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Gemma Rox
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« on: September 05, 2010, 04:41:43 PM » |
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Hello all!
The following words are not a fable of whimsy and battle, but are instead a rather more personal journey containing a part of my life I’ve chosen to share. I’d like to thank a digital friend who’s recent tale inspired me to delve deeper into myself and pull out this nugget of conflict and cast it for your judging eyes to ponder.
If knowing this you choose to read on and you found it stirred an emotion in you, be it joy or hate, sorrow or compassion then please leave a comment. Nasty or nice, your criticism is always welcome…
Not as Tough as I thought I was….
Sitting in the familiar alleyway while drunks and punks rolled by… crying on the steps opposite the club… probably just looked like a typical Saturday night really. After all, when was the last time you went out in Cardiff and didn’t see at least one drunk girl crying. After all, we are our own worst enemies, the drink makes us lust after men who we’d normally avoid and fall out with friends and lovers when all we really want is to embrace each other.
The clubbers walk by paying no heed to my teary display, they see it every night, one guy might stagger over slurring “are you alright love?” until his mates pull him away and you hear walking down the alley “she’s probably just pissed mate, don’t worry” and any other day his mates would have been right… but not tonight. I wasn’t drunk. I was painfully sober, my entire body was shaking and my right hand was broken… no matter how much I focussed, no matter how much I tried I couldn’t stop shaking… I cursed the heavens, the air was a little cold and I was wearing quite a skimpy outfit but I know that wasn’t why I was shaking…
We’d been at metros, myself a girl of 25 at the time, young and dumb but enjoying life, I didn’t have many girlie friends, always being too much of a tom boy, I led an active life. I box twice a week, I went to the gym and ran most mornings. I was taught from a very early age that when strong feign weakness and when weak feign strength and I’ve followed that mantra my entire life, sometimes to my own oblivion. This mindset is why I still act boisterous and cocky even when I’m hurting.
At this time in my life I had no debts to worry about. Every penny I earned went into holidays, parties or nights on the town and life was pretty great! I usually hung out with guys, Dave and Andy were my main partners in crime, we’d drink and binge and roll into Metros until 4am most nights and wake up the next morning with painful heads and fun memories.
Dave was a skinny guy with a miserable attitude but once you broke down this negative persona, you came to find a sharp dry wit behind his acid tongue! Quite handsome if you were a metal head and found yourself drawn towards the destructive type and most of the girls who attend Metros were… Andy on the other hand was a complete contrast, big and joyful man who bounded through the world care free, he lived off his parents money but we didn’t resent him for that, he was too nice to resent, besides, he was going bald at 23... You have to cut him a break just for that!
Dave was going out with a girl, for the life of me I can’t remember her name but I got on great with her! For the purposes of this account - we’ll call her Mary. She was funny and kind and pretty in a quirky way, all pierced and angry looking, like a hardcore pixie! The guys were at the back drinking and we were on the dance floor… I guess you could call it dancing… to some pounding heavy track. Life was good, life was fun then she walked up.
I do remember her name, I remember it because the police told me. Her name was Kirsty o’Sullivan and she was drunk. She danced around us and stumbled about we didn’t pay much notice, the sight of a drunk girl on the dance floor in Metros is nothing new (hell, most of the time it was me) but she started to bump into Dave’s girl more and more frequently… this is when I really started to take notice of her… I could see Mary getting riled and my natural protective instincts taught me to size up her aggressor. She wasn’t much, maybe 5’5” a little bigger than me but completely wasted and clearly out of her environment. She would have been more at home in Liquid or any of the other dance clubs in Cardiff but she found herself here, sticking out like a sore thumb in her dress and heels, you might as well put a tiara on her head she was such a little princess.
I decided discretion was the better part of valour and pulled Mary away and headed to the bar. She was younger than me maybe 19 and a little worked up “What’s her problem?” I remember her saying and I replied “she’s just pissed, it’s nothing, don’t let it ruin your night”. satisfied that the tension was suitably dealt with. We stood at the bar for a while and chatted and laughed, even writing this it’s annoying me that I can’t remember her name… she was a great girl but soon after this night Dave would be onto the next girl, that was his way.
The hour rolled on peaceably until Kirsty came barrelling over to the bar and knocked into Mary hard, sending her drink flying across the bar. Mary looked up and caught the heavy sigh of the overworked barman and went red apologising even though she didn’t do anything wrong and Kirsty went on oblivious and shouted her order across the bar and chuckled at the apologetic Mary. Maybe she didn’t even know she bumped into her… and maybe she did I don’t know, I just dragged Mary out of there before her mood went from embarrassment to aggression.
