Fighting For My Life

[VillainousHero]

I think the most pivotal moment of my life was at the age of 15 years.  That was when I was getting beaten down by about twelve plus Hmong punks.   My two younger brothers of 8 and 12 years of age wanted to go play so the begged me for two weeks to take them to the arcade.  It was just a normal sunny summer day like normal.  I finally agreed so we walked towards the arcade.  The arcade was about maybe a mile and a half away.  There was a wooded section that we could take as a short cut.  Well only problem was that at the end of the street just before we were going to cut into the woods was some other Hmong boys.  I'd figure they were just going to the arcade too, it's the normal route.  Well they were walking in front of us and we were slightly behind them.  Then they split into two groups one in front and one behind us.  I could feel something wrong but I'd figure since I was taller than any of them that they wouldn't mess with us.  Then they started to taunt us by throwing rocks but I ignored them.

Suddenly one guy kicks me from behind and I turn around only to get punched in the face.  They all surrounded us.  They started to swear and taunt and sucker punch me repeatedly.  I had enough and I punched the punk who landed the first punch on me, knocking him down and out.  I thought they would back off after that but I was wrong.  Next thing all them punks were all over me, continously puncking and kicking from behind me.  Not a single punk would stand their ground and fight head on.  It was a losing fight for me, I couldn't simultaneously defend and attack.  I was totalling stuck in defensive mode as I feared for my younger brother's life.  I was being hit with rocks from the distance.  They took their shoes off and hammered me with it.  I had to draw all them punks at me.  My younger brothers were stunned and shocked.  Frozen in fear.

I made a short run distance where I could see the punks weren't even touching my younger brothers.  I held my ground for a few more moments.  That's when I really felt a hard knock to me head.  I was either hit by a large stone or totally got punched to the head really hard.  I really couldn't stay and take the beating anymore.  Maybe if I just fall down and they would just leave me alone.  I took a dive to the ground.  They didn't leave me alone.  They stomped on me.  They continously kicked me down each time I tried to get back up.  They stood on top of me and kept giving me a beating.  All this time swearing at me and talking trash.  I remember clearly some of their words.  Why did you punch me?  Why did you kick me?  Why did you fight?  You aint so tough!  You're going to die!.  Several minutes past as I lay there motionless being beatened like a dead horse.  Eventually they grew tired and they left me.  My two younger brothers merely watched the whole thing.

I lay there till the punks were totally gone.  I got up.  Felt all the pain and saw all the blood.  My brothers only said a few words to me.  Are you all right?  You're bleeding from your ears.  There was a pond nearby and I slowly made my way there.  I washed the blood off of me as best as I can.  Since I knew my old man would probably give me another beating too if he saw that I was involved in a fight.  Which was something he always believed that was which I was the cause of it.  I washed the blood from my face and was carefull with the blood from my ears.  I washed the blood from my hands and arms from all that beating I took.  I was still in shock over the event a little surprised that I wasn't dead.

I got up made my walk back home.  It was a slow walk, I was hurting a lot.  Each step was full of pain and anguish, but it would be better to get home before those punks come back.  I was in no condition to kick any ass since I was so beatened up already.  I knew what my mistakes were.  I was too soft.  I didn't fight to kill.  I was fighting to protect and defend.  That was my fault.  I so clearly knew that my younger brothers were endangered but somehow they didn't even get a scratch.   That was okay.  My objective was completed.  My younger brothers were safe.  As my mind replayed the fight, I kind of scared myself.  My choices of fighting to kill instead.  I didn't know I had it in me, but it was there.  A rage that might break loose of it's chains.  Yet it still hasn't to this very day.

[VillainousHero]

Back in the days when I was still a peewee snotnose kid who couldn't speak coherently I had always thought the other kids that I played with were my friends.  There was one incident during a game where you had to hit the other team three times to catch them where one of my playmates got upset.  He hit me back and hard.  Yeah he didn't like to lose.   He was nearly twice my size you could say.  He pushed me down repeatedly and then he took my cap and threw it away.  That did it.

