fascist britain

she looked great as usual. her laughter tinkled like ice in a glass as she laughed at me. as they laughed. i turned. one of them jumped upon my back.

this had been going on for months now; the name calling, the shouts across the street, the angery tears on my pillow in the darkness.

"go home paki!"
the anger welled in my stomach. i hated school. i hated these people. i hated my parents for coming to this hell-hole. and most of all, i hated her.

i grabbed him by the thoat and smacked him on the ground. weight lifting did help, i mused in the back of my mind. there was terror on his face. i saw it just before i hit him in the nose, and blood burst out like an exploding water ballon. his tears were burning his eyes. i vaugly heard the yells from the crowd, and the screams for me to stop coming from his mouth.
i only could see his mounth moving
"PAKI! PAKI GO HOME!" i felt the bruises of the thrown rocks.

i hit him agian in the eye. i never heard the scream. things began to whirl, adrenilin made time slow to what seemed like almost a halt... i could see every movement... i could see the animal lying before me. i could feel the animal in me...

my leg was mosionless in air, in what seemed like an eternaty. i forced my heel into his genitalia. his eyes opened wide; then closed.

i turned.

i felt empty.

"who wants to call me paki?" fire was in my heart, but these words were calm. i saw the shock in their eyes. i grabbed the nearest one by the coller on his black hoody.
"are you going to call me paki?"
silence...
he shook his head.
i threw him to his mates and pushed my way though the crowd.
i walked away.
i walked, dazed, thourgh the streets; no one troubled me today. i walked to the bridge at the canel; and stood on the thick 1900s rails, and looked to the dirty, swirlling, waters.