Impulse Control (ON HOLD)

Chapter 22

He picks up both of our cones and takes them out back. Offering me a chance to sit on his lap, he sits on the lid of a trash can, reaching a hand out to me. I look at the hand like it's a foreign object. Despite all of my confusion, I know for sure that the idea of taking his hand is repulsing me completely.

I shake my head, stepping back, away from him. "N-no. I don't want to." "Is that so?" he asks, in a voice full of malice. "Why not?" "I-I j-just don't want to," I reply shakily, backing up even more. "You're one of them, then." He said the word 'them' like most people would say 'dog poop'.

At first I don't comprehend what he meant, but then it hits me: Mark thinks I'm a lesbian.

Before I have time to correct his mistake, he tosses our cones in the trash can and advances quickly. I press my back against the wall of the alley, my heart pounding in my throat. He looks at me, and there's such hatred in his eyes that my pulse begins to race.

Mark swings his fist and the punch lands squarely on my nose. I hear a sickening crack. Quickly putting my hand up to my face and then bringing it down again, I see blood staining my fingers. Red-hot rage ignites inside of me, and I ball my hands into tight fists.

He looks at me, standing there, shaking with fury, and laughs harshly. "Whaddya gonna do, hit me?" he teases. I glare daggers, wanting to beat the shit out of him. However, I refrain from doing so because I'm not sure if it would be considered self-defense or assault at this point, and I don't really want to get arrested today.

Mark takes another swing at me, spilling loose a mountain of profanities as he does. Now I see the obvious hell Cleo must go through. With violent, dangerous homophobes like Mark on the streets, how can she ever feel safe?

I feel a renewed empathy for Cleo. Her life is definitely not easy. Besides the danger Cleo faces in her everyday world because of who she is, she also has to live with PTSD and depression. This makes me feel guilty about how I blew up at her. She has enough problems in her life without me contributing.

As I'm thinking about Cleo, rain starts to pour, and the putrid odor of something rotting in the garbage cans fills the air. Mark slips in a punch to my face, and I feel a bump forming. He kicks at my kneecaps, and, caught off guard, I fall.

I try to get up, but I slip in the pooling puddles of rainwater, and I get a face full of street filth. Mark puts one booted foot against the small of my back, holding me face-down in the alleyway. Coughing, choking on the foul things that are being swished around my face, I shake my head from side to side, struggling to raise it from the dirty, bacteria-filled street.

Mark slams my head back down, and it begins to throb painfully. Hot tears sting my eyes, and I fight them back. I refuse to allow myself to cry in front of this...this...animal.

I kick my legs as hard as I can, but since I'm aiming blindly, most of my frenzied kicks don't reach him, or he sees them coming and darts out of the way in time.

Breathing in the dirty, foul-smelling air, I'm given a harsh slap of reality. This is what Cleo has to deal with every time she goes out, this unspeakable, heart-shattering fear. She has to take on the hate and prejudice this world sets upon her shoulders. It's not her fault she's a lesbian; She didn't exactly choose to be gay. She just is. And so beating her, or anyone, for that, is nothing less of a crime to me.

How dare anyone do that to them! These prejudiced assholes have absolutely zero right to be out here freaking terrorizing the LGBT+ community.

Mark draws my attention back to the present by sending a swift kick to the back of my head. A ringing sound echoes in my ears, and I feel terribly dazed. A seemingly normal fog begins to shroud my brain, and Mark's hissing voice sounds as if it's coming from a distance, through a tunnel.

"Just try and escape now!" Mark gloats, flipping my body so that my face is out of the street. He punches me on the jaw, leaving a sore, bruised spot. I'm too dazed to fight back. I try to send a punch towards his arms, but I'm so weak that I end up just bumping it lightly. He laughs again, and the cruel, sharp sound rings harshly through my ears. 

I feel myself being yanked upwards, and soon Mark has me sitting upright on a metal trash can. This helps my head, and my vision clears quickly. I'm aware of a dull, throbbing ache in my head, but I don't feel near as out of it now as I did before. 

As soon as Mark sees me regain my coordination, he hits me again, this time in the stomach. "Ugh!" I cry out, gasping for air. He slaps me across the face then. "Shut up!" he yells. I look straight up, into his eyes. They're cold and hard, and full of pure hatred. I've never seen anyone look so cruel.

He wheels back with his fist to strike me again, but is interrupted by a shrill voice cutting into the wind. "Hold it right there!" The fist immediately lowers, and I sit taller, trying to see my rescuer. I'm surprised to see Cleo's slim, attractive figure posed a few feet from Mark and I.

In her eyes, there's a fierce look that I've never seen before. That look...it's like a protective girlfriend, or mother. But the look she's directing towards Mark is a cold, hard one that sends a shiver down my spine.

Cleo takes another step forward, drawing a knife from the folds of her hoodie. "Hit her again, and you're a dead man," she warns Mark in a low, menacing voice. He backs away, holding his hands in the air. "All right, all right. Don't hurt me."

He runs away, and Cleo puts the knife back in her hoodie pocket. I begin to stare, unconsciously. She's wearing low-slung jeans, and some sort of athletic-type shirt underneath a gray hoodie. Her damp blonde hair hangs carelessly down her back.

Cleo makes her way to me, and I run to meet her halfway. She opens her arms, and I fall into them. She pulls me close, cradling me to her chest like a baby. Softly, gently, stroking my hair, she whispers into my ear, "It's okay. It's okay. It's over now. I'm here. I've got you, Sierra. I've got you."