The sound of flesh on flesh could be heard from the alley; a male towered over the unconscious body of another, his face bruised and bloodied beyond recognition. A crimson red splattered onto the untouched facade of the assailant, wiping it off with a light flick of his wrist, abruptly stopping this action before turning towards the entrance. For a moment, his hands tightened, tensing themselves around the unconscious boy's collar, straining himself to hear what sounded like footsteps approaching closer and closer with vigor evident in each.
The male touched his forehead, feeling what felt like water. He looked up and saw that clouds had rolled over, bringing along rain and a light breeze with it. As he averted his attention back to the footsteps, he saw a hooded figure with hands wrapped in bandages emerge from into the confined space. The figure took in the surroundings for a rapid second, stepping closer as he leaned into the predicament before him. With scrunched eyebrows, he cracked his back and then his knuckles.
Beads of sweat traveled down the assailant's temple, seemingly scrutinizing the unknown figure for a rapid moment, his eyebrows scrunching. He spoke with urgency, "The hell are you doin' here?" Then, suddenly, he came to a realization. "I know why," he gritted his teeth, "and it ain't pretty."
The figure stood there, motionless, not wanting to respond to the male's question. It seemed that his attention was drawn elsewhere.
Noticing this, the male dragged the body of the unconscious boy. "We don't welcome people like you around here—" he threw the unconscious boy towards the feet of the unknown male, unapologetically shooting a bird, "—it takes away from the integrity we built."
The figure talked uncomfortably to himself, seemingly not paying any mind to what the male was saying. "Don't call me Lil Dust," he muttered. "I'm a massive man Dustin now. Nah—I'll be back before ya know it. Can't afford to miss supper..."
The male stared at the figure confusedly, trying to make sense of what he was saying. "What...?" Suddenly, he gritted his teeth and pumped his chest. "'Nough talkin'. Stop sayin' nonsense I don't understand and raise them. I've been itchin' for a scrap anyways."
Snapping himself back into reality, Dustin sighed. Closing his eyes in pensive thought, he reminisced for a moment. He brought his hand to his face, caressing the bags underneath his eyes before scratching his neck sequentially.
In an unexpected, rapid motion, he suddenly opened his eyes—his calloused knuckle meeting flesh and bone before shoveling back from the male after landing a strong blow to his jaw.
Reeling back from the impact and gripping his jaw in pain, the male briefly retaliated with a punch of his own, only to be met with air as Dustin ducked down to grab the male's forward leg; but he saw that coming, sprawling wide to stuff it. Unfortunately, his head flung back as it made full contact with the brunt of Dustin's knee.
Water flung chaotically into the air, the male falling flat on his behind with the concrete there to break his fall. Blood spewed vigorously from his blistered lip, feeling that his teeth had been pushed back into his mandible when he felt around with his tongue. His vision was blurring, but the adrenaline running threw him kept him awake. He spat the blood out, tasting and smelling iron as he did.
Dustin landed on his own two feet before staggering down, both hands gripping his throbbing knee—a current of pain flashing through him. He plopped onto the concrete, grinding his teeth together to distract himself from the pain.
Noticing this, the male, with the remainder of his consciousness, tried rushing towards Dustin but was only met with the wet concrete of the alley they were fighting on face first. He felt himself faltering, felt his breathing become irregular, and felt his consciousness being stripped from him. Before long, he fell unconscious.
"Son of a bitch!" Dustin cursed between labored breaths. His knee was throbbing intensely from landing that blow to the jaw—he wasn't going to be attempting that again anytime soon.
Limping, he trotted towards the unconscious male, scavenging through the boy's pockets to find anything of value; this resulted in him finding a fat wallet and a phone. He tucked the items into the black linen jacket he had stolen from another jerk and flipped the male onto his back, dragging him onto the sidewalk.
