Witness

I've never felt anything worse, than what I felt that night. Sitting in the car, watching their meaty hands grasp at his body, pulling and throwing him around as if he were a rag doll, curling them into fists and pounding into his face and stomach, knocking the wind out of him, throwing him off balance.

He fell with a sickening thud to the floor, which I heard, even from the, almost, safe confines of the car. I wasn't young and naive, I knew what was happening, I just didn't know why. I hadn't yet had time to work it out.

When you witness something like this, your whole mind kind of goes on standstill and you only really speak in prayers. Now I'm not religious in the slightest, but I was praying to the big guy in the sky. Praying that he would stop this. I didn't care how, so long as he stopped it.

I remember the way they yelled and yelled at him to "get up of the fuckin' floor," but he was half unconscious, and bleeding from more wounds than I've ever seen in even the goriest horror movies.
He tried. He really did, I could see it, but no matter how much I wished, he just couldn't make it. Every minute that went by that he didn't stand, they'd kick him again, and again and again, until they became bored with that form of torture and threatened him.
"We know he's in the car," they'd yelled, causing my heart to leap into my throat, chocking me momentarily as I coughed and spluttered as quietly as I could. Not easy, as you can imagine.

My Father spluttered something, but I couldn't make it out. It looked like he was pleading, begging with them to leave me alone. They'd grabbed his hair, pulling him upwards onto his feet, and that was when his eyes connected with mine, and almost as if I could read them, he told me what to do. I knew I had to run, so I slowly opened the car door, doing what I knew he wanted me to.

The mob were too busy tormenting him in every way they could to notice my fragile body slipping from the confines of the car. I didn't bother to close the door, that's just a way to draw attention to myself, so I slipped gently away, running to the end of the car park.

Something, I don't know what, told me to look back at the gang, so I did. And that's when I saw it. Something silver shining in the dim streetlights. I couldn't work it out, I didn't know what it was, until I heard that sickening crack which always seems to make things go in slow motion, especially when you hear it for real. I saw his body flop lifelessly to the floor and land with a lifeless thud.

I wanted to scream at him to stand up, to tell me that this was all some sick joke to get back at me for not doing my homework, but he didn't. He wouldn't move, no matter how much I wished for it.

The gang started scattering, most jumping into their own vehicles to make an escape, but some making their way to my father’s car where they knew a witnesswas had been hiding.

Voices began to be raised as they searched the car a few times over, before realizing and announcing that "the little shit was missing!"

I was frozen to the spot, I didn't know what to do as I watched them all looking around in hysteria, trying to figure out where I was. They spotted me soon enough, I wasn't hard to miss, and it was then that everything unfroze.

The glue holding me to the floor melted away as reality sped back into life with a painful jolt and I bolted away. I didn't know where, I didn't care, just as far away as possible as quickly as I could.

My heart pumped in my throat and I could hear my blood swishing around in my brain. In some ways I was thankful, because it blocked out the sounds of their yelling, that would just scare me more, and probably cause me to have a heart attack.
I knew one of them had a gun, and it was only a matter of time before I would be joining my father. I was too young to die, I know I was. Even my father was too young to die, but now he was lying face down in some grotty parking-lot a bullet wound...where-ever. He didn't deserve this, but I don't there's anyone on earth who does.

Turning off down an alley I forced my legs to go faster and faster, just to throw them off for a couple of seconds, to give me a little more time to climb over the wall straight ahead of me. The bricks were all really old, on some of them were hanging out of the wall, making perfect stepping stones. I didn't know what it lead to, but I knew it could probably save me.

After launching my small frame over the top, and landing with a thud on the floor, that caused me to graze my knees; I sat against the wall, my breathing shallow as I listened to their lumbering footsteps and booming yells until I could hear them no-more.

Without even giving myself enough time to register that I was moving, I made my way home as fast as possible, locking the front door as soon as I'd run through it, praying once again, that they didn't know where I lived, and hadn't followed me here.