An innocent Dispute

One thing leads to another

I suppose that no one ever really sees it coming.  At first you find yourself living life the way you should, with a bright future ahead of you.  You may struggle in school at times, but you swear to yourself that you do your best.  You stay out of trouble and you respect your family.  Yet somehow, these truths may fade into something else.  Suddenly, you are hanging with the wrong group of people doing things you never could have seen yourself doing just a few years before.  You are having fun, but you don’t know why.  What satisfied you before no longer is enough and so you seek more.  Soon “that” bad group is “your” group.  You are one of them and they are a part of you.  Things escalate, you start drinking and it isn’t long before someone in the group suggests to do something criminal.  Being in the wrong state of mind, you go along, knowing that peer pressure and intoxication are taking control of your better judgment.  It is here that you find yourself in a situation that you cannot escape from.  You are trapped in your own circumstance, defenseless against the fate that you were given.  It happens to everyone at least once in their lives.  Maybe it isn’t as severe as I depict it, perhaps some of the details are altered, but one thing always remains the same: the guilt.  At least, that’s how it happened with me.        Growing up, I was always the smart kid.  I did all my work with pride and I took responsibility for my actions.  My weekends usually consisted of videogames and sleepovers all the way up till college.  I made my parents proud and I made sure that I only did things that they would find respectable.  I had friends �" not many, mind you �" but friends nonetheless.  My life was normal, to say the least.  Sure, I had my fair share of bad memories, but nothing out of the ordinary.  I was a good kid, I promise.        Around the summer before I attended my first semester of university, I began spending more time with an old friend of mine that I had known since primary school.  He was never as strong academically as me, but he was still a nice kid.  In the past, we had spent many nights talking about life and the future.  Looking back on it now, he always had a smile on his face when we had those talks.  I think a part of him looked up to me for being different.  His other friends weren’t like me; they didn’t dress like me nor did they act like me.  They were all “cool” and pretended that their worth was solely based on their respect in the streets.  They would get into trouble often and I made sure to never associate myself with them, but somewhere along the timeline of my life �" I forgot that promise to myself.        The summer before college Jay and I spent a lot of time together.  He reintroduced me to his friends and I was more willing to accept them now that I was older.  They were nice kids, but they came from a shady background.  They poked fun at me for the way I acted, but it never bothered me much.  They would assure me that they meant no harm and it wasn’t before long that they accepted me into the group.  As I am writing this now it has occurred to me that perhaps they respected my intelligence more than they felt intimidated by it.  At any rate, they never took advantage of me and I realized that we weren’t all that different from each other.          We would often go to parties and smoke that summer, getting into trouble whenever we got the chance.  I would go along with it without hesitation, my standards had dramatically lowered.  At the end of the day, I was having fun.  I kept up with my job and I took care of my personal business.  The way I looked at it was: “if I want to have fun on the weekends, then so be it.  I pay my dues and I deserve to enjoy myself.”  I followed along this path into my first semester and surprised myself at how well I was able to maintain my grades.  Despite spending so much time with this new group of friends, I was able to keep up with my responsibilities.	Edit
Winter break rolled around sooner than I expected; my first semester of college was over and done with.  Final exams had left me very stressed and so I was looking forward to an entire month of relaxation with my friends.  I called Jay the very same night that I had finished my last exam and told him that I needed to hang with him.  It was only a matter of minutes before I arrived to his house, seeing the entire crew in his backyard.  We all shook hands and lit a smoke to pass around before having small talk.  I was beginning to appreciate the vacation more than I had originally expected.        It was at that time that I received a phone call from an unknown number.  The person on the other end (who will remain anonymous) said that they thought I was a “p***y” and that I didn’t belong in the group.  Shocked as I was, I instinctively responded with my typical cynical sarcasm, hoping that the caller was playing a prank on me.  To my dismay, however, the caller was very deliberate in his attacks on my character.  He wanted to fight me and told me that he would be willing to do it anywhere at any time.  I hung up the phone to find the guys all looking at me with stunned looks on their faces.  “Are you going to just take that?” “What are you doing man, you have to call him back and give him a time!” “No one will respect you unless you fight him, Taylor.” “You made a mistake, man �" now he will definitely think you are a pushover!”        I stood amongst the small crowd for a few seconds questioning myself.  I realized that I had never been in a fight before and that if I did end up going to the fight, I would inevitably be beaten to a bloody pulp.  