It turns out a fight is never worth it. You never win, and when you lose, you tend to lose big.
I had to learn the hard way. Caught in a Hotel hall, my head pounded against a wooden door, an inch thick enough to leave me ringing for a moment. Readjusting my sights at my assailant, I realize it was the man who had a solid fifty pounds on me, whom I’d managed to aggravate with my fiery tongue. Now his weight had me plowed against the door.
It didn’t take long for that change, I’m not new to fighting, and secretly always waited for a fight to breakout in front of my eyes. Fighting him was different, inebriated to a point I hadn’t even reached yet, his hands worked towards my nostrils, pulling on my nose, attempting to subdue through weak spots, another hand worked along my neck squeezing my breathing ways shut.
Within a moments instance, I retaliated shooting him back, pressing against the wall my elbow pressing into his neck, uncaring how much pressure I applied. My leg folds over in one quick motion leaving my knee to jab into his stomach, his grip on my face weakens, though i can feel my nostrils blaring in pain, my breathing heavy at this point.
There is no advantage to being the first to be hit, but perhaps the rage that boils within becomes a driving motivation. Pound for pound I was outweighed, but for strength I could hold my own, but for once, I was going where I’d never gone before. I had my knee pounding into his stomach till his body reeled down, almost falling over on me.
It didn’t take long for his head to be low enough to fall into my arms grab. I twist his head into my grip solid enough that even as he squirms he can’t get out. My right first tightens and it begins to pound into his face, not an inch is missed. It doesn’t take me long to realize what I am doing, his nose is bleeding, crushed by my fist, his cheeks are bruised, and his eyes are half closed.
Later that day the doctor would tell me there were stress fractures outlined along my right arm as I sat there incapacitated in the emergency room, but at that moment fractures never factored in, losing wasn’t an idea to trifle with.
Finally, one thing pauses me, the figure of my friend running down the hall, at first he assumes we’re playing, but we’re not. I look him squarely in the eyes, a moment of calmness in me. Grab security, right away. He mutters a few words back and runs off, I personally wanted no part in the blame, but I would figure out that I would have my handful.
At that moment I realize my grip had slipped on him, he moves up, doing a final push that pummels me to the ground. I try to catch myself on my right arm, only to hear a faint pop drowned out among all the noise of shuffling, fists flying as we collide down.
pop
Another one follows it simultaneously, and I collapse completely, unable to support my body. A numbness shoots through the right side of my body in a rush of adrenaline to negate what was occuring through my body.
Before I have time to think of what is going on, his legs drop around me, his fist flying at my face the other choking me. I left my left arm in a jolt of strength against his neck to press him back, but its already too late. I summon my other arm to follow, but half way in its motion it falls the other away, not at the joint, but directly in the middle of the bone in my arm. It falls over like a lever being activated, my thumb almost tapping my elbow.
I cringe in pain as my arm crashes back to the ground. I raise it again and it wavers like the pendelium of a clock once again to no avail. At that moment, I scream, with pride but at the same time it was a plea. “Get off of me, my arm is broken, this fight is over.”
It wasn’t over. Hardly.
Red hands tightened along my neck, blood rushing through them, a grueling smile on his face, he’d finally taken the upperhand he lost a while ago. Blood dripped through the cavities of his nose, along my chest, trailing down to my stomach. I gasp for breath, but he doesn’t cease and I wonder just how far he’ll go, my left arm doesn’t have the strength to propel two hundred fifteen pounds off of me.
“You’re getting just what you deserve.” He clenches his teeth, tightening his grip further, till a sound slows him down, along the hallway security is running, followed by a crowd of people. He gets up, looking down at me one more time, then runs off into the hallway.
I remember being in the ER talking to the doctor, I told him I would wait out the next ten hours to my surgery without pain medication, and i ask him what really happened?
He said it could’ve been a one in a million fall, but the arm was strained at some point, perhaps months, weeks, hours or even minutes earlier a fracture could’ve built up and that was the final straw.
I sigh and closed my eyes that night just wishing I could’ve held my tongue, and perhaps that I could’ve remembered a human skull is capable of enduring quite a few folds more pressure and impact than my arm ever could’ve.
That was the first fight I lost, and with it went alot of my ego, instead instilled with a humble confidence that would peak over the months to come.