“That’s Twice now!” she raged as I pulled her to the back of the club “don’t over-react” I said “she so pissed she doesn’t even know where she is and it’s a small club, accidents happen” I replied, although I don’t think she bought it.
Another 15 minutes passed and the drunk was staggering through the club and again bumped into Mary. By this point Mary had totally lost it. On the dance floor with everyone partying and throwing themselves about, yeah, that’s fine… A second time at the bar… ok that’s annoying… but a third time… she’d had enough. Turning to face Kirsty she raged “What’s your problem!” but Kirsty didn’t reply a single word. She just threw her drink in Mary’s face. Mary was stunned… she wanted an explanation but she wasn’t expecting an all out confrontation! She didn’t know what to do, soaked and shocked she stood there jaw wide open until Kirsty flew at her.
She screamed obscenities and grabbed her hair then slapped her hard across the cheek. The poor girl was overwhelmed but only for a second as I gripped Mary’s shoulders and threw her backwards across the floor out of harms way then stepped in the middle of the carnage my arms outstretched screaming “WOE NOW… CALM THE FUCK DOWN!” I tried to give my voice an authoritive tone and kept my face serene to try and instil some calmness into the chaos. My legs were spread and I was standing sideways to both girls, Turning to look at Kirsty I could see here snarling and panting, her blood clearly up but for now, she stood still. Then turned to see Mary who despite the shock on her face was relatively unhurt, the poor girl was in tears though.
A crowd had gathered at this point and Dave had risen from the back and was running towards his woman. I started to turn back to check to see what state of mind Kirsty was in but instead I was met by a crashing blow to the side of my head, just behind my temple and above my ear. I reeled back stunned and instinctively turned to face her, my feet rotating so my left led while my right bore my weight. It’s funny how my footwork is probably the most vivid memory I had of that night…
My arms, once outstretched, recoiled into my body adopting a defensive stance without me even thinking it. I saw red… my teeth were bared and my eyes filled with hate. I know this because that is what was in my heart. Hate. I pushed off with my right leg twisting my hip and rotating my torso throwing a clean right cross towards her. She was woefully unprepared and her only defence was her instincts telling her to turn her head to protest her face but that really wasn’t much of a defence… my fist corkscrewed and smashed her left cheekbone sending her head snapping backwards as she fell towards the floor, my fist finished it’s brutal arc a full 12” behind where her face once was, my momentum totally annihilating the drunk girl.
I honestly couldn’t say if her eye’s rolled into the back of the head or whether she awoke in the hospital cursing and plotting revenge because this isn’t a story. This was my life and to date, my biggest regret. I can tell you her head made a sickening thud as her prone body dropped to the floor and I can tell you that I almost threw up straight afterwards as the realisation of what I did sank in.
Of course being me I put a brave face on it and acted with bravado and a cocky nonchalant attitude when I really wanted to bury my face into somebody’s shoulder and cry. I attended to the shocked Mary and escorted them outside as the bouncers rushed to the unconscious drunk waiting for a powerful hand to grip my shoulder and demand an explanation but it never did. The guys wanted me to come with them but I told them I was fine and hid my broken right hand behind me. “the police will need an explanation” I continued “and you don’t need to sit here all night for that, go and take care of Mary!” I said with confidence and command. They obliged and took the shaking girl away and then I sat on that familiar step, In that familiar alley and started to cry. Uncontrollably and pathetically.
Later my friends would thank me and tell me how great it was that I stood up to her, they would pat me on the back and make jokes and I would fall in line boasting how if any of them pissed me off, they’d be next but every single joke was a dagger in me. Was she a bitch? Yes. Was she out of order? Yes. Did she start the conflict? Yes. Did she throw the first punch? Yes. Did she deserve what she got?… No. I can’t honestly say it’s alright to punch someone when they’re that drunk, yes her actions were intolerable, but she wasn’t in control of her actions, and I was in complete control of mine, the police would tell me she had a fractured cheek bone but I would escape a GBH or an ABH charge because of my attempts to calm the trouble and the fact that she struck the first blow, but I did get an official police caution against my name.
Some of you might have been expecting an epic tale of two beautiful vixens raging against each other with the battle flowing too and fore, a seductive tale that pulls on our darker urges and arouses the little daemon we all have inside, but life isn’t really like that. Sometimes a single punch it all it takes and leaves more than just physical damage… I do, however, hope you found my memories well, and that you enjoyed sharing my heartfelt ramblings.
So there you have it. My darkest secret put out there for all to bare witness, the shame I hold and the regret I carry, but don’t feel sorry for I’ve moved on, it took a while, I didn’t go back to boxing for 6 months but now my life is my own again. But still some days I remember myself, sitting on that doorstep, shaking and crying and I think to myself…
I’m not as tough as I think I am…
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