(aka Bike) Part 1898 by Angharad Copyright © 2012 Angharad
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By the time I’d drunk my coffee and gone for a wee I’d lost all enthusiasm for shopping. I decided instead I’d fill up the car and head for home. I felt quite dispirited by the appeal for the refuge and then seeing someone who could possibly use its services.
As I headed out of the store I saw her again, a car pulled up and a man got out and instead of helping her to load a trolley full of groceries into the boot of the car, he stood there and harangued her. He had to be the bully who beat her up. Before I’d thought my legs had propelled me to the car and I said loudly to him, “Instead of shouting at her, why don’t you help her, you stupid oaf.”
He gave me a look of pure malice and it made my flesh creep. “Fuck off, go and poke your nose somewhere else you nosy cow.”
“And if I don’t?” my hackles were well and truly risen.
“Then I’ll have to show yer, won’t I?”
“Like you did your wife? Like beating up women do you?”
“Go to hell.”
“Make me, you nonce.” By now we had a small crowd and whether it made me feel braver or just reckless, or whether it was simply my anger which had now gone from red hot to white hot, caused me to face him down. Instead of walking away as common sense would normally dictate I stepped closer. I was deliberately provoking him to do something stupid in front of witnesses and CCTV.
His colour went from red to bright red and part of me hoped he’d have a stroke but he didn’t he got in his car and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. I called him a coward and a bully and went to my own car.
I filled up with diesel and drove out of the store. About fifty yards down the road he pulled out of gateway and began to follow me. That was okay, I’d be ready for anything he tried except for a gun and I was pretty sure he didn’t have one of those.
As we passed a lay-by he suddenly accelerated and forced me to pull into the side of the road where he jumped out of his car and strode towards mine. I grabbed my keys and slipped across to the passenger seat and slipped out of the door. My Jaguar was between us.
“You’ve got this coming, bitch.”
I was so keyed up I actually burst out laughing. This enraged him even further and he ran round my car grabbed at me, which I parried and pushed him as he flew past. He crashed into the back of his own car with quite a bang.
I stepped away from the cars giving him and easier run and me more space to react. He turned and swore at me. “I’m gonna kill yer, bitch.”
“Are you now?”
He dashed at me and I sidestepped and back kicked as he went past, this time he fell headlong onto the muddy tarmac. It took him a moment to pick himself up. He brushed off some of the dirt and I saw his mouth was bleeding where he’d bitten his lip or his tongue.
This time he, swearing, he walked at me each of us intending to administer the coup de gras. He rushed at the last moment causing me to rush my kick which knocked him backwards and I had to follow it up with a second which caught him full in the chest and propelled him back further. The third dropped him and he fell on his back on the grass verge beside the lay-by.
I quickly examined him, he was badly winded and would be severely bruised possibly even with some cracked ribs. I felt no sympathy. I went to his car, his wife’s nose was bleeding and the child had a bruise on her face.
“Did he hit you?”
“What’s it to you?”
“A great deal.”
“You realise he’ll kill us now.”
“C’mon, get in my car.”
“Why, what for?”
“I’ll take you home for some of your clothes and then I’ll take you somewhere safe.”
“I ain’t goin’ to no police station.”
“Fine, neither am I. C’mon, hurry before he wakes up.” I practically shoved them in the back of my car and reversing back I flung his keys into the bushes before driving off.
Half an hour later, I’d helped her carry armloads of clothing into the boot of my car. “Is this really your car?” asked the daughter.
“Yes it is.”
“It’s nice.”
“I think so.”
I took them back to the house and got Stella to check them over. She was equally appalled by the bruises and burns.
“Is this your house?” asked the daughter whose name was Hannah.
“My father’s, yes.”
“Wow, it’s big.”
“Yes, I suppose it is.”
After Stella had checked them over and we’d had a cuppa, I took them over to the cottages we’d converted the stables into, David had the one and I was proposing to let this woman, Ingrid, and her daughter loan until they’d got themselves sorted.
“I ain’t got much money,” she mumbled when I showed her the cottage.
“I haven’t asked you for any, have I?”
“No, but we can’t stay for nothing.”
“You can for a few nights, until you decide what you want to do.”
“I can’t go back–after what you done, he’ll kill both of us.”
I nodded. “I’ll bring you in some basics–tea bags, milk and bread plus some cold meat for your lunch, you must have dinner with us this evening.”
“I don’t like to impose,” she said and blushed.
“Don’t worry about dress–we all wear jeans and things.”
“Oh,” she said and a fresh wave of redness washed over her face.
