Five Minutes
By Space Toaster
I’m five minutes away from getting my ass kicked. I’m sitting on an overturned bucket in a junkyard. They’re glancing at me, some whispering, most of them talking loudly. They probably think I’m crazy, and that’s fine. Their leader laughed in my face when I told him I wanted to join.By Space Toaster
“Ha! You gotta sense of humor, I like that.”
“Do I look like I’m joking?”
He was even more amused that I was serious. “All right girlie, we’ll give it a go.”
It’s going to be me, versus four of them. It’s going to end with them kicking my teeth in, but that’s fine. What matters to them is I can take the beating. They play rough down here. It’s time for my medicine.
I walk into the little squared off arena. The spectators make catcalls, very loudly letting me know what they would like to do to me. One of them decides to act it out, earning laughter from his friends. I wonder if they’ll ever think of me as a friend. It’s doubtful.
Someone yells ‘GO!’ and right away, the first guy throws a punch at my face. I dodged the first few hits, but eventually they ganged up on me. I throw my fists and make contact with flesh. It doesn’t stop them from beating me but they’ll be feeling those bruises eventually. I’m in a hurricane of fists and boots. I guard my head and face. A fist sails into my solar plexus and I go down on my knees, wheezing for air. I spit out blood and a molar. Everything aches.
Later I’m sitting on a creaky folding chair, with one of my attackers behind me. My hair falls down my back, nearly reaching my waist.
“You sure about this?” He fingers a lock of hair, mousy brown and smooth.
“Just do it already.”
He saws through it with a pocket knife. I watch my hair fall to the dirty asphalt. He shaves the rest of it off and I stand up. My neck already feels cold, but I like it. It will be a plenty change from getting my hair yanked on in a rumble. A denim vest is tossed to me.
“Welcome to the Turnbulls, girlie.”
I know none of these guys like me, I’m just fresh meat right now. They’ll harass me; laugh at me, who knows what else. They’ll learn eventually. I took their beating just to humor them. They don’t know about my collection of human teeth. They don’t know why I came to them. They don’t know how truly fucking crazy I am. But they’ll learn.
