Futile Fury - Short Story
by, 11-05-2008 at 07:41 PM (1974 Views)
I loved her; I couldn’t let this other guy get in her way. So what did I do? I did what I had to do, what I would still do. These days I’m different, my temper grows shorter by the day, envy for what I do not possess. For what I do not deserve.
I leaped at him like a raging tiger, fists of fury. Within minutes his friends came to his aid. I had never been in this situation before, although I’d seen how they do it on television. I looked for a corner, somewhere I could take two or three at a time. They ran in, lashing their arms like steady whips, it hurt at first. That was until the anger became too unbearable, the emotional grasp, a hit of adrenaline throughout my body. A left hook to one guys face, down he goes, rinse and repeat, rinse and repeat. My knuckles covered in blood, the blood of people I do not know and do not wish to know. I took her and we ran; we ran from everything. My lungs near collapse, my legs like jelly, slowly ripped away by the wind… like my dignity. We stopped, I looked her in the eyes, she was crying; even when she cried her eyes still looked so thriving with love, a golden globe that I would lose myself in.
It was then, that exact point in time, I knew it would happen, I didn’t want it to happen… but it was inevitable. I fought for as long and hard as I could, I loved her. She wanted nothing to do with my pathetic excuse of a life, my drunken rants, my…. Temper.
I grabbed her by the arm. My cheek went red from a sudden slap. It was then, that exact point in time, where I shed a tear, I knew that I had to let her go. The rage was building, my heart tittering towards total decay. I still had blood on my knuckles, an innocent bystander exclaimed in concern at my rough appearance. I couldn’t stop myself… I had just lost everything I lived for, stripped of my dignity and left standing alone. I hit the man with every inch of strength I had left. It felt good, soothing… my temper became nothing more than a vivid expression of what I had lost.
Roaring in futile flames of fury, I jumped. I jumped as far and as high as I could, I hoped that I would die, that I could stop the shadow of despair over my broken heart. I loved her, I set her free, free of my temper, she did not return, and so she was never mine in the first place. I am now free of my temper, too tired to continue, I can no longer look myself in the eye. My temper has ceased to control me anymore, not from will-power, not from self determination to change, but from pure exhaustion, my body just can’t take it anymore. And so, I am a dead man walking with every reason to be infuriated over an exasperated life. I loved her. And now I have no reason to exist.
Problems cannot be solved by running; I learnt that the hard way, I was too immature to take responsibility for my actions. So here I stand, a life of violence, of passion, it has left me spent, I still have blood on my knuckles, and see no reason to change.