||2023 𝑾𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒑𝑻𝒐𝒃𝒆𝒓| 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑶𝒖𝒕𝒔𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏||

𝑫𝒂𝒚 ６:𝑩𝒓𝒂𝒔𝒔 𝑲𝒏𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒍𝒆𝒔

Day 6:Brass knuckles

This was practically a daily occurrence for me. At the ripe ol’ age of seventeen I would regularly get the snot beaten out of me by some prissy snitchs boyfriend. Ain’t like they got off better than I did though because they never did. Everyone knew that. Can’t beat someone who don’t care. 

Sure I’ve cracked a couple ah’ ribs over my time but it ain’t nothing I couldn’t handle. Being in juvie changes you. For better or worse is somethin’ that I ain’t qualified to answer. The wounds would always be skin deep. Ones that would clear up within a week while the guy I was up against was eating through a straw. That is, when they would play fair. Playing fair is important. Hard to believe someone like me could abide by rules like that but eh’. I’m no coward. I know I can win with my hands alone. Bare limbed. 

This day had already started out unfair. I was hanging around the dingo. Trying to pick up broads. I had an in with the owner. I had an in with most places like those. Meaning I could score some beer when I wanted too. I had already burned through my dough by then though. I had been hollering at some chick. Don’t really remember what but before I knew it a gross beefy hand was digging into my shoulder. 

“Dal, you oughta’ leave my girl alone before I kill ya, ya dig?”

His voice was hoarse, grotesque and made me wanna puke. He was some older than me, eighteen nineteen maybe. I knew him. I’d see him around at rodeos occasionally. He wasn’t a grease’ or a soc. But I’d say he acted more like a grease’. He was a short stubby man. Like if a thumb was a person. I just scoffed, grinning at him as I gripped his hand on me.

“Hey you better calm down. No need to get your panties in a bunch.”

I said, the pride tangible in my tone. This pissed him off some. His ears went crimson, his eyes narrowing as the grit of his teeth attacked my ears. Real funny looking dude when he got mad. Like a puny mouse getting mad. Normally I would’ve just knocked his block off with no warning. He had crossed it already. But I was drunk and fights had been boring me all week which had been an uncharacteristic feat for me. 

“Your gal really ain’t pretty enough to fight over either so why don’t you just piss off while you can?”

I tried to assert my position. I wasn’t one to be messed with and I was attempting to give him an out. He didn’t take that so kindly however. He slammed me up against the polished wood of the bar, knocking over a couple glasses in the process. I couldn’t help but laugh and grin at this attempt.

“Hey you better take it outside before I call the fuzz!”

The owner called, staring a hole through the both of us. We did so however, shuffling outside the bar. We scampered about. Taking swings and hits at one another clumsily. We were both pickled by then. 

The small plumes of my breath, escaping my lips like a caged animal. I felt my hot breath being the only thing that kept me warm. A blanket for me. It wasn’t until I saw the glint of shine on his hand that my brain was sent into a frenzy. I swung up, sprinting towards him as I threw a heated punch at him. He faltered, staggering backwards for a moment. A new bruise had produced on his face. My knuckles stung with the sweet pain that I would crave ever so often. But he didn’t give up that easy. He hopped up, his stance straightening like he was trying to have good posture for a grapple or somethin’. I could see the shine of his sweat from the streetlight beside us. It was forming a new layer of skin from the fluid seeping out of his pores like wretched lard. And with that I saw the glint again. Only it was up against my face this time. I suppose that made it easier to see.

He had been wearing brass knuckles. Now this is what really pissed me off. He knew that he couldn’t beat me in a fair brawl. Call me what you wish but do not call me a coward. The cold brass of the weapon seeped into my cheekbone. It sent me flying backwards, on my ass. It cut into the side of my face, lacerating my skin and leaving a large hideous gash behind with it. I felt my breath hitch, smirking in disbelief. I would say this was a shock however with a boy his size dirty play is almost a guarantee. I felt my vision grow hazy with pure rage. Suddenly fighting wasn’t as boring as it had been before. I raced up, chortling as I tackled him to the pavement. He looked up at me, beady eyed. That ugly face disgusted me more than words can describe. I shuddered, feeling the pain vibrate through my body. It was like being tickled on the inside. A frustrating feeling since you can’t stop it. It came in waves, almost like a beat. My blood would pump out to that part of me, leaving the marooned water dripping down my cheek. 

The sticky fluid of mine would trickle down to him, leaving dollops of the red paste on his cheeks. As I felt something possess me, causing me to punch his face so many times it felt like my hands would break at any moment. Crushing the bones in my hands. Compressing them as if they were an accordion. His face looked so smushed that he looked like a pug. A snarl in his voice from the blood that now filled up his mouth. Every other second spurts of blood would come out. My beatings of him had distracted me from the pain I was in. For a while at least.

I had decided that it was enough. I beat him anyway. He’d probably leave with a concussion although. I laid down beside him on the cooled pavement, looking up at the stars as I felt the seer of the new wound. I wanted to crawl out of my skin and cut off my cheek. It was so bad. The door of the dingo creaked open. The owner came out, cigar in hand. An older fellow. One I had chatted to from time to time. 

“So, you done Dal’?

“Yeah. Yeah I’m done.”

Word Count:1114