#He pissed his pants in my truck when I started screaming about the value of human connection

[theglizzardwizard]

"#I once drove at 111 on a dirt road with people in my car to prove a point about how life is important" Oh okay, so you are an actual danger to the people around you. I figured.

Yeah but to be fair my brother in law sucked and deserved it. Shouldn't have threatened to kill himself when she was mad at him for cheating (again. For like the third time.) They're still together and I hate it but whatever it's for the sake of their two kids. Ugh.

[wonderwhump]

Too much blood

I wrote a little whumpy SEAL TEAM story for Febuwhump 2022 (@febuwhump ) day 1 - head wound. Hope you enjoy it!

Brock felt something impact with the back of his head. Hard. His head, and with it his whole body, flew forward and stars exploded in front of his eyes. His legs buckled and he was too dazed, or maybe just too surprised by what the hell was going on here, to put his arms in front of his body to catch his fall. Painfully he faceplanted on the sidewalk. He heard his nose crack and break, blood pouring over his face. The coppery taste of blood was in his mouth. He felt lightheaded and saw black dots around the edge of his vision. Brock blinked several times to try and get rid of the blurry vision and clear his head a little. He wasn’t entirely successful with it and had a hard time focusing, when a heavy boot kicked him in the ribs. Pain exploded in his chest and he gasped for air. Once, twice, panicking slightly. He folded up on himself, lying on his side, one arm up to protect his head, one arm around his middle, curled in fetal position.

“Grab his wallet, Joe. And his phone or whatever that dude has on him.”

Ah, so that’s what this was about. A mugging.

“Wallet ‘n’ phone are in my jeans pockets. Just take ‘em ‘n’ piss off!” Brock slurred. He looked up at them. Two, no, tree guys, twenties, white, smirking. They had a baseball bat.

“Awww, look at him, trying to be cocky. You one of those SEALs, boy? Well, you’re not so big and brave now, are you!” one of the guys sneered and kicked him in his back. The pain shot through his body like fire and Brock arched his back, panting. The guy with blond hair rummaged through Brocks pockets for any objects of value he might find.

“Only a wallet. Let’s take it and go, Tony,” he said nervously.

But apparently Tony had other plans, he didn’t just want to take Brock’s money and phone, he wanted to play with him – hurt him.

Brocks Vision started to tunnel again. But he wouldn’t go down without a fight. So, still lying on the sidewalk, he grabbed the legs of the guy closest to him - wallet-guy - and yanked. The man lost his balance and crashed down hard on his right side next to Brock.

Brock tried to scramble up, but was brought back down to the ground once more buy a kick to the stomach that made him groan.

“You wanna fight, SEAL boy?” Tony shouted and some more kicks and punches from the three muggers rained down on Brock. Head, back, leg, ribs…

His head started to feel all mushy and dull.

“Maybe I should have just stayed home tonight, instead of going out for drinks with the team,” he thought. “Drinking is bad for your health anyway.” And for a second, he found that thought so funny that he chuckled quietly.

“What’s so funny, SEAL boy? Hm?” Tony screamed at him.

Brock came up on his elbows, all dizzy, and vomited pinpoint on Tony’s boots.

Then everything went black.

-----------------

“Oh no, Brock forgot his phone here!” Trent discerned back inside the bar, where he was still sitting with Clay, Sonny and Lisa. Brock had just left, earlier than the others, to check on Cerberus at home. “He’d forget his own stupid head if it wasn’t screwed on,” Sonny joked.

“I’ll go and see if I can still catch him. Blackburn will kill him if he doesn’t show up for a possible mission briefing in time just because he’s a scatterbrain.” With that Trent jumped up from the bar stool and paced for the door of the bar. It was dark outside, but he still spotted Brocks truck a bit down to road, right away.

“Brock? Hey, brother, you forgot your phone,” he shouted while waving the phone in his hand. But Brock wasn’t sitting in his car. He also wasn’t standing beside it. Trent went around the truck towards the trunk and almost stumbled over something that way lying on the ground there.

