It was always so beautiful when it first snowed here. Though most of my peers would say this place looked somewhat eery with the many sleeping cottonwood trees and the complete silence during the winter. But I always found it eerily beautiful, with only the sound of my thoughts and the crunching of snow underfoot.
Well, I did until I heard the ever recognizable sound of someone, that someone sounding very child-like, crying for help. Without really thinking, I turned towards the source of the heart wrenching sound and picked up the pace.
As I walked, the sounds grew more and more desperate, and soon other sounds were heard.
The sound of men laughing and throwing insults.
I started jogging.
The sound of grunts and fists connecting with flesh.
I started running.
The sound of something breaking.
I was sprinting.
The responding wail.
I grabbed a thick branch along the way.
When I arrived at the scene, mama bear mode was in full swing. I didn't even think before I charged the offending men and swung.
The branch connected with a balding man's skull with a sickening crunch. I kicked another man with a crooked nose in the groin before I whipped the stick at the final aggressor. This man with an ugly burn scar covering half his face grabbed the branch before it made contact. He ripped the branch out of my hands, scratching them up something fierce, and tossed it behind him. He couldn't do much more before I tackled him and place him in a choke hold. The scarred man passed out as soon as I was ripped away by the crooked nose man.
He held my arms down. "What the hell do you think your doing?!" he said this with the slightest of british accents.
I swung my head back, connecting with his nose and breaking it more. I could him yelp, but his hold did not loosen.
"Would you stop that?!"
I slammed the heel of my heavy snow boots into his much lighter high tops. He let go of me that time with a pained cry.
I ran straight for the quivering child and picked them up. They couldn't be more than six years old. I saw red, desiring nothing more than to dish the justice so desperately needed, but I shook this off. I can worry about that after I've taken the child to a safer place and looked over.
As I ran back to my neighborhood, I placed him in my coat to keep him as warm as possible. It was then I could feel a warm and sticky substance through their clothes. I knew that they were hurt, possibly with a broken limb, cracked ribs and a multitude of bruises, but now I knew they were losing that precious life fluid and they losing it fast.
High on adrenaline, I pushed myself even further. In moments, I saw my house with my dad just arriving back home for lunch. When he saw me running, he stepped out of the red pick up to ask me what was wrong.
"Don't ask questions!" I yelled to him before he could say anything, "We need to get to the hospital."
I was close enough by that time for him to see the clearly injured child cradled in my arms and dove back into the car.
I hopped into the passenger seat and yelled, "Hit it!" before we tore through the neighborhood to get to the hospital.
I rocked the child, who was still wailing, and softly murmured reasurances to him. Yes, I did take another look at the child when I hopped into the car to ensure what gender he was.
By the time we reached the hospital, the child was still crying, but much more softly now. Dad dropped me off at the front gate and I rushed inside.
"Help! I have a severely injured child here." I called out into the lobby.
Almost immediately, doctors and nurses rushed to me, took one look at the child, and immediately tried to take the boy away from me.
Me, still being in full mama bear mode, refused to let them have him. And the boy, for his part, had a death grip on my shirt. The doctors recognised this fairly soon and resorted to leading me to the emergency room. They had me set the child one the berth (still holding him) and soothed him when they placed the needle into his arm to administer the aesthetics. I held him until he fell asleep and, reluctantly, let go of him. I was escorted back to the lobby, where my dad was waiting for me. He had a change of clothes and mom's coat for me to borrow on him.
I took the offered clothes and went to the bathroom to change.
It was when I was changing, that I finally noticed something odd about the blood on my clothes. The blood on my clothes was not red, it was violet.