Life after death

I've been trying to explain that I just work here, that I just want to pick up my bike, but it hasn't done any good. There are two of them, my back is toward the wall and they've positioned themselves to block any escape. One of them steps in close, gropes at my pants.

"What's in your pockets? What you got?"

I don't move, don't say anything. Suddenly they are both yelling, "what the fuck is in your pockets!" It's more an accusation then a question. The one in front shoves my chest. As I fall back I see his fists. Two punches straight in the mouth.

The world turns black, slows down. I feel my body slowly drifting toward the ground. Two thoughts pass through my mind. "It was stupid to try to talk to those guys." Then, "If you fall asleep, you won't wake up."

I can't see, but I manage to keep my feet under me. I can feel that they are still close, one still up against me on the front, the other to the right. I gather strength into my legs and then push up and out toward the front, feel a body make and then break contact with my hands, the space clear. Then to the right, I manage to get a hold on something and I start kicking it. My vision suddenly returns.

For the next ten minutes two men will try to knock me on the ground and smash my head in with a rock. I will make a few choices.

  • Given the option of giving up or fighting back, even in the face of certain defeat, I will choose to keep fighting.
  • Given the choice between saving myself and saving a friend, I will choose to save my friend.
  • Given the choice between living and dying, I will embrace the truth that if we choose to live, we have also chosen to die.

I am no superhero but these men never managed to hurt me beyond those first two punches. Both have been captured by the police. I will forgive them, but they lack the empathy and responsibility that freedom requires.

I intend to make something good out of this.