The South Paw

Photo credit - mailsparky

The sun burnt through the car window onto my arm, I could feel the sting as my skin turned red. I pulled my arm back, no sun cancer for me I thought. Starring out the window I watched paddock after paddock of wheat crops flash by, squinting my eye's, made them look like a golden streak.


He and I would drive for hours, not a word spoken. It would only be obvious to me what I was about to endure when we arrived at the destination.


He turned off the highway and onto a gravel road, I tried to snatch a glimpse of the road's name but the street sign had been shot up. The cars wheel's drove onto the gravel road and that popping sound the gravel makes under the wheel always made me feel like home. But this gravel road was not the run to the farmhouse, it was leading me to somewhere that I didn't know.


Again he turned off the road and onto a dirt track, it had not been used in awhile from the bushy stripe that ran down the middle of the track. Dust started to pour in the car, so I wound the window up and put on the air-con. It was one thing to have a half sun burnt arm and another to get sinus' from dust.


The brakes squeaked as he stopped the car, I looked around quickly, trying to get a sense of my bearings...I saw two other cars, both long black BMW's. that had there window's blacked out...mafia.

In the middle of a hot summers afternoon; where sticky flies crawled relentlessly into the corner of my eyes to suck on what moisture they could find, to the odd piercing caw of a lone crow and the faint baa calls of sheep echoed through the land.


I sat glued to my spot, what fucking ambush has he got me in today...I angerly thought.
I wanted to beat the shit out of him.


The unknown occupants got out and looked each other over, we got out too and they looked us up and down. She spied me like I was some product on display at the local shop. Her blond hair tied back in a pony tail, her body tanned and muscle, it was a fight.

They exchanged nods and it was on.

I cringed at the thought, why couldn't I just punch his head a  few times, he'll keep...I hated him for always setting me up in these situations. I hated him period!


I walked out to the edge of the wheat crop, its sweet smell softening to my psyche and a gentle reminder that the world can be a beautiful place. The fighter jogged over punching the air as she came and flexing her muscles as she showed her prowess in body building poses. Far from being intimidated, show pony. I had seen it before and knew that I would see it again.


I didn't want to hurt the girl, but like a dog backed into a corner, I would bite.
I grew anxious, sweat already was forming on my brow. There was no way I could back out now, fuck I really hated him, either way I was fucked, by him or the mob.
The fighter and I took to the open ring and squared up to face each other, bare knuckled.
I let all outside noises drown from my ears. Like tunnel vision, my attention was only on the orthodox fighter, it was not only about winning the fight but proving myself to him so that he would some how acknowledge my existence as important.


We sized each other up and danced around each other gracefully flirting our skills. Gesturing to the other, trying to entice the fiery of the other fighter to ignite and explode with the first punch. My patience was long but I knew to gain his approval I would have to be quick. I gritted my back teeth and crunched on sand grains that I had sucked in from the dust, I spat it on the ground.


The fighter gave an arrogant nod at me, asking the question – did I have what it would take to win this fight? I always played my cards close to my chest and the fighter became agitated and said something in a language, that I couldn't understand but by the laughter that came from her corner, I knew it was a sly remark at me.


I was a tough chick and didn't tolerate rude behaviour.
"What! Can't you speak english?"
The fighter looked at me confused, I was right, she no comprehendo.
Foreigners.


That was enough for me to fuel my rage and I planted my feet and in a smooth one two movement jabbed with the right hand and straight punched with the left. It landed on the  fighters chin and for a second the fighter lost her balance, falling backwards amongst the wheat crop. I drew back and wiped the beads of sweat from my face, I could feel the sting of the sun on my face and I squinted and put my hand up to block the suns ray's and I saw the fighter look over to her corner and some big greasy fat bloke was shouting,
“get in there, get in there,”


The fighter got to her feet and dusted her self off, using this as a stalling tactic to try and lure me into a false sense of security...the fighter lunged at me, I advanced towards her and again planted my feet and again jabbed and punched with a hook. It landed on the cheek bone and a cracking sound boomed over the jeering from the side line - the bone broken.

The fighter bent over and sucked in large amounts of air. The fat greasy guy was yelling profanity at her. She shook her head and he yelled more louder and gestured violently towards her, she straightened and side way glanced at me. She raised her fists and took a few steps forward.


I changed my stance to orthodox and charged in. I jabbed to the left, jabbed to the right, then dropped both hands. Confused the fighter again lunged forward and I broke with an upper cut. A deafening crunch echoed in my ears as her teeth tore through her upper lip and blood spewed out. The fighter screamed in pain and withdrew.


I looked in my corner and he stood arms folded, he nodded in gesture to finish the fighter off.


I stepped in fists clenched, bobbing and weaving. The fighter huddled in her corner, but she was pushed back into the ring...she spat a vile amount of blood and saliva on the ground and bobbed and weaved trying to protect her broken face.


The fighter leapt forward in a variety of combinations and I grabbed hold of her and pushed her back. I then repeatedly punched with left hooks. I let her go and she fell, her face covered in blood – the fighter put her hand up – she had had enough.


I walked to my corner, not a mark on me and all he said was that I 'took too long.'


I looked back over my shoulder and saw two blokes usher the fighter in the car's and they drove off in a hurry, spinning their wheels as they left. Then as if taking the first breath since arriving, I sighed heavily. I wondered what trophy he gained from me winning.


The drive home was in silence, my thoughts turned to the other fighter and hoped that she would fair ok and if her captures were kinder to her than mine. I looked at my hands and my knuckles bruised, bloodied and the skin torn. I didn't feel any pain, I was numb. Numb from the very essences of every position he put me in - because I was just some girl surviving the best and only way I knew how.

