The Agony and The Victory, Part Two

Photo of Our Lady of Guadalupe painting in Chiapas, Mexico by J. Sharland

One day, I had to leave school early, as I had started my period, and not only was the flow heavy but so were my cramps. I was in a lot of pain. I asked my teacher if she would let the studio know that I couldn’t go clean or be there for my training classes today, and I went home.

When I walked into the house, I heard my mother screaming. I ran into the bedroom and saw a half-naked goon using both fists on mother’s face. She had blood all over her and was passing out, I could see from the sudden drop of her raised arms, which was useless against stopping the man’s punches.

I ran up to the bed screaming “Stop!” but the guy just gave me a sneer and a growl and turned back to his job with a fist in the air for his final punch. Before his arm moved downward, I jumped on his back and gave him a chop to his neck. Not enough of a jab to do much damage since I was in the wrong position, but it got his attention. He moved off my mother and came after me, which is what I wanted.

He stood up and took a swing at me. I dodged out of the way, and he came for me like a boxer with no gloves. I went in low sideways and kicked out at his knee the way I had been taught. He howled. He was also really pissed. Before he regained momentum, I kicked him squarely in the balls. He screamed like a girl and doubled over, at which time I punched him in the nose and he really screamed. As he bent over, I kicked him at the side of his head at his temple, and he went down.

Before he could move again, I ran into the kitchen, and grabbed some twine that was in a box in a cupboard and ran back to the bastard, and tied his hands really tight; I wanted to cut off his circulation. I then tied his ankles together, also tightly. I didn’t want the guy to get away as I ran into the living room to call an ambulance and the sheriff’s department.

The ambulance came quickly, I was happy to see, as my mother, although breathing, was still unconscious. I was worried sick.

When the emergency vehicle stopped in front of our house, and three orderlies came rushing in, one of the technicians looked at me in alarm, “You’re really hurt! How did it happen?”

I looked down to where his eyes were directed and saw that my pad had not held. Blood was running down my legs. I had forgotten altogether about starting my period, and said, “I’m fine, I’ve started my period today, that‘s why I came home. It’s my mother that needs help. She’s in here.”

I led him to the bedroom. They took one look at the man trussed up on the floor then rushed to the bed. One of the men took vital signs while the other two ran out to get the gurney.

While Mother was being lifted onto the bed on wheels to be taken out to the ambulance, the sheriff and two deputies walked in. They didn’t have to ask why they had been called, the situation was obvious, at least to a point, seeing the bloody woman being strapped to the gurney and taken out and the man tied up on the floor. But what perplexed them was who had intervened and tied the guy up.

When they heard my story and looked down at the puddle of blood I was making on the floor, the Sheriff said, “Young lady, we need to ask you more questions, but you should go clean up first. I’m having a hard time with some of the things you told me, like the fact that you are the one who tied this big dude here up. So go on, clean up, and we’ll have ourselves a conversation in a few minutes. Okay?”

“Yes, of course,” I told him, but first I want to see my mother.” 

I walked to the ambulance as two men were putting the bed up into the back. I ran up to grab my mother’s hand before she was slid back inside. She was unresponsive when I held her hand, but told her that she’d be all right, and I would come to the hospital soon. I thought I felt a small squeeze as the men, said, “We have to go now.”

The sheriff came up to me and told me that he’d drop me off at the hospital after we chatted. I went inside and took a quick shower, changed clothes, and walked out to see one of the sheriff’s vehicles drive away with the man inside who seemed to have come to and was mad as hell, the way his voice carried and seeing him thrashing around through the window.

“Okay, young lady, how do you explain what happened that you could get the better of Ray Sloane here? He’s a mean son-of-a-bitch, and has put many a woman in the hospital. Unfortunately, none of them would press charges. I’d heard that he and his sidekicks threatened to burn their houses down if they said anything. Our hands were tied. So tell me, how did this come to be?”

I told him quickly about my classes with Clay Jefferies because I was just so tired of bullies hurting me and my mother, and I learned well. 

“You can ask Mr. Jefferies,” I told the Sheriff.

“Okay, I might do just that, but I want to hear it from you about today, if you will explain, please.”

I told him again about leaving school early and walking into the house to hear my mother screaming. 

“I can’t help but think how lucky it was that I started my time of month today, or my mother might not have made it.” I paused and shuddered at my words and the truth of them. Then I continued telling him that when I heard the screams and saw the asshole pounding on her face I lost it and used every move I could think of to get him off her.

“I actually surprised myself when I got him all tied up. It was as if it was happening to someone else. But I guess that when needed most we all have an inner strength to do what needs to be done, and I found mine.”

I looked at the man in uniform, waiting for more questions. But he just looked at me, pondering the situation and then shook his head in amazement.

I asked if he’d take me to see my mother now, and off we went.

On our way to the hospital, he asked if I would come into the office to file a complaint, warning that if I would do that, there would undoubtedly be threats from Ray’s cohorts and that I had to think about it carefully.

I told him, “I absolutely will come in and file a complaint. I am tired of being afraid, and won’t let no threats stop me from doing what is right, which is getting these guys off the street and to stop them from hurting more people.”

The sheriff nodded and said, “Good girl! You are someone to be admired, I must say. But, realize that when this goes to trial, your life will be really hard, of that I have no doubt.”

“We’ll worry about that when the time comes. Right now, all I am worried about is my mother.”

Mother did recuperate, but her face would be permanently disfigured from the broken bones that couldn’t be pieced together properly, without plastic surgery, which we couldn’t afford. The state would pay for the hospital stay, but wouldn’t go so far as to pay for her to look better.

The news about the incident was published in the local paper, and then was picked up by other major news sources, about the young girl who saved her mother from death. Because of that publicity, a couple of cool things happened. One was the number of women that signed up for karate classes, helping Clay and his crew have a more successful business.

The other great thing that happened was the women who started coming forward to make complaints themselves about the beatings from Ray and his gang. They were also rounded up and jailed with their comrade. No one was left outside the bars of a jail cell to follow through with threats or to harm anyone else. Those were happy days, at least until the trial. Who knew what that would bring. We could only hope for the best.

Photo of Mother and Child in Chiapas, Mexico by J. Sharland

In the meantime, I found out the process of legally changing my name, and with my mother’s blessings, did just that.

When I was called to the stand, at the trial, to testify, and was asked my name, I stood with confidence, and loudly and clearly said, “My name is Victory.”