Attack

His jaw was swollen. A thick red bruise quickly began forming, tracing the outline of an unfamiliar fist and uninvited rings. His tooth had bitten a hole into the side of his cheek after his head had made contact with the cement a rough pair of hands pushed him toward. He’d opened his eyes, now blurred with disorientation, to see the sole of worn leather from an old pair of Chucks as they crept there way and compacted his face. Dirt crystals embedded themselves into the side of his temple and remained as unwelcome souvenirs in his hair. The cut above his eyebrow was bleeding profusely drawing a crimson line down his face until reaching the collar of his sweat soaked shirt that now clung to his throat and he gasped. The air was forced out his lungs as a new pair of fresh minted Jordan’s fragmented a rib and continued in their attempt to crumble every inch of flesh, they were waiting until he was malleable enough to ball into one of their fists. They wanted him to become crushable as each swing rushed blood to his injuries and pain raced to his head. He muffled a whimper and exhaled only an immeasurable sigh as headlights pierced his vision and he could no longer make sight of any shoes or any fists or any faces. He heard the resonating ringing in his ears as his head lolled to the side, unable to support the weight of attempting to look straight ahead into the sky. He remembered the haze of clouds did not lessen enough to show any stars from above, even as he closed his eyes they would not find him, they would not extend their cold distant glow upon his injuries. The stars had no time for those frozen by headlights, motionless after attackers left. They were telling him they had no time for victims.