Dust Settlin
I cant remember what he was saying, what he was spitting and ranting about now. I never got used to the words,I blanked them out like I could with physical pain and intimdation. I just went deaf instead of numb. I found the senses were easily manipulated when necessary. I could make my self temporarly partially or completly deaf, dumb, blind or numb at will. Provided my will was motivated by extreme levels of stress. Anyway, he was a nasty one, a long timer, the dirt in a graze that could never be washed out, he had the oppurtity, skill and will to discover my limits and push me past them. The type that never got to deep into the hiarchies behind the day to day bullying, currioption, rape, torture and slaverly that manipulated the easily percieved power stuctutures behind peoples lives.
Or as some mights say,
'A thug who had done well for himself'. He was the kind I found it difficult to escape from. I could tell he was about to get physical, in the pub in front of everyone, I was about have my bones broken, teeth knocked out or worse, either way I was heading for the near by accident and emergency if something didn't happen soon and it didn't look like anyone else in reasonably well populated bar was going to move.
I was lucky. I had been in situations like this before, enough to have lived through various out comes and I was an adult now and he had been on the extreme edges of life for long enough for it to start to show. He was losing his heart, his sofa had become increasingly comfortable for a while now. The pressure of everything that I had been through either directly or inderictly was transformed into energy that built me up and I went for him.
Oppurtinities throughout my life early made me believe that it was possible to use violence as a primary means of defense instead of sex. I was well trained in both so I was confident early that it was the right decision. The only way I could walk out of this with my head held high enough to survive enough the PTSD. Or die.
Some one grabbed me, half the room was cringing. He held me and hushed me like a father might so I didn't hurt him. But I could plead and he let me go and I finished the job, quickly, swiftly. I rarely remember any of that. But afterwards as I stood there close to the blood and the mess and the silence and was reintigrating my multiples, establishing some means of regaining approximate sanity in my brain, a man walks in. He was cleaner, freshed, healthier and better educated than everyone else. I knew him and was relieved to see him. He helped me out of by £5 denim jacket with the fake fur around the colour and helped me into some sort of warm cozy jumper and jacket, that thick enough for the winter outside and left with. .
Outside in the back of the light and air of the car wrapped in contrasting dark and nutral colours, I felt fine with no qualms about casualy, playfully even checking out the driver by leaning over his shoulder from the center of the back seat. Smiles. I ask,
'Whens the work?', after I have settled back into the gentle warmth of comfort I had not known for a long time. He says,
'Thursday'
'What day is this?'
'Monday'
'Cool'.
Or as some mights say,
'A thug who had done well for himself'. He was the kind I found it difficult to escape from. I could tell he was about to get physical, in the pub in front of everyone, I was about have my bones broken, teeth knocked out or worse, either way I was heading for the near by accident and emergency if something didn't happen soon and it didn't look like anyone else in reasonably well populated bar was going to move.
I was lucky. I had been in situations like this before, enough to have lived through various out comes and I was an adult now and he had been on the extreme edges of life for long enough for it to start to show. He was losing his heart, his sofa had become increasingly comfortable for a while now. The pressure of everything that I had been through either directly or inderictly was transformed into energy that built me up and I went for him.
Oppurtinities throughout my life early made me believe that it was possible to use violence as a primary means of defense instead of sex. I was well trained in both so I was confident early that it was the right decision. The only way I could walk out of this with my head held high enough to survive enough the PTSD. Or die.
Some one grabbed me, half the room was cringing. He held me and hushed me like a father might so I didn't hurt him. But I could plead and he let me go and I finished the job, quickly, swiftly. I rarely remember any of that. But afterwards as I stood there close to the blood and the mess and the silence and was reintigrating my multiples, establishing some means of regaining approximate sanity in my brain, a man walks in. He was cleaner, freshed, healthier and better educated than everyone else. I knew him and was relieved to see him. He helped me out of by £5 denim jacket with the fake fur around the colour and helped me into some sort of warm cozy jumper and jacket, that thick enough for the winter outside and left with. .
Outside in the back of the light and air of the car wrapped in contrasting dark and nutral colours, I felt fine with no qualms about casualy, playfully even checking out the driver by leaning over his shoulder from the center of the back seat. Smiles. I ask,
'Whens the work?', after I have settled back into the gentle warmth of comfort I had not known for a long time. He says,
'Thursday'
'What day is this?'
'Monday'
'Cool'.