So now I hit him back really hard.  I fought him like a wild beast with my movie kung fu.  All of us practice movie kung fu as kids but I especially was at a much higher level.  So everytime he came at me, I was able to overwhelm him.  He couldn't touch me.  Then he grabbed one of those contruction sticks and started to beat the crap out of me.  At this time all the other kids are now gathered around and are just watching him beat me with the stick.  Well I really was defending myself with my arms and all till he knock my head with the stick.

Now that really pissed me off so I somehow sprung a jump kick on his face.  It was just enough that it stunned him so I grabbed the stick and wrestle it out of his hands.  Now I was still really pissed at him for hitting my head with the stick.  I stood there with a rage in my face full of intention to give him a beating with the stick he was beating me up with.  Then he took off and ran home.  That was a surprise to me.  He's nearly twice my size and after all the beating he gave me, he ran away.  I wasn't satisfied.  I chased after him, but he was too far ahead already.  It also surprised me how fast he ran, because when we play tag I could always catch him.

He made it home.  I stood outside and kept beating on his door for him to come out.  Eventually the door opend and his mom was standing there.  She asked me what's the matter with me.  I replied that he beat the crap out of me.  Well she wouldn't have none of that.  So she started to give me a beating.  I wanted to hit her with the stick but I restrained myself.  She wasn't the person I was mad at.  She kept beating me.  Now I raised the stick ready to strike her, but I didn't.  I hesitated.  Then she saw her chance she grabbed the stick from my hand.  Then she started to beat me up with the stick.  She kepted yelling at me to go home.  That punk was watching from the upstairs window yelling beat him, beat him, repeatedly.  People were watching me getting a beating and no one intervened.  Eventually his mom got tired of beating me and she went back into her house and locked the door.

I stood there.  Looked at their house.  I can see that chicken punk in the window peaking from the side.  He was afraid.  I knew from that moment that all these kids I was playing with, that none of them were my friend.  I didn't play with any of them after that day.  None of them played with me either.  Only one other kid who I thought was a true friend but wasn't in the end said a few words.  Why did you even bother to fight?  I was mad at him in my replie.  He was bigger than I was.  It was just a game.  Why didn't you help me.  That was the end of our friendship on that day.

TBC...

[VillainousHero]

The summer came by and I was a loner.  That's all how I played.  I see the other kids, but they steer clear of me now as I did the same.  This one particular day was a hot day.  Not many kids outdoors.  The few that were outdoors walked down to the pond to play in the water and catch dragonflies or grasshoppers.  Then out of the blue one kid showed up all drenched.

It was strange so I asked him what happened.  He started to tell me how he and another kid went down to the pond.  It just so happened that the other kid was the same punk who gave me a beating and so did his mom.  He was telling me how he and the punk were goofing around on the rafts at the pond.  Then two white men came by.  The two white men made them suck their penises.  I said you're lying.  He said he was telling the truth.  He proceeded to tell me the whole story.  He said the two white men made took them both out on the rafts out to the middle of the pond.  Then while in the middle of the pond they made them suck on their penises.  He somehow jumped into the pond and swam away.  That's why he was all wet.  I believed him now that since I can see a broken reeds on the inside of his shirt sticking out some.

That's when I knew it was trouble.  I went to go tell the punk's mom.  She didn't believe me since we had a past history.  So I had no choice but to go tell the drenched kid's dad.  I knew his dad would be furious and he didn't want me to tell his dad either.  I really didn't have a choice.  I told some other kids to get their parents too.  We met up at the drenched kid's house and I told his dad.  He only half believed me, but he then went to tell the punk's mom.  The punk's mom sort of listen to the drenched kid's dad.  The punk's mom brought a blanket.  I was wondering what for.  So I had to show them the way to the pond.  We all walked fast enough that it was basically a run to the pond.

