"Because I like coke" the kid whimpered, Mark threw the can at a parked car, then he turned back to the kid.
"Fight back and we'll let you go"
"What?" the kid clearly didn't have a clue as to what was going on.
"Fight back and we'll let you go" Mark repeated, a sadistic grin playing around his mouth.
"I don't want to fight" the kid stammered.
"We do" this time it was Sty who spoke, he stepped in front of Mark and stared down at the kid, Sty's 6"3 and about 200 pounds, he raised a fist and punched the kid right on the temple, the kid fell like a ton of bricks, Steve kicked him in the ribs whilst I stood over him, bent down and slapped him hard across the face.
"Fight back" I ordered, "hit me", tears and dirt mixed and drool ran from the corner of his mouth, he doubled up in pain as Mark stamped hard into his soft stomach. We dragged him into an abandoned alley and placed his face, mouth open, on the curb, we looked for witnesses.
"It's Simon's turn" Mark looked at me, it wasn't a statement, it was a command. I nodded, stood next to the kids head and brought my foot down, I felt the jarring rhythm his body made and heard the smash of teeth. We ran.
It's the rule we have you see, if they fight back, give everything they've got the w let them go free, they can't fight like a wimp, a few small punches and then expect to go free, they have to put they're life on the line to get away from a beating like the one we laid on the fat kid.
I don't know or care how the first fight started, but I loved them. The exhilaration, the excitement, knowing you could get hurt or do the hurting, once you've taken a few punches and realised you're not made of glass you live for it. The first person to not want to fight was a pacifist, so we kicked him in and used the curb, that’s the one thing I hate, the curb, especially when I have to do it, as soon as I get in the house I go in the shower to clean away the feeling of guilt.
A few days later we spotted our new target, a gangly kid walking down the same street singing the latest Westlife song to himself. Rick blocked his path.
"Sing us a song queer" he laughed. The kid stared at him but didn't offer a comeback.
"Nah mate, don't" Mark laughed, "he sounds like a bloody banshee" James laughed at the joke and squared up to the kid.
"Fight back and we'll let you go" he said, the kid just stared back at James motionless, Rick turned to face us, "do I have to kick this retard in so he'll understand?" we laughed, as Rick turned to face the skinny kid a fist smashed into his nose causing blood to spurt like a faucet. I jumped in arms flailing wildly, the kid just sidestepped me and smacked in the back of the head with a brick he'd found on the floor. I lay there in agony, I could make out the shape of Steve picking the beanpole up in a clinch and Mark running forward and punching him in and around the kidney area. They picked him and dumped him in a heap, his face on the curb, I managed to pull myself up and as Mark went to bring his size 12 down on the back of the kids head I rugby tackled him, we smashed into a wall and collapsed in a heap by the side of the road.
"What the hell was that?" Mark roared, still geared for a fight.
"He fought back so we let him go, that’s the rules" if he wanted to fight he'd get a fight. Mark ran at me, I tensed up ready to meet him but Sty got in the middle of us.
"Stop it" he shouted, Mark stared round at the little group, then at the kid who'd found his way onto his feet,
"Get outta here kid" Mark said, the kid turned and ran flipping the bird at us as he left. "I vote Simon's out of the gang", that hit me harder than the brick had
"What?" I stared round at them, my brothers, my family, "he fought back, we had to let him go"
"No" roared Mark, "we're family, and you chose him over us, I don't want you in this gang anymore"
"Fine", I turned and left, not looking back at the people I thought my closest friends.
We got a letter the next day, my brother, Luke, had been killed in action in the Iraqi war. All that week we were visited by Aunts, Uncles and Cousins, offering their condolences, it didn't mean jack to me. My closest friend, my own brother had been killed before his time and my best mates had turned on me. I felt sick. It was only six thirty but I got undressed, climbed into bed and fell asleep.
I woke up before anybody else, nine in the morning I woke up, I didn't bother with breakfast, I pulled on the same clothes from the day before and slipped out the front door. I had to get out, 3 days in a house wracked with bereavement was not where I needed to be at the moment. I wanted to go to the shop, anywhere to take my mind off things. I bought a can of coke and set off to Loch Park, I was walking through a back alley when I felt a chilling sensation on the back of my neck, I was being followed. I turned round and was face to face with Mark, his eyes were red, his pupils huge and I could smell the alcohol on his breath.
"alright mate" he spat the last word out, it wasn't a question. "fight back or we'll kill you" obviously the old manifesto had been changed. Funny really I was quite calm.
"You've heard about my brother?" I asked, my voice unusually high.
"Yeah, so? Whys that effect us? You don't mean jack to us anymore" Steve growled. James slammed into me from behind and sent me sprawling across the alley. Skin tore away from the heels of my palms as I slid to a stop. I scrambled to my feet and put my back against the nearest wall. Rick ran at me and I sidestepped him tripping him up so his face hit the wall, Mark came at me and I kicked him as hard as I could in the balls. He collapsed, clutching himself and screaming in agony. Steve rugby tackled me to the ground. I clawed at his eyes and felt something give under my fingers and he pulled back, clutching his face. I punched him in the throat a second before James came up and kicked me in the head. Blood was pouring out of my nose and ears, he stomped me a couple of times before I staggered to my feet. I ran at him catching him off guard and we fell into a crowd of dustbins that clanged noisily as the fell over, I picked up the cast iron lid of one and beat him over the head with it til he was unconscious. Mark was still whimpering, clutching hold of himself, I punted him in the ribs, he rolled over, his face on the curb, I raised my foot and as I was about to bring it down met Sty's eyes, the one friend who hadn't attacked me.
"I didn't want any of this to happen" I said, tears welling up inside me.
"I know" he said, "I'm sorry about Luke" I nodded, unable to say anything, we stared at each other for a second and then, with the sounds of police sirens ringing in my ears I turned and walked off.
