I will always protect you (Knifecase)

Beneath the Surface

     ❝SHIT!❞ I YELLED OUT IN PAIN as a forceful kick strike against my abdomen that sent an excruciating pain throughout my body. Then another hit that went straight to my chest. It felt as if each kick sent a wave of affliction, making me curl my body and muscles even tighter. The three strangers present in front of me seem to have no remorse as each kick gets more intense and painful after the next. I wasn't sure if my pain tolerance had weakened after each kick, but all I knew was I couldn't keep my eyes open, let alone stand on my two feet.

     As I shut my eyes, the three guys appeared to have not finished their business yet as one of them was about to go for another round of soccer kicks. I didn't feel blood gushing from any part of my body like I should have. But deep inside, I felt something torn. It was to the point I felt blacking out.

     I saw one of them gearing up for another round, and for a second, I almost laughed. Perfect. Another beating, right on time. Why didn't I just walk away? Why do I always find myself in this shit?

    "Asshole! Can't even stand between your two legs!" A second member scorned in anger.

     The irony made me want to spit, but all I could do was breathe through it. Maybe I was just born to piss people off. Maybe all my sarcasm, the attitude—I'd put myself here.

     I finally opened my eyes that revealed a blurry canvas. My eyes couldn't focus as if I didn't want to face the reality of the situation. Anticipating the worst, the persistent kicks seemed to stop as sounds of footsteps slowly faded away, probably leaving my body to rot. Must have felt satisfied, huh?

     Squirming, I pushed my body up using one unscathed arm. Soon, I felt as if the effort had ditched me completely, my head suddenly hitting the earth. Have I really been beaten this many times that my body became numb?

     With a scorching heat and waves crashing ahead, my body in agony, my frail body lay still. Feebly as I was, I couldn't help but listen to the sounds of chirping birds outside on this summer day. A day that was supposed to be bright and glimmering. Instead, I sat in the dark shadows of torment and suffering. It was as if I was in a whole other world, a world that I didn't want to be in.

     I heaved huge sighs since the functional parts of my body had stopped working. Even the light breeze touching my cheek and the sweat evaporating so slowly irritated me.

     Can't stand between your two legs! A never-ending voice replaying in my head. I tried standing again, but in an instant fell back and held tightly onto the rusty railing, ignoring the grit grinding into my palms. My legs felt so heavy. It's as if I was being pressed by an object on top of it. "Fuck," I let out, gently rubbing my forehead. But as I looked down, blood gushes through my gray shirt. Goddamn it.

     "Once I find them I will—"

      I stopped and suddenly started coughing violently.

      I felt as if I wanted to let something out. Yeah, I want to scream my lungs out. I freaking hated everyone. I clenched my fists, but all I could do was sit there, fuming at the blue canvas from a distance, the waves endlessly crashing against the shore. The sound swallowed up everything else—everything that was around me, every bit of noise—until there was nothing but that. 

      It should've been calming, but it just made me feel more pissed. It was like the world was taunting me, this peaceful mess, and here I was, just stuck in it. I felt like a dead ant, lying forgotten on the hot pavement.

      ...

      Now what?

      I wondered to myself, feeling the wind brushing against my cheek as I observed the cloudless sky. The sky was too clear. Nothing was right. I felt myself tipping, like I was going to fall forward. I couldn't even remember the last time I felt steady, and knowing nobody was there to catch me.

      "Ack!"

      The pain in my stomach hit again, but it barely registered. The anger was too loud. My body was shaking, but it wasn't from fear. It was from something else—something I couldn't quite put into words. The tightness in my chest wasn't just physical.

     I let my hand fall from the railing, fingers stiff and white from clutching it so tightly. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered. The fire in my gut grew, consuming me from inside out. Every wave to hit the shoreline hurled fuel on it, crashing and churning, as if it was mocking me for standing here and doing nothing.

     I sucked in a deep breath, but it didn't do a damn thing. I let it out slowly, my jaw grinding against my need to yell. I wanted to yell, to break something, to throw this stupid feeling back at the world. But what would that do? I'd just be another idiot shouting into the void.

      It made everything worse. Everything was a damn blur. The pain hit me like a wave, sharp, intense—like needles tearing through me, over and over.  All I could do was breathe, deep and shaky, like it would make any of it better. But it didn't. The only sound I could hear was the shallow, quick breath escaping from my lips. My chest rising and falling. And it was the only thing that told me I was still alive. Not that it felt like it was worth it.

      What if I just... didn't fight it? What if I let this all swallow me whole? I'd thought about it before, sure, but it'd always felt like one of those late night thoughts that comes and goes, not something real. Not like this. Death wasn't supposed to feel close enough to taste.

      Would anyone even care if I died? Or was that just wishful thinking? That somebody out there would actually miss me instead of just being relieved that I was gone, that they wouldn't have to deal with me, the guy who always got pissed, who couldn't just calm down and play nice. Or just miss having someone to blame, someone to get mad at?

      It was stupid, dramatic, but for a second, I really thought about it. Would anyone even care? Or would they just say, "That's Knife for you, the guy who couldn't keep his mouth shut, the one who snapped too much, pushed too many people away"?

     And maybe they'd be right.

      It was a stupid thought. But it lingered, gnawing at me, like it was the only thing keeping me awake in this haze. I whipped my head around as if there would be an escape. Of course, there was nothing. Just the harsh sunlight, the empty stretch of pavement, and the railing behind me that had barely kept me upright. Groaning, I limped each step away from the railing. No destination, no place to be. But that didn't matter.

      I could feel each heartbeat, feel the strain in my legs, the sharp ache in my side, and somehow, I was still standing, still breathing in this moment. A pathetic, painful breath, but it was real. And for now, that was enough.