Fight

A Story by Wynny

Version 2 (updated)

Thud.

Colours swarmed his vision. A pulsing pain swept through his head, pinning him to the ground. All he could hear were the shouts and cries from above him; he couldn’t move. He was fading into a world of darkness and oblivion, gradually waning until he could feel nothing else.

***

Liam woke up. Kookaburras flew off his chest and into the distance, laughing. He walked home, slowly and nonchalantly. He didn’t bother to avoid the glass and blood; sweat trickled down his head onto the numerous scratches that populated his arm. He reached his flat and opened the door. His mum didn’t even glance at him; he went straight into his room. He stared at his right hand for a short time. He clenched his fist. There was no handball there.

Liam had moved into the suburb a month ago; it was just him and his mum. He had already got used to moving once every few months; he didn’t care anymore. Each move was forced; four months was the maximum before they were kicked out. The neighbourhood was a dismal and lacking desert by day; a drunken and violent feeding ground by night. Crimson red stains populated the roads and paths every evening. Glass littered the gardens and graffiti swarmed each and every wall. Each night was polluted with the combinations of both bird squawking and human laughter, yet the laughter seemed more inhuman. It felt empty.

Starting new schools was another one of Liam’s frequent changes; his life was of a nomad’s. There was no time to make any friends. He eventually stopped feeling the need to talk to anyone at all. People came and went; Liam not taking notice of any of them.

There were fights at school. Liam didn’t know why, and he didn’t want to know. Skin was bruised and bones were cracked during most lunch breaks. There seemed to be no end to it; an endless amount of arguments were generated when those two groups got together. He quietly observed them, squeezing his handball tightly.

As the fights continued, Liam’s interest grew simultaneously. Crows gathered around the arena, cackling. It was his new guilty pleasure; he saw so much of it that it soon became his addiction. He forgot about everything else and watched on, mesmerised.

His first home with his father and mother was near the coast, with beautiful beaches and sparkling waters. Wattlebirds and lorikeets would visit his backyard every morning, singing and chirping to their heart’s content. He remembered his father feeding them every morning. Liam would be standing next to him, watching as the broad-shouldered man patted each bird gently as they came by. The sea breezes would fly past their home, making his wavy hair dance and frolic. His toothy smile was contagious and his laugh was even worse. There was no end once he started laughing. He shivered. He was gone now, wherever he went.

Liam soon felt inclined to join in. His handball was nearly flat from the constant pressure from his right hand as he watched. It was the one thing that he had taken interest in for a while. The internal drive and adrenaline in him that was once dormant, awoke. He looked up to them like he looked up to his dad. The only difference was they were here, right in front of him.

Liam’s mum didn’t talk to him much. It felt solitary; occasional eye contact was made only during dinner. Other than that, there was nothing. She used to be so lively with his dad. After he left, she just went silent. He had pictures of the family together, smiling, hugging, laughing. He hasn’t looked at them ever since, although he knew that they were in his photo book stuffed inside his school bag.

He snuck past the gates and sprinted to the corner of the building. Liam’s breathing grew deeper; he spotted them. It was starting. He knew it was his only chance; there was nothing stopping him. His body was in position, waiting. His heart was in his mouth; this was the moment. Kookaburras crowded on neighbouring trees, anticipating.

He dropped his handball and ran.