“I’m Cathy, by the way. I’ll introduce the rest of the cast when you come over for dinner–say six?”
She nodded still blushing and her eyes full of tears. “Why are you helping us?”
“I despise bullies.”
“Can you teach me how to do that fighting?” asked Hannah.
“We’ll see. Now get yourselves settled in, there are towels in the bathroom and bedding in the cupboard, so if you don’t mind sorting yourselves out I have a few things to do.”
“More lame ducks or is it lost kittens?” quipped Stella.
“He hit them both after I’d challenged him in the car park and before he attacked me on the roadside.”
“A right bastard.”
“Yeah, I’ve got his car number I’m going to have a word with the police.”
“Is that wise, given you laid him out and left him?”
“He was coming round as we drove off, besides he started it.”
I called the central police station and asked to speak to Andy Bond. I quickly explained what had happened and he agreed to come over and take statements later on. Then I phoned the refuge and offered them another thousand.
Comments
i despise bullies as well.
A freinds daughter has not long left an abusive relationship, it makes my blood boil that there are such pathetic guys that can hit a woman (or anyone weaker) gutless cowards.
it's been a long time since i allowed anyone to bully me, and oddly it was just a few sessions of martial arts classes that turned the tables from me being scared to realising size doesn't always mean everything, the element of surprise and a few ideas make all the difference.
Oddly it is the confidence in oneself that makes the bullies look for a weaker target.
I anticipate that there will be comments that there are
... just as many female abusers as male ones. *rolls eyes*. All I can say is that in either case, they should just walk away. It is usually easier for a man to do so as they usually make the greater amount of money. In the majority of cases, the physical damage a man can inflict on a woman is far greater than vice versa.
Kim
Actually
There aren't as many female abusers as male ones.
BUT it doesn't mean that it's isn't as horrid. If you'd have ever worked with male rape victims you would have known that it's actually harder for the males in our society to get help in this sort of cases, as there is no support system and people treat male victims as the one to blame.
It's actually a lot harder for male victims to "go out of the closet" about being abused and even when they are the police wouldn't be as active and the have no shelter they can go to. They also face a problematic situation as courts wouldn't be as favorable towards them ( they might still have to give some money to the abusers in a case of the divorce) so even escaping might be hard.
All in all I would say your comment is an ignorant one, and one that I don't really realize ( was it spurred from deep sympathy to the abused females or deep hate towards guys),but believe someone who've dealt with abused males and females: BOTH have a hard time , a really hard time.
Lily.
Re: Actually ----> !!Possible Triggers!!
You mentioned male rape victims, something I know about all too well. I was born male, legally I still am male although I've been on hormones for many years, almost a quarter of a century now.
I've been the victim of male to male rape four times. The first time, I was 4.5 years old, the boyfriend of my then adulterous foster mother found me in my room and had his way with me. This caused me such emotional trauma that I blocked it away for thirty years, only to have it come up after I fell into a trance state one evening in front of about fifteen women in a homeless shelter where I was living at the time. I can tell you that that freaked the heck out of me, especially as I was told that I apparently regressed significantly while reliving it; from what others there said to me afterward, I was talking like a four or five year old throughout.
My adoptive father was an arse, he knew damn well that I had been diagnosed as gender dysphoric when I was four years old, as he and his wife were told about it prior to the adoption. From what I can remember, he told the adoption agency that he would beat it out of me, he would "make me a man if it killed him". This jerk beat me regularly with a belt for about seven years, eventually it was so bad that a large part of my back and legs were constantly black and blue, which forced me to wear full pants and long sleeves year round so people wouldn't see it.
In August of '80, about three months after I turned 14, I stood up to my then adoptive father and told him that I would kill him if he ever laid a hand on me again. Considering that, at that time, I was 4'5" and less than 70 lbs, whereas he was 6'1" and 210 lbs, something in my voice must have gotten the message across to him, as he avoided me like the plague for the thirteen months between then and my arrival at the group home. My standing up to him was the beginning of the end of the adoption.
The second, third and fourth times all occurred at a group home for "troubled" boys. I ended up there in late September of '81, 4.5 months after my fifteenth birthday. The rapes in the group home occurred over a four month period between November '81 and March '82, and were a part of my deciding several months later that I would eventually transition, although it took another ten years before I actually started that process.
What really galls me, and has for nearly 34 years now, is that far too many people will flat out tell me that a male CANNOT be raped, only women can. This is absolute and utter bullsh*t, I would think that the numbers of cases of inappropriate sexual acts committed by priests around the world would have made it very clear that it happens far more often than people think it does.