I figured that such an outcome was to be expected though, because none of my friends ever told me that I could easily win or that I had nothing to worry about.  I told the guys that I would call the aggressor back later, still mulling over the scenario in my head.  They all looked back at me disapprovingly, a few of them muttered something to the effect of “if you don’t call back now, you never will.”  Unwilling to show cowardice, I immediately called the number back.  As soon as the unknown receiver answered, I told him that I would meet him at a nearby levee a week from that exact moment for the fight.  I hung up without waiting for a response.        The group all supported me after I finished the call.  They told me that it didn’t matter if I won or not and that they all respected me just because I went through with the challenge.  In the end, I was proud of myself for not backing down.  I accepted the likely reality of getting beaten up, but it didn’t matter.  It occurred to me that a lot of guys must go through this at some point in their lives.  I considered myself lucky that nothing of this nature had ever occurred to me sooner.  I spent the remainder of the night conversing with my friends, not thinking of the fight to come the following week.  My concern for it was nonexistent; “a time and place for everything,” I thought.        I had asked Jay via cell phone the next day if he could give me a few tips on fighting.  He told me that I could come over soon in order to explain more fully.  I wasn’t concerned with winning, but I didn’t want to be a walking punching-bag.  I wanted to learn just enough to be competitive, so that even if I lost, it wouldn’t be as degrading.  Jay taught me how to perfect my stance and also gave me tips on balance.  He showed me how to swing and went over the basic rules of fighting.  I learned a lot in that one visit and I was genuinely surprised at how much fun I was having.  It wasn’t very long before I had learned all that Jay could teach me.  He told me that I was as ready as I’d ever be, a statement that was reassuring enough for me not to be too worried.        It was only a few days later when the fight would take place.  I went to the spot alone, making sure to park my car far away from the specific area in the hopes of avoiding potential vandalism.  I figured that, even though I would most likely get beaten up, I would rather be bruised and bloodied than have my dad’s car be destroyed.  I met my opponent in the dark and stood no more than five feet from him, waiting for some sort of signal.  He finally spoke up and said “you didn’t bring anyone with you right? I don’t want to get jumped, I came here for a clean fight and that’s it.  I don’t like you and you don’t like me, so let’s get this over with.  Just an innocent dispute, Taylor.  We were going to have to settle this eventually anyways.”  “No one is here except you and me,” I said somewhat nervously.  “You wanted a fight and that’s what you are going to get.  First one on the ground loses, no cheap shots,” I made sure to set the rules with an assertive tone.  “Alright, sounds fair to me.  I’m leaving after I beat the f*****g s**t out of you though, okay?  After this is over, I don’t want to see you around anymore,” he said angrily.        With that final statement still lingering in the air, the fight started.  My opponent came rushing to where I stood, swinging erratically and without constraint.  I managed to dodge most of the hits, but had a few glancing blows to the side of my face.  I put my arms up, just like Jay had told me to protect my head and began analyzing my opponent’s movements.  It seemed like an eternity that I stood there, waiting for his next assault.  I was sweating even though it was cold outside; my heart was racing and I could feel tremors in my body.  My opponent took another swing at my face, but missed and overshot.  I took this opportunity to throw my first punch, but instead of hitting my opponent’s upper body �" I accidently hit his right temple with considerable force.             Crack. Thud.        In the confusion of the fight, my opponent had stumbled in his final swing, which caused him to lower his head.  This act coincided with my swing, inevitably leading to the blow which now had him lying on the ground.  I couldn’t believe what was happening, I had won!  I wouldn’t have to feel ashamed for the fight and I wouldn’t be driving back to Jay’s house defeated.  Except something wasn’t right.  It took me a while to realize what had happened, but I eventually came to my senses and looked down on the ground to where my opponent laid.  He was convulsing on the ground and staring towards the stars with one hand wrapped around his neck and the other reaching out in the air.  He was making a choking sound, as if he couldn't breathe and his face was twitching rapidly.  He was looking straight at me… no, he was looking through me, as if I wasn’t even there.  I tried talking to him.  “Hey man, are you alright?”  I still didn’t understand the gravity of the situation.  It was at this time that I noticed the veins on his head bulging.  His eyes looked like they were going to pop out of his head. I began to realize what was happening… a seizure.        I swung too hard, I thought.  By chance, my hook had caused detrimental harm far beyond the scope of my intentions.  This kid was on the cold wet grass dying and I couldn’t do anything about it.  No one was out because it was so late… no witnesses.  My mind began racing, this wasn’t supposed to happen.  It was just going to be a stupid f*****g fight, not the end of my life.  I was crying, and breathing so heavily that I produced faint vocalizations subconsciously.   I kept pacing back and forth in the dark, all the while hearing the downed kid’s gasps for air.  