School Fight

I am surrounded by a gang of hungry school children, hungry not for food, but for the fight that they so want to happen. Even those which I once thought of as my friends were trying to whip me up into a frenzy for the battle of the year. I am pushed forcibly into the centre of the baying crowd to face my opponent, like an unwilling gladiator about to face Maximus Decimus Meridius. He is about six-foot one, with a full beard and muscles that would make Dwayne ‘The Rock’ Johnson shiver. Bearing in mind we are both only 15, that is one scary man beast. Apparently, I called this large oaf an idiot, which he took huge offence to, so much so that he wanted to ‘beat the living crap out of me’…with more colourful words of course.
“Come on then chump, lets see you call me an idiot now!” Mr Bully shouts out as the crowd joyfully cheers. I didn’t want to tell him at this point that I didn’t actually call him an idiot, in fact I said moron, but I didn’t want to inflame the situation any further and enrage the beast anymore.
I take a step forwards and raise my fists to try and look hard, like in all those fighting films I’ve watched. “Put um up” was the line which kept running through my head, which had the opposite effect to pumping me up, it just made me giggle. I don’t think my intimidating performance worked though as I watch him flick out a knife from his right pocket and threaten it towards me. As if he needed any further assistance to look menacing than his huge towering mutant body and rippling biceps. The knife thing was the last straw for me, I had sort of come to terms with the fact that I might get a beating from this buffoon, but getting stabbed was not on my agenda. I turn and run but I don’t get far as the wall of people, which is only getting bigger, blocks my way. They came for a fight and they weren’t leaving without getting their fix.
I dart around trying to find a way out, a gap in the impenetrable blockade of humans, but to no avail. I turn for one last time before stopping abruptly as I bump into the man-child, I feel a liquid running down my leg. Oh no, I’ve wet myself in my frightened state, I’ll never live this down…although, strangely enough I don’t feel frightened right now, in fact suddenly I don’t feel scared at all. I suppose the worst thing has happened, it can’t get any worse than peeing yourself can it? Maybe I’ve just gone into ‘I don’t care anymore’ mode. The liquid is warm as it glides down my inner thigh, it trickles out of my trousers to moisten the dirt beneath my feet creating a puddle. The man child looks horrified, it’s like I have passed all my scared-ness on to him. I wonder why he is so spooked? Did any of the urine touch him, have I just pee’d on him? I look down to see if the expanding puddle on the floor had reached him or touched him in any way…red! It’s red! Oh no, it’s not pee, it’s my blood! I slump to the floor as the blood which was supposed to be running to my muscles pours out of my guts, making my legs buckle. A wave of pins and needles sweep through my body from my head downwards, as if a leak has sprung in the bottom of a tankard and all the juice is escaping. Everyone flees, including the coward bully, as my vision becomes blurry and I begin to lose consciousness. I am left alone to bleed out, no one calling for help, no one staying to comfort me…all because I called someone a moron…what a pathetic waste of a life…

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