what i have written below is slightly graphic, reader discretion is advised…
the pic is something stupid i drew on some paper… its dumb.
he walked down the street. the rain pouring down around him. his hood was up against the cold but it didn’t offer much protection against the wet, wet rain. his foot went into a puddle, soaked unto the ankle, soaked through. he crossed a road, a car barely missing him, walked past a prostitute outside a pallor who invited him in, he ignored her.
he carried on walking, his other foot, the right one, the one that wasn’t wet stepped into some dog shit. squelch. he stepped back, rolled his foot in it, the crap oozing out from under his heel. then he walked on. people looking at him strangely in the orange glow of the street lights.
after a while of this he came to a park, a big open space in the middle of this big grey city. he hesitated. reached into his pocket, took something out, gave it a glance, put it back. his face became hardened. he looked into the dark, scanning, waiting, expecting. then he set off into the park.
along the pathway he walked, past passed out drunks and homeless, into the centre, towards a light, a single solitary light. it illuminated a circle in the darkness around which people gathered. night people. dangerous people. as he approached some of them noticed him and detached themselves from the circle towards him, others disappearing into the night.
he didn’t care what they intended, he had one goal. to avenge his girlfriend. who had been raped in the park, dragged in off the street and raped under a bush. beaten badly and left there over night, where she was found by other people of the night and abused in the same way, over and over, unable to scream, too exhausted from fighting the first time. it had broken her mind, she was left a shell. the police had been unsuccessful in finding any solid leads. to him though it didn’t matter, they were all scum. all responsible.
the first of the parks denizens reached him, uttered something about what did he want, where was he going, give him his phone. he didn’t react at first, he came to a stop, let the man come closer, then bang. the night person was doubled over in pain, he, him, the avenger, had kicked him in the testicles, as hard as he could. then pow, he kneed him in the face, busting his nose and sending him sprawling. it was if this was some cue for the others and many surged towards him, some brandishing weapons of a kind or pulling out blades or screwdrivers they had secreted about them selves.
as they closed in on him he didn’t care, should a blade puncture his skin it would bring him and her closer together, he would understand the pain she had been through, his body raped by the blades and spikes of these psychotic people as hers had been raped by the penises of the scum who had abused her. he moved to the first attacker and lashed out sending him sprawling in the dirt where he tripped up another attacker. he felt a pain in his shoulder and turned to see a small man with a small blade with blood upon it. he punched the tiny guy in the face, over and over, pinning him on the ground and continuing to do so. then he felt a blow to the head, he fell to his side, as his vision went he saw boots and trainers coming at his face, felt fists and feet contact with his body. he could feel the punctures of the wounds being inflicted from knives and other sharp instruments. he relished in them all, soaking up each one, not screaming, not uttering a sound, just like she had done, before she had been broken, taken away from him.