Night of 20th October 2009

Nana and I are walking home at night. We're close to the final stretch of the walk: before the small park and crossing the river over to the back streets that lead to our apartment. We're still on the main road, almost exactly the spot where I found a lost passport on the ground in waking life the previous day. But the main road is dark and there are no signs of traffic. The group of yobs and hoodlums are just ahead of us. They are not black, but seem to be hispanic, asian: brown-skinned, youngsters - teenagers and kids. I know they are bad, and are looking to start something. We walk past and I make sure Nana is on my right side, to be furthest from the group, who are on my left. As we pass them, they fan out from the shade of the buildings. I don't know what they did, but it is clear they started something, and it is Nana they threaten. I shepherd her on, past the danger zone; I hit one of the yobs. Somehow one of them has tried to grab at Nana - I find and strike him very violently. The yobs don't fall back, but stop pursuing us. I catch back up to Nana, and turn around to them. I want them to know that I'll attack again more than to know I'm checking if they are following or not. But this seems to provoke the group. I'm running back toward the mass of them and pick one out, I hit him, he falls and I kick him, with all my might, in his face. I'm making my way back. A small boy from their group seems incensed and runs out to me, screaming he has a gun, he seems very cocky. I think I'm scared, but I know I'm more incensed than him, and scream back that I don't give a fuck, and start to attack him too. He shoots me many times but I don't go down, or feel pain, or feel inhibited by the wounds; I know I'm bleeding but I continue the attack. I punch him very hard in the face and continue to beat him, I think I kill him. He collapses under the attack. I want to out crazy him, and show him he is weak, make him afraid of me.
We are sitting in the hospital, waiting for treatment of my wounds. I'm aware of a blood-leaking hole in my shin. My condition is critical but I don't feel weakened or in mortal danger at all. Two of the yobs appear at the hospital, sitting in the same waiting room, for treatment of the injuries I've inflicted. They start up verbal abuse again. I'm standing over the youngest one, he is very young, maybe only 7 or 8; but he lashes the most foul-mouthed insults at Nana, and I can't let him live. I smash him in the mouth, and he starts to cry quietly. Someone feels sorry for him and gives him a picture book to look at. He reads the book and suddenly I'm aware of a pure adolescence in him. I'm squatting down, looking up at him read the book with heavy tears welled in his eyes, but not running down his cheeks. I'm not empathetic or sympathetic, yet. I'm looking very hard at him, trying to judge if he is acting or not - I'm still not sure he has turned over a new leaf, but I'm prepared to believe in it.
I see the other yob, he's the one who shot me - I'm behind him as he still sits in his chair. I have to hurt him, I have to make him sorry and inferior. I strike him, or pull his head, either way his head is over the back of the chair, I am using all my force. I overpower him as roughly as I can. With his head clamped, trying to break his neck over the back of the chair, I lean in and bite his nose hard, biting out a thick curl of flesh. I wake up.