He looked down and saw that it actually wasn’t something on the ground, but somebody. Brock. His best friend lay there in a bloody heap. Clearly unconscious.

His stomach clenched and adrenalin rushed through him when he looked over his friends crumpled form. Trent had no idea what had happened here and at the moment it was irrelevant anyway. Medic mode kicked in and he knew he had to assess and treat Brocks injuries as soon as possible. He crouched down next to his younger brother and softly spoke to him. “Hey Brock, you with me, brother?” Slightly patting his cheeks, then rubbing his sternum.” Open your eyes for me, ok?” A small, painful groan from Brock. “Hey Brock, you have to stay awake for me now!” Brock half opened his eyes. “Tr’nt…? Sick!” With a painful heave Brock retched and puked water and bile.

“Oh Jesus, Brock. What happened to you?”

Trent started checking Brocks head first, that’s where he saw the most blood. His nose was clearly broken, there was blood all over his face, the nose was swollen and the bruising under his eyes had already started to form. But that wasn’t what worried Trent. It was the pool of blood on the street under Brocks head that made his heart sink. Carefully he checked and found a big gash on the back of Brock’s head. Head wound. Concussion. That would explain the vomiting. But it also could be something worse, head trauma, fractured skull… Brock needed a hospital ASAP.

At that moment Trent saw Clay coming out of the door of the bar. When he spotted Trent crouching next to Brock’s truck he started to run towards them.

“Clay, call 911. Now! Brock is down. He’s lost a lot of blood. Head wound and possible head trauma!”

“Fuck! I’m on it!”

Trent would have liked to cradle his friends head on his lap until the ambulance was here. But he didn’t dare move him because of possible spinal injury. So, he just took his jacket off, carefully placed it under Brock’s head to hopefully stop or at least reduce the bleeding… And then sat there on the ground, next to his friend, and stroked the young man’s hair. The hair that was sticky with blood. Too much blood.

“I got you.” He repeated over and over again. “You’re going to be ok. You’re going to be ok.”

“Copy that.” Brock mumbled, hardly audible and gave a week smile before his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he passed out.

[wiggly-blue-shite]

Chapter 18 The Bell Doesn’t Dismiss You (Tedgens)

