Blood On My Face
The Family Business, Chapter 11
They are waiting for me as I step through the gate and into the shortcut down the hill.
How long they have been there, I don’t know.
There are three of them, and I can tell by their expressions they aren’t looking to have a friendly chat.
Kurt, the tall, thin one with long, stringy black hair, sneers at me and hisses, “We’ve been waiting for you, Martin…”
They all chuckle.
They are all dressed in black slacks with black shirts. The other two are shorter than I am, all skinny, all with long hair. I don’t know their names, but I have seen them around school. I think they are a grade ahead of me, like Kurt.
I feel a sharp stab in my belly as a fist smashes into it and searing pain in my shins as someone’s toe connects first with the right, then with the left leg. I fall to my knees and feel my knees scraping concrete.
Fear washes over me, starting in my toes and working tightly into my gut. Suddenly freezing, I feel like I’m going to be sick.
Seeing no way to escape, I lose my hope that this won’t hurt.
I hate pain. Maybe more than anything else in the world, I hate pain.
