Inner Sorrow - Part 44: Bashed

Part 44:
Bashed
- - -
“I’d drive you home, but Tom has the car,” Angel smiled. “Walking’s ok with you, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Pal shrugged. “That’s fine.”
Despite the fact that Brad and Dean’s house was a fair distance away from where Angel lived, it wouldn’t take too long for them to get there. As Angel had explained before they left, they’d simply take a few back roads and alleyways to get out to the town’s main intersection. From there, all they’d have to do is walk out of town for a little ways and take the back road.
“This won’t take long,” Angel said, sliding an arm around Pal’s shoulder. “Sorry.”
“You don’t have to be sorry. It’s not your fault Tom took the car.”
“Yeah, but I should’ve planned in advance.”
“It’s all right. Don’t worry about it.”
Shrugging, Angel tightened his grip around Pal’s shoulder and led him into an alleyway. They passed a group of men smoking against the wall, but ignored them, continuing on their way as though nothing had happened.
“Something wrong?” Angel whispered.
“No,” Pal murmured. “It…”
“Look!” someone cried. “A pair of fags!”
Both stopped walking.
“Ignore them,” Angel said, pulling Pal along.
“Hey, faggots! Turn around when someone’s talking to you!”
Turning, Angel pushed Pal to the side and watched as the four men advanced toward them. Pal tried to contain his shakes by curling his hands into fists, shoving them at his sides as though popping his knuckles and nothing more.
No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t help but see his father’s face in each intruder’s eyes.
“We don’t want any trouble,” Angel said, looking at Pal out of the corner of his eye.
“There’s no trouble,” one man grinned.
The others laughed, punching or slapping one another’s shoulders.
“You got any money?” another man asked, gesturing to Pal.
“Nuh-No.”
“What about you, half-breed?”
Frowning, Pal looked at Angel just in time to see a flush of red come to his face.
“We don’t have anything,” Angel said. He grabbed Pal’s arm and began pulling him down the alley. “Come on, Pal—let’s go.”
“Wait just a goddamn second!”
Pal grimaced as the man stamped his foot.
“You’ve got to have something on you.”
“We don’t have anything,” Angel growled. “Leave us alone.”
“What about that earring, pretty boy? It looks expensive.”
“Go away. We don’t have anything.”
“Ooh,” the third man taunted. “The fag’s got balls.”
A chorus of laughter exploded between the group of four. Near tears, Pal reached into his pocket to try to find anything he could use as a weapon.
Finding nothing, an old hand grasped the back of his neck.
Ready for punishment? his father whispered. Ready to learn what it’s like to be a man, son?
“Give us the earring and we won’t fuck you up,” the bum continued, taking another step toward them.
Angel turned to face Pal.
The fear in his eyes spoke for what was about to happen.
“We don’t have anything,” Angel said, pushing Pal behind him. “Come on, guys—we don’t want any trouble. Just let us go on our way and we won’t…”
“DO IT NOW!”
“RUN, PAL! RUN!”
Fight or flight kicked in almost instantly, thrusting Pal down the alley as soon as the first punch flew at Angel’s face. Every rational thought that had ever existed in his head up until that point left his mind. Feet flying, mind whirling, heart beating as fast as it possible could, Pal ran with his father’s voice in his head.
Fucking fairy.
Cocksucker.
Bastard.
Cunt-licking twatfuck.
He could get the cops. Yeah, that’s what he’d do. What else could he do but find someone with a weapon? A gun, a knife, a fucking broomstick for all he cared—he’d run back into the alley armed and dangerous and take those motherfuckers on.
You don’t mess with my boyfriend, he thought, pushing himself toward the alley. You don’t…
A hand slammed into the back of his neck and forced him into the ground.
“Gotcha,” one of the men whispered.
Pal screamed as the man grabbed his hair and pulled him to his feet.
“Fuck him up,” the man said, taking hold of Pal’s wrists.
The first punch flew into his gut. Pal threw his head back to try to get a cheap shot in, but the man slammed him against the wall and pinned his hands to his lower back.
“Fucker!” he screamed, thrusting his knee into Pal’s groin. When Pal screamed, the man threw him onto the ground, threw a kick into his side, and spit in his face. “We’ll show you that fags don’t belong in Colorado.”
Like a hand from God, Pal’s assailant reached over and drew a baseball bat from the darkness.
Please, he thought. Don’t.
All fairytales don’t come with a happy ending.
The first blow broke his wrist, while the second and third slammed into his chest, breaking ribs and forcing breath from his lungs. The fourth grazed his side, while the fifth, sixth and seventh hit his thighs. Muscles screamed in pain and bones cried in mercy as they came under the assault of naturalized weaponry. Thighs flared, lungs expanded, and eyes bled tears as the bat came down on him over and over again.
I’m going to die, he thought, screaming as another blow hit his chest. I’m going to…
“PAL!”
The bat stopped coming as Angel slammed into the man, driving him into the wall head-first. A sickening crunch cracked the evening hour and a trail of blood slithered out of the man’s nose as he slid to the ground. The second and remaining man reached down, grabbed the bat, and thrust forward. It caught Angel’s side, but barely phased him as he slammed his fist into the man’s face, tore the bat from his grip, and brought it down on the thug’s head with enough force to break it in half.
“Ah-Angel.”
“Oh God,” Angel sobbed, bending down beside his broken boyfriend. “We need to get you to the hospital.”
“It hurts,” Pal whimpered.
“I know it does, baby. It’s ok, don’t worry—everything’s going to be all right.”
“It… it… hurts… so…”
Brought into the arms of his eternal, merciful savior, Pal could do nothing but close his eyes as Angel ran down the alley.
Roughly half a minute later, he passed out from the pain.
*
Cars, horns, cries, screams—Angel ignored any and everything. Blood pounded in his head and fire laced his beaten side as he pumped his legs across the intersection. He dodged in and out of traffic as vehicles stopped within inches of killing both him and the lover in his arms.
“CALL THE COPS!” he screamed. “THEY’RE IN THE ALLEY!”
A man across the street rushed forward.
Angel—his mind in another place—didn’t hesitate as he brought his good shoulder forward and plowed the man aside.
“Get out of my way!” he cried. “Move!”
Everyone within hearing distance moved without question.
Hospital lights gleamed in the distance.
Angel pushed on.
Cars slammed on their breaks.
People screamed.
What sounded like a siren sounded in the distance.
Angel burst through the front doors of the medical center and let out the loudest, longest scream he had ever uttered.
Startled from the peaceful reverie of the front entrance, nurses flew into action. One pulled Pal out of Angel’s arms while another rolled a stretcher into view. A third and fourth took place beside the stretcher and pushed IVs and an oxygen mask over Pal’s face. A fifth and final male nurse pushed Angel away from the scene.
“What happened?” the man asked, grabbing Angel’s chin and forcing their eyes together. “Sir! Sir! What happened?”
“We were bashed,” Angel managed. “In an alley. They… they hit him with a bat.”
The strength went out of his legs.
The male nurse caught him before he could fall and helped him into a chair.
“What’s your name, sir?”
“Angel Martinez.”
“And you friend’s?”
“Pal Michelson,” Angel said, reaching up to touch his face. “What’s wrong with my…”
He stopped speaking when his finger traced a torn flab of skin.
“We’ll get that stitched up, sir. The doctor’s here right now.”
“I need to call his guardians,” he said. “They need to know what happened.”