The Worst Beating I Ever Took (Patreon)

CONTENT WARNING

As the title suggests, this is the story of the worst beating I ever took. It is not game-related or industry-relevant, there's no uplifting moral to it, and it contains descriptions of blood, violence, and pain.

If that doesn't sound like something you want to read, please skip it with my blessings.

Flashbacks

What I want to do is sleep. But all I can do when I close my eyes is relive flashbacks from the worst beating I ever took, from the summer of 1987.Sometimes writing about things helps.I was 16, and at a friend's apartment. We heard a woman screaming for help outside.Looking out a window, we saw an attractive woman in a car, screaming. A massive man had his arm partway in the window on the driver's side (I assumed she has rolled it up on him as he reached in), and was pounding on the glass.It was night, and no one else seemed to be around.My friend and I quickly agreed that he would call the police (landlines only for us at the time), and I would run out and see if I could help.Arguably, the choice to go physically inject myself into this situation when no one was at that exact moment being hurt, was stupid.I ran to the parking lot, through a tiny play area the apartment complex had right next to parking, and from a distance of roughly 50 feet shouted "Hey, everyone okay?!"The enormous, heavily muscled man tore his arm out of the car window and screamed obscenities at me.The woman immediately threw her car into reverse and peeled out of the parking spot. I remember seeing her make-up and hairstyle, but did not note anything else about her or her car.The huge man screamed in rage and ran after her car.She backed into the street, threw it into drive, and tore off down the road. I never learned anything else about her.The huge man ran a few steps after her, still screaming.I stood where I was, watching in stunned surprise. This too could, arguably, be called stupid.Then the huge man stopped, yelled a few more times, turned around, and saw me. He screamed more obscenities and charged at me. He was, at that point, 75-90 feet away.He was extremely swift. I have never been swift. It was immediately clear to me I could not escape him on foot.I did, however, have a moment -- more than 1 second, less than 3 -- before he reached me.The parking lot being all concrete, I instantly decided to reposition myself so I was standing in front of the sandbox in the play area, assuming being knocked down would hurt less there.He ran to me and slammed his right fist into the left side of my head. I don't know if you've ever been punched in the cheek, below the eye socket and above the jaw.I can't recommend it.I was knocked down, and the impact tore open the inside of my cheek where it hit my teeth.I don't remember landing in the sandbox, but I am pretty sure it was less painful than the parking lot would have been.The huge man then proceeded to repeatedly and forcefully kick me. I don't know many times, but it was "many." What details I remember from the beating are odd.For example, I recall he both kicked and stomped on me with his feet, but have no idea how many times. I can't remember what he looked like at all, or what he was wearing. I have no memory of him making any noise during this, which seems extremely unlikely.I remember with crystal clarity realizing at one point that he was kicking me in the gut, and that I could straighten my legs to slam both of them into the front of his left knee. It looked like he had locked his knee, and my instinct was that I'd do massive damage to it.I remember with equal clarity deciding that kicking the front of his knee was not something I wanted to do. That absolute surety of conviction is clear in my mind, but not for certain why. I recall, only vaguely, not wanting to escalate the situation by breaking his bones.I also remember deciding I should curl up as much as possible, using my arms to protect my head, and my legs to protect my gut (such as I could - I was morbidly obese even then).But that act on my part is the last thing I clearly remember about the beating.I have no idea how long it went on, though it can't have been more than a few minutes at most. I don't remember why or how he stopped. I don't remember my friend arriving, though he later told me he got there after the beating was over and the police arrived.My next memory after trying to protect my head and gut is sitting on a curb with a police woman asking me questions, and a medic checking to see why I was spitting up blood.It was because the inside of my cheek was torn up like raw hamburger.I can't really remember much more about the conversation with either police woman or medic. I do remember the police woman telling me that if I did not know the man or woman and could not describe either of them or the car, there was no point in giving a statement.She was equally clear that I COULD give a statement if I wanted to, that it would involve being driven to the station, take several hours, and that no medical care would be provided.I opted not to give a statement.I remember nothing else after that point about that evening.I remember the next morning better, though not perfectly.I was so badly bruised on my left side and gut that it was hard to walk, stand, get out of bed, or even sit up. My cheek was glued to my teeth with dried blood, which also coated my lips. I couldn't straighten my left leg.I was still living with my parents, who obviously asked what had happened. I told them, as best I could recall. I am pretty sure they followed up with my friend.I did not go see a doctor. I don't remember the issue even coming up.The last bruise faded about a month later.And that's it.I don't know who those people were, how the situation got started, or what happened to them. I have a single snapshot memory of what they looked like when I first arrived, and no other context.The flashbacks didn't start until years later, and are rare.They suck.