After catching his breath, Dustin cursed at himself as he felt his hand trembling. He rummaged through the pocket of his jeans and pulled an inhaler, placing it towards his mouth. Dustin rapidly pumped the inhaler in intervals until he felt light-headed enough to feel himself shaking.
Placing the inhaler back into his pocket, he pulled the stolen phone out. He grabbed the unconscious adolescent's thumb and pressed it against the sensor, unlocking it and allowing him to type a number.
"Hey," he called into the phone, before it hung up, "feckin' hell..."
Rapidly, he typed the number again and waited until it picked up, "What in the–"
"Sorry, fam! Wasn't expectin' you to call, Brennan!"
"Told you to call me–"
"—Dustin! Yeah, yeah! But wouldn't that be awkward, fam? We've only met each other a couple of months ago. Can't be usin' each other's names like that!"
"You feckin' eejit! This ain't Japan or whatnot! Just use my damn name and be done with it! Understand, lad?"
"Didn't quite get that–"
"UNDERSTAND!"
"Alright, alright! No need to be hollerin' like a beagle now, fam!"
"Just call the damn cunts and be done with it, lad..."
"On it!"
Dustin then hung up on the call and placed the phone back into his pocket,
"To feckin' hell with him..."
Turning away, Dustin prepared to leave but then remembered something. This caused him to groan.
After waddling back into the alley and bringing the unconscious body of the student on his back, he walked a long distance away from the scene before calling the ambulance, placing the unconscious body on a nearby bench so the paramedics could find him more easily.
Limping away on one side from the throbbing pain that his knee provided him with, Dustin ignored the looks he got from other passersby, who stopped to peer at his state, which was understandable. His face had several cuts with blood trailing down his neck, though most of it was washed away thanks to the pouring rain. It also washed away some of the dirt and grime that covered his body and clothing. The black linen jacket he was wearing had been ripped in several places, primarily on the backside from scuffles that had gone to the ground.
"A shower would be nice, yes?" he mumbled to himself as he leaned into the passenger seat of the Uber he had called. He pulled his phone out and looked at his bank details, noticing that he had been paid. Now smiling because he hadn't been pawned, he went onto his photos, scrolling through his camera roll. He suddenly stopped at a picture of him with his family. With trembling hands, he placed his phone back into his pocket.
"Have a great day, sir," said the Uber Driver before driving off to pick up his next clientele
Looking up, Dustin stared at the large apartment complex before him with disdain. It wasn't in the best shape, and the weather wasn't doing it any favors by making its surroundings gloomier and darker than before. Now loathing the walk that he would have to endure, he trudged himself up the spiraling stairs, kicking up water and dirt until he arrived on the third floor. He walked towards his apartment door while fumbling with his keys.
He stood outside the door for a minute, his mind spacing out for a second. Dustin rubbed his eyes groggily, pain starting to spread throughout his upper and lower body. With scrunched eyebrows, he plugged the keys into the keyhole and opened the door with some difficulty.
Dustin walked through, closing the door behind himself before heading towards the bathroom immediately. He turned on the bathroom light, leaning his forearm on the sink as he opened the drawer below him with his free hand.
After rummaging and feeling around with his fingers, he was finally able to find what he was looking for. He opened it and pulled out what seemed to be a pill. Without any water to drink it down, he placed the pill into his mouth and swallowed it.
Hey...
He heard a voice behind himself but didn't bother turning. Tiredly, he turned the faucet and splashed his face with water before turning it off. He stood there, simply staring at himself in the bathroom mirror. He felt more awake thanks to the water, but he felt like he was teetering on the edge. He blinked once, twice, and so on. He continued this action for a long while, the blinking only serving to make him sleepier rather than help him.
With a sigh, he took off his black, linen jacket and white t-shirt before throwing them into the bathtub. The jagged scar on his brow stared back at Dustin when he pulled his hair, gently touching it with his fingertips.
Suddenly, he stopped and closed his eyes, collapsing onto the floor of his bathroom unconscious...