Countdown to Impact

There are those days when you know that there is violence awaiting you.
It begins as you leave the somewhat comfort of the acquaintances that you are surrounded by. You walk through the seedy district of the city, all the while expecting an encounter of the worst kind. A woman walks by, and eyes your purse. You meet her gaze and brush by her, gripping the handle of your umbrella.
The moment passes, but your feeling of uneasiness continues. You just know there will be negative contact with another human tonight. You hear the music that emits from a portable player through your headphones, but you still listen for any sign of trouble.
You pass by a bar and visit friends. The feeling subsides for a while, but begins to build as your time to leave them nears. The feeling is in no way fear, but it is an onimous one.
You leave the friends and continue on your way, boarding the Skytrain. A scruffy, smelly man blocks your way to a seat and mumbles obscenities at you. You glare at him and tell him to move. He does slowly, and you sit down, knowing that the man will not be the only conflict of the evening.
Another man glances at you every few minutes as the train skates along its track above the tiring city. You wonder if that will be the one to hurt you tonight. Clutching your purse tighter, you watch the darkness out the window. Your stop comes up, and you have to change trains.
Upon exiting, a gang of youths approach you on the platform.
"Do you think I'm a bitch?" one asks.
"I don't know you," you reply, and stand facing her.
"Oh. Okay, thanks." The young native girl continues on her way. You get on the next train. You are poised for conflict, but appear relaxed.
Would it be easier to just hold your breath and await the violent fate that is stalking you?
You push on through the night, preparing for the moment when you will be tested. That is what life is about.
So you exit the train at your final stop and embark upon a bus. A strung out couple gesture to your purse as you make your way to the back. Drums pulse through your headphones and you focus on their intensity, absorbing it.
Your arms are full. Books and a discman in one arm, the coveted purse in the other. When the time comes you will have to decide what is relinquished to the ground so you may defend yourself.
The bus ride lasts almost twenty minutes. It ends when you see your stop and hop off. Two men step off behind you, and you feel that the time is nearing...
Crossing at the crosswalk, the men walk on the other side, stepping in parallel synchronization with you down the street. They have not looked at you. Then, you turn down a street…and they are gone.
So you are five minutes from your home. Two blocks.
Could you have been wrong about your feeling? This impending feeling that has followed you since you left the company of those you know…could it have just been paranoia?
Your mind floods with wonder as you continue down the street. What a peculiar feeling…
A group of girls is walking towards you.
You see them, but you are still too lost in your own thoughts. Suddenly the feeling returns with vengeance and you struggle to wade through all the thoughts in your mind. Just as you think you will reach the surface of this cesspool of strange feeling, there are a pair of eyes intent on you.
Your eyes meet the angry pair and hers widen. Finally there is the impact on your face. Face has met fist.
The books and discman go flying, and a guitar solo is ripped from your ears. One arm is now free. Throwing the widened eyes to the ground, your boot meets face…again and again.
Now you hear the screams, the apologies…but it is too late. You tell them that it is unacceptable to go around punching random pedestrians in the face, even if you are drunk.
Another of the girls step towards you. Your fist meets face.
Your mind jumps back to your property, now that you know that your life is not in danger. You vaguely notice as the girls help up their friend who has made neither a move nor sound in a while. You collect your strewn about items.
Some of the girls begin to run away. You are too intent on finding your headphones to care. They are out of sight now, but you can hear faint voices from their direction. Empty threats from empty heads echo down the street. The headphones are gone, and they are sorely missed. What will drown out the screams of the group down the street, now?
The feeling is gone. Fate met you as your face met a fist. You were somehow warned of these events, and you are thankful for it. Everything happens for a reason, and perhaps tonight you aided someone in a horrible way. You taught a valuable lesson that will awake with someone the next day as the blood from her nose drains down her throat, and dries on her swollen lips. For a few weeks, with every glance in the mirror, she will think of you as her bruises balloon with mauve, and then settle to green and yellow. And as they settle you hope that the bruises will be replaced with knowledge.
You arrive home and prepare for sleep, as you have earned a good night’s rest. But rest will be difficult, and you simultaneously thank and curse the adrenaline that still races through your exhausted body.
Sleep will come, but you must be patient.
Patience brought you readiness tonight, but it also brought you the stress of expectance and impendence. Mayhaps if you were more patient you wouldn’t have questioned the feeling that dogged you, and you would have been completely prepared for the fist you met. You would have been so prepared that you would have blocked the hand that meant to strike. This time it didn’t matter, as the impact upon your face and life was minimal…but next time it could be you on the ground with the boot in your face. So, you have also learned an important lesson. Awareness is key; do not question yourself or let your guard down.

There is a lesson to be learned from everything.