Just as we got to the edge of the road that was leading to the pond, we all saw a naked boy running down partially covered in broken reeds.  I knew it was the punk that beat me up.  His mom ran over and covered him with the blanket.  I just dawned upon me, that she knew exactly what the blanket was for.  Another adult helped carried the kid back home.  As we hurried back home, the drenched kid's dad was really furious at his son.  He got a reed and really whipped the drenched kid.  I sort of felt sorry for him but he deserved that.  Partially for not wanting to go tell an adult about it either. 

We made it to the punk's house.  They took him in.  I stayed outside for a long time.  I knew we had history.  He wasn't really a friend to me, yet somehow I went out of my way to help save him.  I stared at their house, stared at the sun, stared at the grass and trees.  I finally made up my mind and walked up to the door.  I can still see the scratches from me beating on the door with the stick.  I opened the door and walked in.  I walked upstairs into the room where they've brought him in.  The punk was under a lot of blankets shivering in shock.  For a brief moment I felt sorry for him.  He was stripped, performed sexual acts, molested, and nearly drowned.  I said to him, you're going to be okay now.  That was really the last time I would see him.  I still haven't forgiven him.  In a way, he got what he deserved.  Only that it was a bit much more than what any kid deserves.

It was a few years ago while I was playing volleyball.  He saw me and recognized me as I recognized him the same.  Only difference now was that I was nearly twice his size now.  How strange how someone who was twice my size when we were kids had only grown up to be half my size as an adult.  There was nothing to say.  Really I sort of expected him to apologize for beating the crap out of me as kids but he didn't .  He was ashamed.  Still I didn't say anything.  I didn't even mentioned to him, that the person who probably saved his life was me.  I don't know what stories anyone will tell afterwards from that one shocking day.  Maybe he could've made it back home by himself who knows.  Still that was one day that he was fighting for his life.

[VillainousHero]

It was a whole year that summer came around again and one year older I became from that shocking summer ordeal with me and that punk.  School came by, winter, came by, spring came by, and I was still pretty much a loner.  Anyway a new Hmong family moved into the neighborhood.  The other kids wouldn't play with them becuase they were different and strange looking.  That's what everybody says about them.  There were three boys and they had a toddler sister.  Everybody made fun of the toddler girl and said that her mouth was like a bird's beak. 

Well I became friends with them over a short period.  We did a lot of things together.  The oldest brother was kind of skinny and dark skin.  He had a strange face.  One with slightly forward angled teeth.  The other two brothers were more normal by our kids standards.  Yeah one of them did had a bird beak mouth.  The youngest was my age but he was a tad slow in the head and had a rather oversized head.  Well he wasn't really slow, but slower than the rest of us.  So these kids did get teased quite a bit.  I was just a loner and so it kind of worked out.  Well I was optomistic.

It was one day that I finally did say that their toddler sister really does have a mouth like a bird's beak.  That's was a day that the three of them decided that they weren't going to take any of that.  They pushed me down and started to get physical.  That's when I told them exactly what the other kids were teasing them about.  Bent Teethy, Bird Beak, and Cowhead, were their teased names.  Somehow I found myself in another fight.  Three against one.  All of them bigger than I was.  Bent Teethy was a skinny fellow and physically weak.  He stood nearly two heads taller than I.  Bird Beak was average in size and was a fully over one head taller.  Cowhead was my age but a big bone and big headed kid, strong but slow and nearly a full head taller than I.  I had to use movie kung fu once more.

Bird Beak clearly could out punch me in terms of strength and reach.  I pommel me repeatedly.  I kicked Bird Beak in the guts, and he goes down.  Cowhead was an ogre in punch strength but slow in motion.  He was strong and wouldn't go down in one punch.  I had to rapid punch him in the gut.  He stumbles backwards, but strong ox as he was, he wouldn't go down.  But I had to do a combination of a foot sweep and rapid fire punch to knock him down.  Bent Teethy was fast and had the full advantage of height and reach.  However he was a total weakling and all what he did was pick up sand and toss it in my face and into my hair.  I couldn't hit the guy at all.  It just seemed like the three against one was nothing more than me taking turns at each of them in a handicapped tag team fight.  I knock one down and the other kid is in my face.

