Rebel

Gavin

First hit. My head jerks back by the impact of Chase's fist. I stumble and fall onto the cement, the hard ground knocking the wind out of me. I can't breathe for a moment. Blood leaks from my nose. A dozen boys circle me, engulfing me in a tidal wave of laughter. Their taunting voices ring in my ears. The glare of the streetlights cause me to squint, the sudden abundance of light blinding me.

"What's the matter, Adler? Did I hit you too hard?" Chase taunts. His tall figure towers over me, staring me down. The street boys' laughter grows louder. Chase turns to the crowd of anxious onlookers, ready to watch me bleed. "Should I hit him again?"

"Don't let him give up, Chase!" one kid named Spencer calls out.

Chase turns back to me, a smirk spreading across his stupid little face. "You hear that, Adler? Give up, and we'll understand."

I let out a fake laugh as I wipe blood from my nose. "I could do this all day."

"You're asking for it," Chase warns. He punches me in the stomach, and I laugh hard like a hyena. "So it's funny to you, eh?" Without warning, his fist crosses my face, hitting me in the jaw. I fall to the side. The toe of Chase's boot strikes my chest and I let out a scream in pain. The boys cheer Chase on as I'm lying on the ground, my back against the wall. I hold my arms close to my chest, hanging on to the remainder of my strength.

"Not so funny now, huh?" Chase says.

I don't answer. Instead, I let my weak state show, leaving me vulnerable to another blow. I remain on the ground, too weak to stand. The fighting has only gone on for a few minutes, but I'm already too exhausted to continue. The Units that march down the street in their little patrol groups don't stop to break up the fight. They don't give a damn what happens to us as long as they aren't part of it.

"Come on, Adler, get up," Chase urges. "Just one more."

I try to glare at him, but the muscles in my face are too tired to move. "Is he dying?" one of the boys asks. What an idiot.

"I hope so, 'cause I'm starvin'," another boy replies.

"Let's get outta here," Chase says. He gives me one last kick in the stomach, which makes me grimace. Chase points a finger at me and says, "Think about how the dirt tastes before you try coming up to me again." And with that, he and his gang are gone.

Once they're gone, I feel tears form in my eyes. I don't dare cry. I won't. I try to hold it in, but the pain from the blows adds to my misery. I feel hopeless. I feel like a dying flower, desperately reaching for the sky, begging for it to rain.

I struggle to get up, propping myself up on one arm. My chest and stomach aches with every movement. I force myself into a sitting position, and hug my knees to my chest. I bury my face in my arms and begin to sob softly, hopefully to numb the pain a bit. I'm such a baby.

Once I've calmed down, I stand, using the wall to help. I limp away into an alley. I stop in front of a worn out metal staircase that leads to the front entrance of my one room condo. I ascend the stairs, and instead of going inside, I grab the edge of the roof and hoist myself up. The roof is where I go when I need time to think, even though I always have time to think.

I sit at the edge, staring into the darkness. The streetlights don't give much light at night. Most of them are burned out, and the Units refuse to change them. Lazy bastards. I wonder how they get paid around here.

Honestly, I never had a liking to the Units. No one does. They're brainwashed soldiers under the influence of the government. And I don't favor the government one bit. Pretty much no one does. They're the cause of the mutant problem, which has been a huge issue for at least a decade now. I can't even remember how many deaths I've seen broadcasted on the Graphs, the main cause being the mutants. Where were the Units then?