Cold Hands

Cold Hands

The crunching sounds of the boys’ noise cut through the screaming of Alexander’s mind. Then it was gone, and the roaring noise came back again. He didn’t slow; he just kept on swinging, like he had all his life. On the far edge of his consciousness he registered that his hand had just broken on the boys’ collarbone. It didn’t bother him. He just kept on swinging. The boy fell to the ground and Alexander’s hands dropped to his sides. He looked down upon the boy with cold eyes, like steel. His footsteps resounded off the concrete deck of the public pool. He circled around the pool, passed the change room covered in graffiti, walked over the scorch marks in the deck and pulled a key out from around his neck. He reached the other side of the pool and unlocked the gate. As he pulled his key free from the lock and opened the gate he paused. His gaze locked onto his own hands. Covered in blood. With sudden motion he kicked open the gate and stormed off into the shadows of the parking lot. Shoving his hands into his hoody pockets and drawing up the hood and looked angrily at his feet as he walked. It was around 11:00pm, but Alexander didn’t head home. His home wasn’t a stationary thing. The noise inside his head seemed to surround him, and violent flares of pain punctuated the fluctuations in sound. He stumbled off the sidewalk and into a dark bike trail through the woods. He gripped his heads in both hands and growled through clenched teeth, his eyes squeezed shut as he endured the horrible pain. To him it felt like a knife being driven into his eyes, tearing and ripping his head apart. Like shoving a live wire into his ear, forcing his brain to spasm wildly. Behind his eyelids colors of red and deep purple washed across his vision, his whole body tensed and his fingernails dug into his scalp. Dropping to one knee he collapsed, body wracked in spasms of pain. His stomach heaved and he emptied it onto the ground. He lay there for a few moments catching his breath and slowing his heart rate. He stood slowly and swayed slightly as for a moment the pain flared again. Aftershock. Keep on swinging. His thoughts were crisp and clear now and the noise had dulled, seemed only a bee buzzing in the back of his head now. He grimly wiped his mouth with his sleeve and kept walking. His hair was short and black, his eyes a deep brown. There were dark purple bags under his eyes and they were heavily bloodshot. He movements were precise and co-coordinated, even purposeful. He realized his fists had clenched again and quickly opened them. He stopped walking for a minute and took time to wipe clean his hands on the inside of his sweater. His hands had lost all feeling, and were ice cold, so the only indication that he was in fact doing what he meant to was his sight. Looking up at the silver moon shining bright in the sky behind gray clouds he sighed. His eyes were dull now, seeming dead in his skull. He began to lower his face back to the ground when a drop of water landed in his eye. Blinking rapidly he smiled. The drop rolled down his face like a single tear. It reached his lips and he tasted it with reverence. Laughing he raised his arms and the rain began to fall. Thick and dense it fell all around him. “Thank you.” He whispered to the night. With a smile he kept on walking. With a smile he kept on swinging.


