Charade

Benji

When I stepped outside of the newsagency, unlit cigarette between my fingers, I noticed the golden sunlight settling down onto the damp street. Cool air pinched at my skin, filling my nostrils with the smell of petrol and rain. I brought a flame to my cigarette and breathed in deeply, watching a blur of sedans and Holdens run by like streaks of pure colour. My tired eyes unfocused and I felt the soothing grey smoke wash away everything that made my muscles tense. It was bliss.

Then, suddenly, I caught a glimpse of a familiar face. I don't why she was familiar. I couldn't quite place it. But she was young, around fourteen, wearing a school dress and backpack the colour of the sky. Something about her hair bothered me. Dark and long and straight, it blew in the wind and her fringe was parted by the breeze. I squinted at the girl, trying to figure out why she seemed so familiar, but the distance made it difficult.

I watched her, breathing in my cigarette, as she walked along the sidewalk on the other side of the street. Head down, quiet, not walking with anyone. A group of boys, four of them, aged somewhere around sixteen or seventeen, walked in the opposite direction. When they were close enough, the girl looked up and I saw the terror in her big blue eyes. It was at that moment I knew who she was.

Lily.

The boys were laughing but I couldn't hear them over the traffic. I only saw them. One of them, a younger one, pointed at Lily and snickered. Lily's head dropped and her eyes stayed glued her feet, but it was too late. The younger one who'd pointed at her elbowed his friend and they cracked some joke. The oldest boy, who must have been in year twelve, sauntered up to Lily. He said something to her but she ignored him. When he grabbed her arm, she shoved him off and kept going. I saw the instant change on the guy's face. Happy and mocking one second, then flipped straight to blinding rage. He grabbed her backpack and yanked her backwards, flinging her around to face him. He yelled something into her terrified wide eyes as she held up her hands to try to defend herself, but she was so tiny, so helpless against him. Then he shoved her. Her skinny legs fell out from under her and she hit the pavement hard.

The cigarette dropped out of my mouth but I was already running by the time it hit pavement. I ran for the road, glancing only for a second before sprinting head on. Silver Fords and red Holdens honked at me, spitting out curse words, but I didn't hear them. I only saw her head split against the concrete, her wig toppling off to reveal her bald and bloody skull.

"Fuckin' ugly slut," one laughed.

"Hey!" I screamed, jumping the gutter and tackling the boy into a wire fence.

I threw him to the ground, jumping on top of him and punching him square in the nose.

"You think that's funny?!" I roared, getting in another blow to the jaw.

Red-hot rage filled my insides, wanting to tear him limb from limb, to break every bone in his body, to rip open every inch of skin and watch his blood stain the concrete. I hit him again, on the cheekbone this time, making sure to leave a good mark.

The guy came to his senses and grabbed me by the shirt, flipping me off him, and somewhere in that blur I felt his fist slam into my lip and tear it open, so that the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth and dribbled down my chin. I caught his next hit with my forearm, feeling the soft bone crumble under the blow, but wasn't so fortunate when the next hit my right eye. My vision went red, blinding me, and then I felt something sharp slice my hand, and when I realized it was a shard of glass from a smashed bottle, I grabbed it. My instinct ticked over into overdrive and I threw him off me and got to my feet.

He was on me in a second, but I'd expected it and threw him into the fence, back facing me. I grabbed him by the hair and yanked his head back, holding the glass to his throat, and whispered into his ear:

"Touch her again and I will cut your throat while you sleep."

Slowly, I pressed the glass against his neck and sliced open half an inch of flesh. He cried out in pain.

"Got it?!" I screamed.

"Got it! Got it!" He begged.

With a fist full of his hair clutched in my hand, I yanked him backwards and kicked in the back of his knees, tossing him to the ground like he'd done Lily. His head hit the pavement with a crack and he looked up at me, right eye already bruising and jaw already swollen, before scurrying away like a dog that'd been kicked.

I watched him run away like the coward he was, feeling the disorientation blur my surroundings, before turning to Lily.

She hadn't moved.

Not even a little.

"Lily?" I asked, falling to my knees beside her. "Lily, get up. They're gone. Lily?"

But all she did was lay there, still as the dead, as one thin trickle of blood slipped down her temple, while the rest spilled out onto the concrete in a thick red puddle.

© A.G. Travers 2015