Four ! No Way ! I pass out at two.How does he even manage to get it up after four ? "
Now I'm shivering uncontrollably.
Some thing's wrong.This is not me.I'm not there, but I can taste the squalid conditions of the dingy dark dirty cramped room I'm in , hear the smell of despair mixed with alcohol and paint thinner fumes and the sight of the distant rumblings of a local train go past vibrate in my bones.
Things go hazy.
"I'll show you how " he says and climbs on me, straddling me , and then starts hitting me.
Too confused I do nothing.
I don't even know this guy, let alone know why he is hitting me , or sitting on my back.
Then I feel no pain but only the chilling realization of his teeth sink into my flesh.This gets me in a frenzy.I'm numb and my heart is racing...
Things go hazy...I blackout.
Now I see him on the ground.He's not moving.There's blood all over, I'm not sure whose.My jaw is hurting like hell.
I've never been in fights.
I'm not a fighter.Someday though I'd like to get into a fight with no consequences to faces afterwards.Something like fight club shit, beat the crap out of each other and then grab a beer later.No consequences, no regrets .Only release.
Since my childhood , I've been only in two fights.Technically only one fight.
Ok ok , none of them were fights.Are you happy now ?
I punched a classmate for taking something from me(I don't remember what).I punched his soft stomach and watched him crumple down in horror.I hadn't expected such a dramatic reaction.
Five raps on the knuckles , kneeling down in front of the entire school , and an apology note from my parents - This was my punishment.
For years I was afraid the police would arrest me for assault.
This was in fourth grade.
The other fight was not a fight.It was me getting beaten up.
A bully , a classmate of mine , who was bored and wanted to have some fun came upto me and slapped me for throwing a stone at him(which I didn't).He was bigger than me and stronger than me, hell , he was the captain of the class kabaddi team and a black belt in karate.And I was just another geeky underweight runt with combed oily hair and a bad case of acne.
No, I was not just another geeky underweight runt .
I was a geeky underweight runt with a death wish.
I slapped him back and said that I didn't throw the stone at him and now we were even.
He grinned at me - a vicious grin that said , 'Boy , you just made my day '
As far as I was concerned we were even.I turned my back and started walking away.
Two words.
Bad Move.
I felt a station wagon crash into me.
Next thing I know I'm pinned against the wall by my collar and people are cheering on raucously.It was a free period and the entire class was there , my friends and all , but they were not going to take sides that day.
Even at the age of thirteen fear of death trumps over virtues like bonds of friendship, loyalty and of solidarity.
So they watched on,for violence,real or imagined (and in this case being real)was still exciting.
And I refused to fight.
I said that I would not fight because we were even.At the time I was not worried about death, maiming injuries or worse - the loss of face.I was concerned with being right.He had hit me unjustly and I hit him back.We were even.
Case closed.
It was that simple.
Only it wasn't.
He had smelled blood and now he wanted to taste it.
But he kept pushing me all over, taunting me, baiting me to attack.
But I was a stuck record.
I repeated that we were even and I wouldn't fight.Over and over again.
So for the grand finale, he pushed me hard, over the stairs.
It was a five foot drop onto sand ,gravel and small rocks.
My life did not flash by me.
I did not backpedal in
slow motion screaming
"NOOOOOOOO! "....
I didn't even fall down.
A classmate caught me before I went over.The bully left in disgust.
He had better things to do .
In his mind , there was nothing worse than a pacifist geek- oh there was !
a pacifist pimply underweight runty geek.
And I'd live another day, with minor bruises to my body and ego.
This was eight grade.
But this was different.
The fight was different.
The level of cruelty was different.
There I was in a small dark dirty room with three others, three strangers.These were not familiar faces.I've never seen them before - If I knew how to , I'd sketch their faces , but I'm sure they did not belong, or rather , I did not belong - it was not my world, not my life, not my consciousness that I had glimpsed upon.Now their faces are crumbling away in the sands of time and soon will be forever lost in the black holes of memories.
I bit him back.
He bit me and in panic I bit him back, I'm not sure where , but I could feel the softness of his flesh yield to the relentless pressure of my jaws.
In the end I won , because I got the softer spot and held on to it.The blood was his, and I had tasted it.
I felt sick.
I woke up with a racing heart and a throbbing jaw and realized that it was only a dream.
As I woke up, it all seemed real-but not a part of my reality .What I glimpsed was another place, another time, another life.A glimpse through a dream portal to a somewhere that I did not belong to .
It was four in the morning.I was shivering again.
Tried to go back to sleep , but old memories kept coming back.
The boy who I punched in fourth grade is now a doctor.He promised that he'll kill himself by the age of thirty.
Five more years to go.
I'm waiting.
The bully who nearly killed me in eight grade failed to get through highschool .Twice.
Now he is an engineering student somewhere thanks to a generous donation to the college coffers by his rich dad.
The bully is now hitting on a pretty clasmate of mine.She was the kind of girl that every boy in the class had a crush on.
I suppose I had one too.
(Now I realize that every class has a girl like that and she usually ends up breaking everyone's heart).
I was hitting on her too, but stopped at once when I saw that the bully was hitting on her.Anyways she seems to be more receptive to him than me.What is it with girls and their fascination with bad boys, jerks and losers ?
And today , I woke up with an aching jaw and a bad dream vaguely tasting blood.
I hate insomnia and the dreams it cooks up.
I went up to the mirror to check myself.
My heart skipped a beat as I saw it on my lower back near my left kidney.They were perfect half moon shaped and had a characteristic jagged serrated imprint deeply etched on my skin.
They were bite marks.
