attacker- by Sally Bui

Dear diary,

I've never been so scared. What if I was caught by the police? What if David was dead? What if I was put into jail? Who would take care of my old mother and little brother? How I wish I could turn back time to redress all of this mess and be more forgiving towards him! God, please be on my side and bless me through this chaos...
----
Today, I finally found the fat boy, after two months of searching in futility. The one that had bullied my poor brother two months ago, just to steal the little money that he had. The one that had injured my poor brother so severely that he had to be sent to the hospital for a month. The one that, nevertheless, escaped and never got punished. Until today.

It all happened this morning. After eating breakfast, I pranced my way to school. Suddenly, I saw the boy. Obnoxious with a sinister grin on his face, he trod heavily along the street. A plethora of vindictive thoughts flowed through my mind, leaving me undetermined of what to do. A swift moment after, he was gone. Irritated at myself, I came around asking people about the boy, and eventually found out that he was David. Yes, I thought to myself, so I know who you are now, be prepared to pay for the pain that you caused my brother two months ago.

During break time, I put an anonymous letter in David’s locker which told him to meet at the park nearby. It was the exact same spot where my brother had been beaten and brutally contused. Then, I waited with impatience for school to finish in order to seek revenge for my brother.

Lunch time came. Two more lessons. 1 hour. 10 minutes. 1."RING!!!", there rang the last bell of the day. I packed away my stuff and started sprinting to the park. He wasn’t there yet. I panted and gasped for air. My shirt was permeated with sweat. My heart was pounding fast. Abruptly, I looked up, and saw his corpulent body approaching. He was holding the letter and looked around, bewildered and perplexed, in search for me – the person who sent it. Then, he noticed me, and asked if I was the sender of the letter. I didn’t reply. My head was heating up with agitation and animosity. My body was shaking, not with fear, but with wrath and indignation. Without saying a word, I stormed towards him with a strike of abhorrence straight on his abdomen. He let out a shriek of pain, and fell down onto the ground. The odious arrogance on his face disappeared, and was replaced by an expression of excruciating distress. Utterly enraged, I grabbed him on his collar and threw him onto the ground where he writhed in agony and began to assault him.

The dissonance of agonising squeals and resentful shouts had attracted many people to the tumult. Yet, no one intervened. They knew him too well. Yes, they knew he deserved the punishment. Actually, there was no way to stop me now. I was too drunk and intoxicated with grim and hatred. The monster in my body was raging, thirsting for revenge. I kept kicking, hitting, buffeting frantically, and the bully – who now looked like a pathetic piece of cloth – was crying for help and mercy. Yet, no one intervened. They knew him too well. They knew he deserved the punishment.

Suddenly, David let out a shrill shriek and stopped struggling or screaming. His eyes were closed. I panicked. Was he dead? My body trembled with fear. What if he was? The previously silent crowd began clamouring and evacuating the place, leaving me behind, frightened and worried. I panted heavily and tried to calm myself. Then, slowly, I bent over him to feel his breath. All of the sudden, his eyes were opened wide and that obnoxious grin plastered on his face. He sprang up, trying to hit my head with his fist. I was struck aghast for a sleet moment, but I dodged that strike just in time. Provoked by his despicable ruse, I gave him one last strike on the head and...

..."crack". Blood was spurting out everywhere. He blacked out. This time for sure.

For the second time, I panicked, my hands trembling in hysteria. This was not part of my plan.

Lying in front of me now was not a ferocious bully who had injured my brother but a vulnerable being, defenseless and barely conscious. My fury had vanished. Instead, conscience and regret overwhelmed me. I had no more fervour to avenge my brother, but became appalled and disgusted at myself. It started to rain. I looked down at my hands.

Blood. Salty and red. Something was dropping spasmodically on the ground. Was it the rain or the filthy blood on my hands? My vision was too blurred to see clearly which it was. My head was spinning frenetically. Was this what I really wanted? Was this what he really deserved?

Feeling nauseated, I sprinted home as fast as I could. The rain was getting heavier, heavier, heavier. All of a sudden, the siren from a police car howled from behind.

As I was running, tears began to roll down from my eyes. I had never been so scared.