I have no idea how long this went back and forth.  It eventually came down to me really knocking Bird Beak down and he didn't get back up anymore.  It was probably a hard gut punch knocking the wind out of him.  Cowhead had to go down as well.  The rapid fire punch wasn't enough to take him out.  So I somehow finished the combo with a kick to the gut to knock the wind out of him.  All that was left was Bent Teethy.  I saw him and he threw more sand in my face.  At the moment of me blocking the impact and closing my eyes, Bent Teethy took off running home.  That coward took off.  I was mad, I took some sand and toss it into Bird Beak's face.  I took another scoop of sand and rubbed that into Cowhead's hair.

I just realized that I was crying and so were they.  I just walked away crying.  I knew they weren't my friends.  I knew it was because I said that their little sister had a bird beak mouth.  As I got close towards home.  My two older cousins were just standing there.  They said that they say the whole thing but didn't know it was me fighting the other three kids.  All I said to them was why didn't they helped me.  I went home crying.

[foromosa]

I never realized you had such a violent childhood. 

[VillainousHero]

i'm so sorry for all the hurt you went through in your younger years.

do u ever seen any of those, whom, fought with u, around now?

Once in a while I see someone that I recognize and they recognize me as well, growing up.  After going through hundreds of fights, I kind of forget how many people I've dealt with.

[VillainousHero]

I never realized you had such a violent childhood. 

That's just the childhood past.  The adult part is way too serious to ever resurface.

[VillainousHero]

There’s one thing about growing up and going to church that brings a realization that makes one question the preaching of love, forgiveness, and salvation from the word of God.  That’s in part due to the children of the pastor that were nothing but a bunch of gangster thugs.  Well just the boys were.  They and their cousins were acting like mafia gangsters.  If you should be different in any way, they sure make your life a living hell.

It was back in the early 80’s and I was about 8 years old or so when I started to go to that newly formed church.  Its one thing to be able to read and comprehend the scriptures, so the thugs made it a point to prove how godly mighty they were.  Something of which I didn’t know was that it really didn’t help my case to constantly get all the Bible quizzes correct while everybody else gets it mostly wrong.  I never saw it coming until one day.

It was small things at first, they pretend to actually pushed me in the hallways or down the stairs, followed by hysterical chuckles.  Of course they fail because I was always quick to catch my balance.  Then they attempted to trip me or seriously kick me from behind.  Of which that failed too.  This would go on week after week at church.  So naturally I went straight to the Pastor, their dad, uncle, elder.  I told him about it but he brushed me off as if it’s not his problem.  I knew it then that I would have to deal it on my own.

Eventually the thugs started to slap the back of my head and that wasn’t enough.  They then eventually started to punch me from behind.  One day I had enough of that abuse.  It was walking through a corridor in the hallway just before the stairs.  I turned around and faced all five thugs.  The doorway was my advantage because they were all on one side and I was on the other.  I kicked and punch and beat them almost one by one as they came through the doorway.  That was day one of when I fought back.  Three of them were knocked down and the remaining two were just cowards.

It wasn’t enough to stop them as the following week they wanted a rematch.  Only this time they brought sticks and attacked me before class.  They chased me down the hallways and once again I used the doorway to my advantage.  Slam it in their face and come out and beat them.  I took several good stick beatings in the process.  I couldn’t fight five thugs with sticks at one time.  Then for some instinctive reaction I used the wall and jump kick off of it.  Landed a good facial on the first thug.  It sort of shocked the rest of them which allowed me to follow up with some rapid fire punches on two more of them.  After knocking down three of them I was able to get my hand on one of the sticks.  The other two thugs started to run away and I chased them.  They ran into the classroom and the teacher was there so I just dropped my stick and walked into the classroom.  The teacher thought we all looked kind of beaten up.  Eventually the other three thugs came to class.  We sat across from each other with evil eyes at each other.