The Protector

Photo credit - Thenys

There was nothing usual about the way the days events unfolded. It was near perfect weather wise. The tropic's in the spring could turn on fantastic sunny days with a hint of a cool breeze.

I had agreed to drop a letter off for my brother to a place where I knew that someone else would be.

I hoped she didn't think I was following her. I wasn't stalking her but I wanted to make it look like an accidental meeting if we did bump into each other. I'd act all coy saying I'd forgotten she'd be here.

I was a little embarrassed too. I was total in love with this women. The way She plays with her long black hair and circles it around her finger. Her beautifully green eyes brighten as she smiles. Never before had I experienced such feelings.

As I stood out front and stared at my reflection in the automatic opening doors I thought, I'll just walk in real quick, drop the letter and walk out. Quick as a flash she won't even know I was there.

I took a deep breathe and walked in. I wish I could of hit reverse and backed straight out but as the young man spun around and pointed his gun at me I felt a knot tighten in my stomach. It tightened not for me but for those I had not seen.

The look on his face showed astonishment. It was obvious when he was planning his day he had not factored in that someone could walk in behind him.

“Fuck” he swore.

Fuck, I thought.

His hand was shaky, sweat beaded on his forehead and he hadn't shaved for days. When he spoke there was a definite nervous crackle in his voice.

“Who the fuck are you?” he demanded.

“I'm Jilly...I'm just quickly dropping this letter off for my brother,” I noticed the nervous crackle in my voice too.

He dropped his eyes to the envelope I held in my hand and then using the gun he beckoned me in.

I put the letter on the counter and when I turned back my heart sunk. There was a group of about ten people sitting on the floor. They were huddled together some whimpering in fear and others dumb struck by it. I swallowed a large hard lump that found it's way to my throat. There she was, sitting with her knees up tight close to her chest. She looked and caught my eye. Her stare was one of confusion as to why I was there and then to concern as I stood two feet away from the gunmen.

I looked at her and hoped my expression told her it was going to be ok. I half smiled. My first instinct was grab her and run. But this young man stood in my way. I looked back at him his blond hair all messed up and his eyes dark from lack of sleep. Pure adrenalin kept him upright.

Suddenly reality check slapped me in the face and I could again see my reflection in the automatic doors but when I looked at him the reflection did not change. I saw my own mirror image of a time I too stood in his shoes.

The protector in me was always a strong reaction and feeling that I had nurtured from a young age. Thinking back to a time when at school I would protect the young school children from the bully's. Nearly everyday going home with a bruise or two from a fight. It was automatic like the doors, a finely tuned sensor of emotions to save not only the hostages but the young man as well.

I leaned into him and whispered “hey this is really gonna sound nuts but you know twenty years ago when I was your age I wanted to do this,” he frowned at me confused, I continued “I wanted to kill someone,” his confusion turned quickly to intrigue and he prompted to ask who but no words uttered from his dry mouth. I took a step closer and answered his wordless question “my uncle.”
He glanced at the huddle of people on the floor and I took another step closer “he raped me,”
The young lad looked back at me and for a glimpse I thought I saw compassion in his eyes.


Frightened and confused he stepped toward me and pressed the gun to my stomach. His eyes searching mine for truth. Telepathically I told him my story...I had dreamt I had envisioned I had chosen to do what this young man was doing twenty years ago. I had plotted to kill the man that stole my life. I had been in pain and just like the young man frustrated and confused. I had planned it and I was prepared to go to jail for it...


I looked at the young man as if seeing him for the first time. I felt compassion sweep through me for the lost feeling he was experiencing, the feeling of utter hopelessness, despair and guilt. He was suffering from the effects of another person not taking responsibility for their actions and he was suffering the consequences as if they were his own.


I told this young man the plot I had planned the term of jail I was prepared to endure the regret of decisions and then I told him why I had not followed through with murder.


“You are angry but not at these people, you are angry at someone else who makes you feel insignificant and unworthy” I paused “you are not to blame for this you must put the anger back onto the person who has hurt you.”


He dropped his hand and removed the gun pointing at my stomach. He looked at me and then turned his back to me and placed the gun to his temple. Shit no I thought not like this.


I ran forward and put one arm over his shoulder and the other around his waist and bear hugged him. I felt him quiver in my arms as his knees buckled from under him and he collapsed to the floor.


I looked over at the crowd of hostages and every one was looking at me. Stunned by the scene that had just unfolded before them. I nodded for them to go outside and one by one they got up. As she walked passed me she stopped and looked at me her eyes beguiled by the event she had witnessed. I smiled at her and ushered her to go outside.


I sat down next to the young man the gun laying between us.
“You know that the police will come and want to talk to you,”
He nodded.
“Don't be afraid this is how your healing begins,”
He looked at me and the tears in his eye's told me his story.

Alternate ending....

I ran forward and put one arm over his shoulder and the other around his waist and bear hugged him. I felt him quiver in my arms as his knees buckled from under him and he collapsed to the floor.

I looked over at the crowd of hostages and every one was looking at me. Stunned by the scene that had just unfolded before them. I nodded for them to go outside and one by one they got up. As she walked passed me she stopped and looked at me, her eyes beguiled by the event she had witnessed. I smiled at her and ushered her to go outside.


Covered in his blood, tears swelled in my eyes, as I held his body in my arms, I swore to the young man his abuser would not go unpunished, somehow and by some means I would tell his secret.