Friday, 8 April 2016

Story #227 - Arguing (part 6)

"Oy... Oy... Wake up!" 
"Huh?" I open my eyes and feel the front of this guy's foot. His pointed shoe pinches my skin like needle pricks a balloon. "What the fuck are you doing?" I lash out at him, forgetting that I'm on the ground and he's staring from above. 
"Calm down, mate. Calm down. Unless you want me to calm you out."
"You reek of alcohol, you don't look too strong, so you'd better be careful with how you talk, or you will end up in the ward."
"I've got exactly two pounds in my pocket, if that's what you're after. I've lost it all, anyway. You're too late."
"How did you lose it, mate?"
"Pub and gambling."
"Why are you sad, mate?"
"Life is...harsh, you know. But why are you showing me sympathy when you wanna rob me? When you're jabbing me with your fuckin' sole? Are you mental?"
"Whoa. See, you lost it, and now you're making me be hard on you." As he said that, he stomped on my chest five times with his big foot. Liquid come out of my mouth after the third stomp; blood on the last one. "I hope you're feeling more relaxed now." He grinned.
I could barely turn my head to the side and spit out the redness that came out from underneath. The warmth it brought reminded me of my mom's milk rice dessert. Damn that was good. I want to see Marie again. I want to hold her, cuddle her, cry on her shoulder, and say nothing.
"Alright. I'm leaving. I'm not touching you anymore. Do whatever you want, just don't get pissy, okay?" 
I couldn't care less what he shuffled out. I coiled like a child in the dirt and started weeping. 

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