The thugs didn’t bother me for a few weeks after that, but they were just really planning on making me pay for it.  Finally one day, they got all their older brothers and cousins together too.  Now we’re talking about five more thugs of ages between sixteen to eighteen years of age.  So ten of them this time, they had made a plan to trap me in the hallway.  Five of them chased me while the other five waited for me.  They caught me in their trap.  They held me as they each took their time beating the crap out of me.  I was really in for the fight of my life at this moment.  This went on for several minutes, but then a teacher saw what was happening.  He yelled at them and they all took off.   I’m sure he saw who they were and I even told that teacher directly who they were.  He gave me the look of there’s nothing he could really say or do because they were the Pastor’s sons and nephews.

After that incident they sort of left me alone for a while the following weeks.  However one of their younger cousin decided to pick a fight with me.  So the taunts me, kicks me, and then runs away.  He always runs back to his classroom so I couldn’t do anything.  Then one day he does this again and I chase him really close.  I kicked him as he was about to run into his classroom.  Only he fumbled and his head hit the corner on the corridor.  Next thing I saw was that he was bleeding from his forehead.  The teacher took him away and I went to class.  The following week I saw him with stitches on his forehead.  He didn’t bother me anymore after that incident.  The church thugs didn’t bother me anymore after that.

Then one day there was an incident in the parking lot.  Apparently the thugs got into an argument with a rival gang.  The rival gang came out to lay a beating on them.  It was the pastor’s eldest son who got the beating.  Rumor was that they smashed his car up too.  The pastor was furious as the rumors of his gangster sons and nephew’s was all now out in the open.  I thought to myself, that maybe God did it.  However I kind of knew God didn’t do any of that.  Those gangster thugs had it coming and probably why they haven’t been bothering me.  They were too busy fighting that other gang.  Stupid church people tried to defend the church thugs reputation and said it wasn't his fault.  How can it be his fault when the rest of his thugs ran away and left him?  Still you've got to do something pretty assinine to make a rival gang follow you to church.  Somethings I was just to young to understand and will never know.  I do know that there was a huge church falling with members leaving that church following that.

[foromosa]

How many churches did you attend? 

[VillainousHero]

How many churches did you attend? 

So many I lose count...

[foromosa]

All the pastors I knew would have given their sons a good beating for trying that crap.

I've met some pretty cool PK's. I've seen some pretty spoiled/bad ones as well.  Looks like you encountered some bad ones. I hope you have some good childhood memories. Seems like all you did was fight. 

[VillainousHero]

All the pastors I knew would have given their sons a good beating for trying that crap.

I've met some pretty cool PK's. I've seen some pretty spoiled/bad ones as well.  Looks like you encountered some bad ones. I hope you have some good childhood memories. Seems like all you did was fight. 

Every other pastor I knew would've lay down the law on their sons.  I could say this pastor was probably one of the first to just be in it for the money and reputation.  Back then, everybody was really ignorant.  The few with education, were basically annointed leaders.

All I've done was fight.  From childhood to adult.  There are only two reasons that I can think of why.  First, I'm smaller than everybody else.  Second, I was book smarter than everybody else.  Nobody likes a five year old who can do mutliplication and division and reads at fourth grade level.  Nobody likes a fourth grader who reads at a high school senior level.  Everybody wants their children to be a genious, but nobody likes a poor prodigy.  In otherwords, I was labeled a trouble maker, but never understood it.  My own father would beat the living daylight out of me for fighting.  So I always get a double beating regardless.

[VillainousHero]

There’s one rival that I have no idea or can’t remember how it got started with my cousin.  I think that when we were little children, we might have fought over one toy or something and it just carried over.  Maybe it was just the way how he looked at me and likewise how I looked back at him.  Maybe it’s because I saw in him a tough guy and he saw the same in me.

