I was a god. I had power that no one could take away from me. I taught my students the best ways to handle harmful or toxic situations. Until, I wasn’t.

2 years go

I was fighting someone in self-defense. I was being punched in the jaw continuously, and I couldn’t fight back. I was a warrior. I was supposed to win, fight to win. I grabbed a brick and hit his foot, he fell on his back and I instantly ran. He grabbed my foot, and dragged me across the concrete. I kicked him, he kicked back. Eventually, my back was covered in blood due to raw scratches against the pavement.

I was groaning and aching in pain, hollering now. I couldn’t move. I was in pain. I was never in pain. Why was this happening? I shut my eyes and my head was being hit in the concrete, and eventually, I was weak.

I woke up from a coma where I had a major concussion and a horrible headache. On my body, I had lots of bruises and cuts, stitches all over me.

Present

But that was then. I was still weak. But that didn’t mean I didn’t have a heart. I still taught my kids, just from a distance. “Sir, it seems I have got into a bad fight. I need help, but I know you are physically weak.” I took the child’s hand, exhausted, but not gone yet. “Don’t worry, child. We’ll still stick together, no matter what.” “You are a god, you have power. You may not have it physically, but you have it mentally. I love you son,”

The god eventually died, due to physical pain and suffering, but he was never forgotten by his children.