Strangers

In many forms

**This story is slightly underpar compared to the other two, but I still feel it belongs with them. Second installment, enjoy!**

In many forms
         I heard the sickening sound of a fist connecting with flesh, followed by a harsh escape of air and my steps halted; I knew instantly that it was coming from the near by alley. I had stood for many moments simply wondering what I was expected to do, watching as the other faceless people brushed past without pause while keeping their heads down; determined not to make eye contact with anyone else on this dreary night.
         I remember telling myself to follow suit and not look into the dark alleyway where the ominous sounds were coming from. But some unknown force willed me to turn my head, and my eyes widened when I saw a single teenage boy being violently beaten by three others.
         He let out another strangled cry as he received a blow between his shoulder blades, causing him to tumble to the ground face first.
         My mind raced and I frantically looked around, astounded that no one else had even taken notice of the violence in the alley. Mothers tugged their children along without even a glance towards the sound, while those very children copied their mother’s brisk pace and bowed head.
         It was the universal city belief: If you don’t see it, it doesn’t exist.
         However, I had already chosen to acknowledge this moment and now I was trapped in it; my conscience and my cowardice in a fatal battle with one another.
         It was then that the boy’s head rose from the asphalt and our gazes joined, freezing my insides with the look of pained pleading in his eyes. A foreboding wind blew past and the electrified air played with my greyed follicles, whispers on the wind telling me to help this boy. My feet remained rooted to the ground and when I did not move his eyes narrowed in cold anger, as if completely aware of the fearful thoughts running through my mind.
         He placed his hands on the pavement and attempted to push himself to his feet, the muscles in his forearms quaking beneath his flesh as he stared at me all the while. He must of known that getting up would only result in more punishment from his attackers, and yet with what seemed to be his last ounce of strength he brought his legs up under him, looking proud even when his back was hunched over in pain.
         I assumed that I once possessed the steady fortitude existing in his young eyes, and it had merely died away over the years. However when I saw his eyes shut in resolution as one of the attackers crept behind him, I realized that I was always a coward and instinctively turned away; hearing him grunt from the hit and falling to the ground coughing.
         Self-disgust washed over me as the onslaught began once again, my eyes slowly sliding shut to try to block out the mental image those sounds were creating. Forcing every humane thought out of my mind I slowly began walking away, opening my umbrella when the first drops of rain began hitting my Armani jacket.