The Assault – Part 1
The smell of pot and alcohol was enough to choke me as I walked through the party looking for my friends. The occasional asshole would happen past and make some lame remark like I was gay, a fag, a woman, you name it. The music was enough to drown out most of the comments.
“Nathan!” I yelled when I saw him smoking a cigarette with a few other guys.
“Hey, Kyle! How’s it going?” he asked as he gave me a hug, “I thought you weren’t coming tonight.”
“I changed my mind,” I said, my eyes still scanning the room. “Have you seen Sam?”
“I saw her a while ago,” Nathan said, “She was in the den sitting on the couch with Eric.”
“Thanks,” I said as I sidestepped off around some other kids and entered the den.
The smoke was somehow thicker in there. I could smell the faint aroma of vomit lingering in the air as well. I plugged my nose and squinted my eyes to try to make it through. All the furniture was abandoned except one kid, Juno.
“Hey, man, you want some?” Juno said before taking a hit of the joint in his hand.
“No, thanks, have you seen Sam anywhere by chance?” I asked.
“She went upstairs, I think. She wasn’t looking too good,” he replied.
“Thanks,” I said as I turned back toward the front door where the staircase led upstairs.
The sound of police sirens cut through the music suddenly. As though a lion had spooked a herd of wildebeests, everyone in the party began running toward the back of the building. I saw Nathan run past me, his eyes glazed from the alcohol consumption.
I reached the bottom of the stairs as Eric reached the top. He was buttoning his pants and gave me a quick smile as we passed on the stairs.
Oh, no, Samantha, why would you do that… I thought as my stomach turned.
I checked the first two doors to find nothing, in the third room is where I saw her. Her eyes were tear-filled, her clothes had been torn, it looked as though she had been in a bad fight. Her eyes were locked on the floor when I went into the room, and she shied away when I sat next to her, pulling her torn shirt over her shoulder.
“Sam? Are you okay, hun?” I asked.
For the first time since entering the room, she turned to me. My stomach turned again as the anger built in me, threatening to overwhelm me. The right side of her face looked as though it had been smashed with a tenderizer.
“That motherfucker,” I said. “Come with me.”
We rose and walked out the front of the house together. The kids were still scattering as I walked straight up to the cop. When he saw the damage to Sam’s face, the blood drained out of his, and he rushed to us.
“What happened?” He asked.