Two of them. Or that was what my brain informed me. Two men, beating two cowering women. A dull slap as fist hit forearm, a mallet to a steak.

Sobbing.

The smell of last nights left overs from the two neighbouring leases, Stuckeys bar and Thai Now, assault my nose; A sour combination of aging seafood and stale beer. The latter causing my stomach to flip, a sobering reminder of my earlier consumptions.

Unfortunately not sobering enough.

My brain screamed leave. Walk away. Don’t get involved. But my legs did not get the memo as I lurched into the alley.

“Stop,” I said through combersome lips as I span in place. I swallowed, trying my hardest to keep the rising bile down; a mix of disgust and vodka.

Her beating stopped as I swayed.

“Got ya self a ‘ero slut,” he spat at the woman as she flinched. Bruises marring the majority of her arms. She quivered against the brickwork, unable to get any further away, as much as her body tried.

Hero. My internal self scoffed.

A fist met with my face. Sharp stings on my cheek taking the pain away for a while, much more effective than the alcohol. For a brief moment my brain forgot. My wife was forgotten.

My nose exploded accompanied with a loud crack. Blood now mingling with the bile.

I took it. Better me.

I don’t know how I still stood upright. It was my gut next. My face offered little consolation for the scum now my cartledge was broken I suppose. But this was his downfall. My abs tensed as a blunt force collided with my stomach.

What little hold I had on keeping my sorrow down dissipated. 8 beers and 6 vodka shots seered up through my esophagus and painted the man before me. Sickening splatter’s and gutteral wretches reverberating off the ally walls.

I couldn’t breath as my body spasmed. As my stomach emptied, blood still trickled down the back of my throat.

I deserved it all.

I could not tell you how long it was before my concious took in the cold rough concrete on my cheek. Everything hurt. My stomach roiled again with protestation at my puddle of a mattress. Blood, semi-digested beer, chicken wings and a side of fries cushioned my front, soaking through my jacket.

I felt cold tentative fingers touch my neck, my artery, followed by a stifling sigh. It was trembling. A primal groan escaped me as I placed my hands in my puddle and tried to push myself up.

“S-s-sit s-s-still,” came a girls voice, “h-h-helps coming” she stuttered.

“Help”, I mumbled, “not for me” I slur. My mind drifted into the aether.