Once again Alexander found himself at the public pool, this time with more than just a single boy to face. Five teenage boys all around the age of sixteen stood on the other side of the pool, tossing insults at him. Taking quick calculations Alexander began to back up. The other boys took this for a retreat and their taunting increased to accommodate this action. However Alexander was not running away. He was not going to back down. He once again quickly calculated his odds. “Fear only fear,” he whispered to himself. With that he leaned forward and ran full tilt towards the edge of the pool. His strides ate the ground and he soon reached the edge. Driving his knee into the air he jumped across the gap and right into two of the boys on the other side. He landed with both fists flying, no regrets, no backing up. He quickly dropped to one knee to avoid a powerful left hook. As the fist sailed past him above his head he stood again using his rising motion to give force to an upper cut directly into the other boys chest. He heard the whoosh of air as all the air was forced from the boys lungs, but he had no time to think about it. The other 4 boys had circled him now and were all grim faced. No longer surprised. One of the four grew anxious and charged straight in at Alexander. As he swung wildly Alexander calmed swayed and ducked out of the way of the punches. As soon as the boy lifted his chin Alexander’s fist connected with it. Slamming the boys mouth closed to a crack loud enough to be heard by everyone there. The vibration of the boy’s teeth knocked him out cold. Alexander still stood in the same spot, not having moved his feet at all during that bout. The other boys shifted their feet nervously and suddenly broke ranks. They ran looking over their shoulders fearing the pursuit that would not come. The first boy knocked down was getting to his feet and began running too. Alexander crouched down beside the unconscious one. Gently lifting him from the concrete he moved the boy so that he lay on the soft grass on his side. Searching his pockets he removed the thirty dollars from his wallet and left the boy to wake on his own. As he once again walked down the sidewalk he pulled out the cellphone he had taken from the boy. He thought about it for a moment and then dialed 911. “Hello, there has been a fight at the public pool. One boy is injured and may have a broken jaw. Please send help for him as soon as you can. Thank you.” Without waiting for a response Alexander hung up on the emergency operator. He threw the cell phone into the ditch and melted away into the trees, letting the darkness embrace him, just as a police cruiser with it’s lights on drove by.

Once again the rain dripped down Alexander’s face as he sat on a bench in a small park, far in the back. He kept his hood down so he could feel the rain on his face and eventually took off his sweater entirely so he could feel it run down his arms as well. The rain had become one of the only things that gave Alexander happiness and let him know he was indeed still alive. Let him know he was indeed still swinging. All those fights under broken streetlights had made this boy into something more. Not a man by any standards, it was more twisted then that. He had become everything that he hated so he could combat it. Fighting fire with fire he thought now, as he quietly reflected. The sun was rising now, and the rain still fell heavily. The new morning sunlight filtered through the great leaved deciduous trees and made all the drops of water clinging to the vulnerable blades of grass glitter. Alexander imagined that each little sparkle was the earth equivalent of a star. Now as his mood brightened by the rain he caressed the wooden bench, enjoying the rough feel on his fingertips. When he was angry he couldn’t feel very much. His brother had committed suicide when he was eleven years old right in front of him. His parents had fallen apart because of this incident and had not noticed its effects on Alexander. Post traumatic stress disorder wracked his body with pain day and night. Anger ran through his blood like oxygen, he lived and breathed it in. Anyone he ever caught making jokes at someone else’s expense was subject to this anger. He fought long and hard, never really caring about getting hurt. His battle was he own he thought, no one should have to deal with it other than him and his enemies. Lately though he had begun to realize that his greatest enemy was just himself in the end. All that blood spilled just made him angrier and all that blood spilled was spilled by his hand. Stained as they were he found them unfit to help anyone anymore. So with the rising of the sun he decided that he too would rise in light. This morning was indeed the beginning of the end for Alexander. He sat there reflecting on his decision, now made final in his mind, and was disturbed by the flashing of blue and red lights, and the call of a siren. He look over his shoulder to see a cop car parked in the parking lot of the park, the officer standing outside the car, waiting for him. Alexander took a deep breath and rose slowly. His walk over to the officer was the last time he ever spent as Alexander, for when he reached the officer he was no longer Alexander, he was Chris. His first and true name. He politely said hello and sat in the cop car, awaiting his judgment. Violence had created who he was, and violence will end it. He rode in that cop car back to the station in silence, confessed everything he had ever done. His punishment was severe, but as Alexander – no, Chris – lay on the small cot in his cell at juvi he smiled. His whole life he had been trying to do the right thing, but was going about it the wrong way. The selfish and corrupt way. Now he was finally doing something to correct that. He accepting he punishment gracefully and happily sat in his cell. Happily continued on with his life. For he knew that even though he may have failed at first, he would not become his brother, he had saved himself from that. Now the days were long and hard to get through, but he would survive. He would always keep on swinging.

-Tod A. Latta