I do remember one clear thing about the way how he fought.  He was a scratcher.  He didn’t punch but grabs and scratches.  I remember the scratch wounds on my face and arms whenever we fought.  It also serves as a reminder constantly for every time afterwards when I see him.  We just fight as that was pretty much our relationship.  At any family gatherings, we just fought at first sight of each other.  The two of us were so much alike in many ways.  We were labeled as trouble makers, tough as nails.

It was only a few years later that when we grew up some, that the both of us just simply couldn’t remember why we were always fighting each other.  Neither of us knows who can beat up whom, but it doesn’t matter.  We both know we’re tough guys and that’s all that matters.  Well more like we both knew that we’re cousins and that’s what matters.

[VillainousHero]

I remember one day in middle school just walking to class minding my own business when suddenly someone started to try to trip me from behind.  I ignored it at first but then it became a punch from behind.  I turn around and saw one of the star football player who's about twice my size saying, you wanna go?  Well he was all muscles weighed in about 180 lbs and he had two more punks backing him up.  Compared to me I was only a shy 100 lbs of skin and bones.  I had no idea what his problem was and I was going to be late for class too.  But whatever, I said yeah let's go.  Since I knew the other two punks were just loudmouth cowards anyway.

He came at me and I gave him a sharp punch to his face.  I thought it would've been enough to knock him down, but someone twice my size wasn't going to go down when I'm too darn busy carrying three text books and three notebooks on my hands.  Basically I was fighting handicapped while his punk buddies were holding his books.  He stood his ground and so did I.  But I took off because it was too open for the three punks to surround me and I didn't know for sure how many more football punks were going to come at me.  This was the first time I had to fight being seriously handicapped and off balance with several textbooks in hand.

Unfortunately class was downstairs, so I had to run that way.  I turn around at halfway at the stairs and looked that the punk was still chasing me.  I tried a jump kick but since he had the high ground it wasn't that effective.  I merely only kicked him in the shin with minimal force.  Again problem with carrying all those other textbooks didn't help me.  He didn't go down and held his ground.  His other buddies were coming to his rescue so I took off again.

I thought I made it to the classroom as I saw the doorway and I slowed down thinking that maybe he would've gave up.  Just as I came to a walking pace at the doorway, he caught me from behind.  Totally surprised me that he was that quick to had caught up with me.  He started to punch me repeatedly as I stood there in the doorway.  He continously threaten me with beating me up later.  The teacher saw what was happening and as the teacher approached, the football punk took off.  I didn't say anything to the teacher, and the teacher didn't ask anything more of it.  I had now idea why I didn't just through my books away and went at him straight on.  Maybe it's because I'm going to see him for the rest of the school year or the next few years until graduation or something.  Maybe I didn't want to lose my honor behing on the ground and picking up my textbooks.

Well I still saw that star football punk throughout school for the rest of the year, but then he never messed with me anymore.  I don't know if he figured out that he wouldn't mess with me anymore or if he realized that he really couldn't fight me head on, one against one.   Maybe he figured I wasn't just another wimpy geek, but was a every bit as athletic as he was and only half his size.  Maybe his head cleared for just a moment and realized he would be kicked off the football team if he was caught fighing, especially against a geek half his size too.  Still wasn't the end of my fights with the football team.

[VillainousHero]

If there’s one thing that makes people want to pick a fight with you, it’s purely being physically smaller than they are.  Sure there’s the sense of honor of never hitting a girl, but when she’s more than a head taller than you are and easily twice as strong as you are what are you going to do?  That’s when I figure that not every fight has to be won or fought with punches or kicks.

The first method is no more than dodging and letting them hurt themselves if it’s the physically aggressive girl type.  The next method is merely just tripping them and making them look foolish when they’re out of balance.  Not that you have to actively try to trip them, but more like letting them trip on themselves.  The last is merely cry.  Nobody likes a crying boy, but people dislike a physically bullying girl more than anything else.  The crying only works simply because I was significantly physically smaller.  These methods work up to a point till I grew physically stronger than the mean girls.  Also they’ll leave you alone if you go beat up their boyfriend instead.