This all took place in a matter of seconds.  I checked my watch, it was 1:45 in the morning exactly.        I ran.  I ran and I kept running all the way back to my vehicle.  Guilt was already overcoming me, but I didn’t care.  I just had to get to safety.  I had to get away from that levee.  I got in the car and sped all the way to Jay’s house.  When I arrived, I was a wreck.  The wounds from the fight covered my story; I told Jay that I had lost the fight, but that I managed to get a few swings in.  He didn’t suspect anything and neither of us brought up the fight after the intial conversation.  I sat down outside to cool off and while Jay was lighting a joe, I began thinking.  I didn’t call anyone.  I didn’t tell anyone.  If that poor f*****g kid was really suffocating, he would have died by now, I thought.  He wouldn’t be found till the morning when some unsuspecting jogger stumbles upon him by the trail.  No one was there to help him.  His own mother probably didn’t even know that he had left his house to fight me.	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I spent that night at Jay’s crib and attempted to drown my worries in alcohol.  If I knocked myself out, I’d have to sleep. Right?  I never thought my existence would come to that night.  I never thought that I was that much a f*****g terrible person.  A part of me tried to rationalize with myself.  I kept saying in my head that there was a chance that he snapped out of it.  A chance that the seizure ended and he got up perfectly fine.  He wouldn’t remember any of it; he would just think that get got knocked out unconscious.  I reassured myself that everything was fine.  I wouldn’t let the doubts consume me.        I had plenty of nightmares that night.  I could see him holding his arm out, just waiting for someone to help him.  Jay woke me up before noon and told me that I had to head back home before his family came over for lunch.  I shook hands with him and left without saying too much more.  Luckily, my wounds had mostly healed and there wasn’t much evidence that I had gotten into a fight by the time I made it back home.  The rest of the day went normally, I had dinner with my immediate family and we talked about trivial things as usual.  I made sure to hide my worries, knowing that my mother was very keen on reading my emotions.  I managed to make it to my room after dinner without any obstacles and took a handful of sleeping aid pills to help me rest.        That night I awoke to the sound of something scratching against my closet door.  I was hesitant to even get up, knowing that weird noises were common in the house at night, but the scratches increased in intensity.  Having a pet, my first thought was that my dog had somehow managed to get into my room and trapped itself inside my closet.  However, as the moments passed I began to listen more carefully only to hear a new noise emanating from my closet.  It was the unmistakable sound of someone choking.  I tried to get up, but I couldn’t.  Paralyzed in fear, all I was able to do was stare at my closet door as it slowly cracked an opening.  A black, seemingly lifeless hand began to outstretch itself through the opening.  My eyes, having adjusted to the dark, could observe the hand reaching out, presumably from the ground inside my closet.        The hand shook in the air slightly, but remained mostly static.  The scratching continued, but never changed too much from the original increase in intensity.  I started to tear up at the choking sounds, they were too vivid… too real.  I reasoned with myself.  “This is just a dream Taylor, wake up! Just wake up!”  But I couldn’t, no matter how much I focused I couldn’t escape my dark room. The hand just hung in the air only mere feet from where I laid, torturing me with its presence.  I turned my head towards the clock in my room just in time to see the digital display change from 1:45 to 1:46.  I looked back to the closet, fearful of what I would find.  Astonishingly, the door was closed… no hand in sight.        I immediately got up from bed to check the closet.  It didn’t matter if I was only dreaming, if there was something for me to see �" I was going to find it.  I pulled back the door to find darkness.  Just my empty closet, with all its normal contents therein.  I confusedly walked back to my bed and closed my eyes.  I didn’t open them again until the morning, so I was unsure if what I had witnessed was a dream or not.  I got up and went through my normal morning routine.  I avoided the news and social media, unwilling to see if there was any information on the fight.  I wanted to be blind, I didn’t want to know if the kid had died.  I didn’t want to know if they were looking for the perpetrator.  I didn’t care.  If I was to be caught, then so be it, but I wasn’t about to make my life any more stressful than it already was.  Call me a coward.  Call me a heartless prick, I don’t care.  I didn’t care then and I don’t care now.        The fight happened six days ago and I have seen the black hand emerge from my closet at the same time every night since.  As each day passes, the hand stretches farther from the threshold.  I am not sure what will happen tomorrow night, but I am not taking any chances.  I am writing this all down now as my confession in case something terrible occurs.  This is rushed because I don't have any time.  I can’t stop it from happening.  I can’t stop the guilt from consuming me.  If anyone reads this, just know that I never wanted any of this to happen.  The clock reads 1:40, it is only a matter of time before he reappears.   I can still hear the choking.

Author's Note

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