If that wasn't enough to screw me up, you might want to consider the time I was gang raped by six girls at a party I had gone to, when I was to all intents and purposes permanently grounded, except for school, after my telling my adoptive father I would kill him. I had sneaked off to the party, had some fun there for several hours, then fell asleep on a bed, only to wake and find myself tied to it and six girls standing around it.
I can't count how many times that I've been flat out told that a female cannot rape a male, I know damn well they can, and some do.
I apologize for this turning into a bit of a rant, but rape has always been a trigger for me, and "talking" about it helps me to settle down.
Good to have a friend in the police
But we'll probalby find out that the guy is a cop too.
Need Cathy's family lawyer and doctor to take statements, pictures, etc. ASAP. Build that case NOW!
Nice to read ...
of some bully getting their 'cum-uppance'.
An enjoyable and satisfying chapter.
Thanks Ang. Still lovin' it.
XX
Bevs.
Bullies are cowards and
get their demented jollies by inflicting pain upon weak others. Ingrid and her daughter are prime examples of their victims.
May Your Light Forever Shine
I'm glad...
I'm glad Cathy decided to give the refuge some more money... I do hope the "guy" can get what he has coming to him without anyone being permanently hurt.
I was right that Cathy might see him attacking again, and intervene. Didn't go the way I expected, but that's good.
Thanks,
Annette
Way to go, Cathy!
It is nice in a remembering what Cathy is capable of doing sort of way, to see that Cathy still can hold her own against others. Something to do with the care of battered women might what Shekinah wants Cathy to do. A dream ending in abuse, the radio changing stations on its own, and then meeting Ingrid and Hannah sure leads one to think so.
Another very good episode, and is dealing with probably the worst problem a woman has to face - physical abuse.
Don't let someone else talk you out of your dreams. How can we have dreams come true, if we have no dreams?
Katrina Gayle "Stormy" Storm
Child ABuse
I received this from another email box. It is heartbreaking, to say the least. Thank Goodness Hannah is out of the loop for now.
My name is Chris ,
I am three,
My eyes are swollen..
I cannot see.
I must be stupid,
I must be bad,
What else could have made,
My daddy so mad?
I wish I were better,
I wish I werent ugly,
Then maybe my mommy,
Would still want to hug me.
I cant do a wrong,
I can speak at all,
Or else Im locked up,
All day long.
When Im awake,
Im all alone,
The house is dark,
My folks arent home.
When my mommy does come home,
Ill try and be nice,
So maybe Ill just get,
One whipping tonight.
I just heard a car,
My daddy is back,
From Charlies bar
I hear him curse,
My name is called ,
I press myself,
Against the wall.
I try to hide,
From his evil eyes,
Im so afraid now,
Im starting to cry.
He finds me weeping,
Calls me ugly words,
He says its my fault,
He suffers at work.
He slaps and hits me,
And yells at me more,
I finally get free,
And run to the door.
Hes already locked it,
And I start to bawl,
He takes me and throws me,
Against the hard wall.
I fall to the floor,
With my bones nearly broken,
And my dad continues,
With more bad words spoken.
Im sorry! I scream,
But its now much to late,
His face has been twisted,
Into a unimaginable sh ape.
The hurt and the pain,
Again and again,
O please God, have mercy!
O please let it end!
And he finally stops,
And heads for the door,
While I lay there motionless,
Sprawled on the floor.
My name is Chris ,
I am three,
Tonight my daddy,
Murdered me.
And you can help,
Sickens me to the soul,
If you read this,
And dont pass it on.
I pray for your forgiveness,
You would have to be,
One heartless person,
Not to be affected,
By this Poem.
And because you ARE affected,
Do something about it!
So all I ask you to do,
Is pass this on!
IF YOU ARE AGAINST CHILD ABUSE!
Post this as Daddy ... It hurts
If you do not send this to everyone you know
Then you obviously dont care about child abuse.
At first I thought this was just a chain letter
And I wasnt going to send it either,
But now I realize that this is an important situation.
- At least 5 children each day from around the world;
die from child abuse!!!!
This happens across the board,
no matter how much money they have or their ethnicity :(
Don't let someone else talk you out of your dreams. How can we have dreams come true, if we have no dreams?
Katrina Gayle "Stormy" Storm
Cathy did
exactly the right thing in removing the woman and her daughter from danger, In the circumstances there was little else she could do, Hopefully Simon will agree and they can do something to help the poor woman find a way to move forward away from the pathetic person who calls himself a man..
Kirri