Chapter 15: Holding back the darkness

Wednesday 16-May 2007

Chris glanced behind him to check on Shahia. She was standing right behind him, her eyes wide open in fear. There were few kids close around them, and he could see more coming, drawn to a fight like moths to a light. He turned back to Jerry.

"You leave her alone. What a coward, picking on a girl."

"So what are you going to do about it?" Jerry growled back at him.

Chris swallowed. Jerry was a lot bigger than him, and he'd heard about Jerry's fighting ability — it would be worth trying to talk his way out of this: he really didn't want to fight Jerry. Unfortunately, he very much doubted that he had any choice — unless he made this stick, Shahia would be worse off. It wasn't like he didn't know what he was doing either. Although it had been maybe a year since he'd last had a fight, he'd fought fairly often during the first few years in high school, and he'd done all right back then.

"I'll do what I have to, to get you to leave her alone."

Jerry laughed at him, a real sneer in the tone. "I can put you in hospital!"

"Yeah, you probably can. But I'm going to hurt you first. Any time you push her around, you're going to hurt, until you learn to leave her alone."

Jerry's face changed. Chris realised that he was no longer amused; now he was angry. He started advancing on Chris. "Get out of my way, dickhead."

He was committed now, he knew. And he knew that whatever happened, he was going to get hurt, probably badly. But with what was at stake for Shahia, what did it matter? So he needed to accept that he was going to hurt, to lose, but he had to put that aside and focus on achieving his own goals. His first priority was to make sure that Jerry didn't get to Shahia, and his second was to hurt Jerry as much as possible before he could no longer fight.

When Jerry got close enough, Chris suddenly punched him as hard as could in the chest. Instead of leaning back, or trying to avoid the punch, Jerry actually leaned towards him, and at the same time launched a lightning left hook that caught Chris square on the cheekbone.

Jerry took a step back. "Had enough"?

Chris gasped. That hurt. Belatedly he realised that this wasn't some little scrap like those he had been used to, this was the real thing. He shook his head. Yet that hit to his face was exactly the same one he'd laid on that poor Lebanese looking fellow in the riot, and somehow a cloud was lifted from over him. Whatever happened, he'd finally started to atone for that terrible thing he'd done. A peace settled over him; what would be, would be.

"Leave. Her. Alone. Prick."

Jerry growled at Chris and rushed at him. Again Chris hit him as hard as he could, connecting with the shoulder this time, but it was like hitting a brick wall. This time Jerry hit him twice, first with a left then with a right, a real big swing, both times hitting him square in the head.

Briefly everything went black. By the time Chris realised what was happening, Jerry had closed on him, and grabbed his collar. Chris knew that Jerry was lining up for the big one. In desperation, Chris leaned back, using Jerry's hold on his collar as extra leverage, and kicked him as hard as he possibly could on the side of the knee.

Jerry's leg buckled and he howled in anger and pain. He took a half step, limping and favouring the leg that Chris had kicked. He lined up the big right hander again, and by reflex Chris looked away just before he got hit again in the head, his ineffectual attempt at a block brushed aside. Then Jerry used both hands and pushed him as hard as he could into the wall. Chris's head hit the wall side-on, and everything went black.

"Chris!"

Vaguely he heard a voice calling his name. Why?

"I think he's unconscious!"

"Nearly, I think. Chris!"

A face appeared in his vision. "Chris, are you okay?"

"Huh?"

Some hands lifted Chris off the ground, and he tried to stand, though parts of his body didn't seem very interested in the notion. He didn't seem to be thinking right, though he knew that he was in a great deal of pain.

"Can you walk? We need to get you to the first-aid room."

"No." Chris wasn't quite sure why, but he knew that he didn't want to go there. Still, he definitely wasn't right to stay at school. "No. Home."

"Are you sure? You want to go home?"

Chris nodded, and sagged into the person holding him. "Home."

Vaguely he was aware he was being guided across the school to the students' car park, and then he was pushed into the front seat of a car. He sat there shaking and watched as the car drove out of the school. Joe. That was who the driver was.

When the car stopped at his house, he got out of car by himself, though he had to hold onto the gate for a while, until the world stopped moving around him.

"Are you sure that you're going to be okay?"

"Rest. Then I'll be okay."

Actually, he was feeling a little better, and he staggered up the footpath to his front door. Stupidly, he stared at the door. It wasn't open. He needed a key. He looked in his hand, and it wasn't there. Where would it be?

He sat down next to the door to think about that. Concussion. He must have concussion. That would be why he was having trouble thinking. What was it that you weren't supposed to do if you had concussion? Sleep — that was it. You weren't supposed to sleep...

"Chris, are you okay?" His mum was holding his chin and two of her were looking in his eyes.

"Umm, what?"

She dragged him up and guided him to the car, and then he watched the roads to the nearest hospital go by.