More slurs, shitty parents, and violence

~~~

He was definitely drunk. Mom was the only one there. I should call her. She probably wouldn't pick up. She's definitely pissed at me. Not that I blame her.

I should go check on her in person. Keith is probably still there. But it's my mom. I need to know she's ok.

I find myself scrounging around the kitchen for something to eat. I feel bad for just leaving like this. He's still asleep and I don't want to wake him just to say bye.

Why is this kitchen so big! I can't find shit. Where the fuck is the cereal. I could just not get breakfast.

"Good morning." Well he's not asleep.

Wow. How do he look that good after just waking up. That's some bullshit.

"Morning." I smile over at him, fully aware that I look like I was just hit by a truck. I don't want to leave without giving him a good explication, but that's a rough conversation.

"Whatcha looking for?" Henry walks closer.

"Something to eat." It's his kitchen he'd know where stuff is.

"Well what do you want to eat?"

Anything? I literally do not care, I'm just hungry.

"I guess cereal." Everyone has cereal right? That seems like a fair request.

Henry opens the drawer next to me. It is filled to the brim with cereal. What kind of Willy Wonka shit is this. Every fucking cereal known to man is in that drawer. What is this house?

"Take your pick." Henry gestures dramatically at the cereals. That adorable dramatic dork.

I guess I'll get some Frosted Flakes. That's always a safe bet. Pretty much zero nutritional value but it's food! Henry grabs a bowl and spoon, and some milk out of the fridge.

"Thank you." I pour out some cereal and eat. The familiar taste of Frosted Flakes, solidly mediocre.

"No problem." He kisses me lightly on the forehead. His lips are so soft, I nearly melt. "I'll be upstairs if you need me."

He exits the kitchen and goes back up the stairs. And I didn't say that I have to leave. Shit. I'll tell him after I finish eating I guess.

Once I finish eating though I can here the shower turn on. I should just go now. I need to check on her. I just don't want to leave Henry.

But mom. I know in my heart that she's fine, but. If anything happened. She's my mom. I need to know that she's ok.

I hear the shower turn off upstairs. I finish up the cereal and put the empty bowl in the sink. I'll just go up there and tell him that I have to leave his awesome weird house, and his warm grasp, to go check on a mother who might not love me for who I am.

She might not love me for who I am. She might not love me anymore. I can accept my father hating me, I haven't seen him and years. He might as well be dead. But Momma... Just because of something as simple as who I'm attracted to. She's my mother.

I have to leave. I'll go say bye to Henry.

I climb up the stairs and into Henry's room. He's standing in the middle of his closet. He seems deep in thought.

"Whatcha looking for?" He startled me this morning, I'm allowed to return the favor.

He starts blushing like craz- he's just wearing a robe. I just walked into his room without even like knocking and making sure THAT HE WAS DRESSED.

Henry makes some flustered sounds.

"Oh sorry I should have knocked." Ok now tell him you have to leave. It's simple. You'll see him at school later.. "So what are you going to wear?"

Nope, that's not at all what I meant to say. You

dumb bitch.

"I-I don't know" Henry stumbles on the words. I definitely should have knocked.

Wow he has a lot of clothes. How does he afford this shit. Like everything is nice.

Henry steps aside, inviting me to help him choose an outfit. I can see why he's having a hard time deciding. His closet could be it's own fucking retail store.

Some checkered jeans catch my eye. Those would look really good on him. Now what else would look good? I have no idea how to choose out of all of these shirts. He'd look good in all of them. That's a nice turtle neck though. Now shoes... ohhh combat boots.

"These pants and this shirt. Combat boots." I pull out the shirt and pants. I gestured to the boots, they're the only combat boots in there but I wanted to be really obvious.

I set the clothes down on his desk. I really hope that it'll look good in him, not that he'd own them if they didn't look good on him.

I leave the room and hop back downstairs. My car clothes aren't very nice. Not that I have really any nice clothes. I throw on the flannel and the jeans. They look the best together out of all my clothes.

What am I still doing he-

Henry runs down the stairs in the outfit I set up for him. Oh wow that turtleneck is tighter than I thought it would be.

"How do I look?" Henry does a little spin. Fuck he's adorable. How is someone that tall, not that he's that much taller than me, have such small person energy.

"You look great."

He really does.

"So do you." Henry winks and walks past me. Mother fucker knows he's adorable, and he's going to use that to kill me. I'm fine with dying like that.

He enters the kitchen. I follow in behind him. He opens a drawer and pulls out a fucking packet of pop tarts. If I had fucking known he had fucking pop tarts.

"What you have pop tarts!" I don't even care that I've already eaten. I am going to fucking inhale some god damn pop tarts. Henry giggles.

"Yup." Henry tosses me a packet of pop tarts. Man it has been so long since I've had these. And they are just as good as I remembered. "Come on we should head to school."

What school? It's like 6:30, school doesn't start till like 8.

"What it's so early." Why the fuck would anyone want to be on campus that early. And I can't go to school now. If I get to school I won't go home.

"Yeah I have a zero period. But I'm sure you could hang out." Of course he has a zero period. Henry looks real awkward. I can tell that he doesn't want me to be alone. That's nice of him, but I can take care of myself.

"No it's fine." Say the thing dumbass, "I should go check in with my mom." Mom is left alone with a definitely drunk Keith, and I'm here. I should have fucking left sooner what am I doing?

"Oh ok yeah." Henry kisses my cheek. I wish I could take him with me, but it's definitely not safe. He'd also be late to his zero period, we can't have Mr. Valedictorian be late.

"See you at school." I wrap my arms around arms waist. This feels right. I kiss him lightly. It's nice to have this little moment of peace.

"See you at school."

We head out the door. I get in my car and drive away from that awesome house and Henry. I can't think about him right now though. There's more important shit going on.

I pull up to my house. Keith's car isn't here. That's a good sign. I done actually know if Mon is home right now. I guess I'm about to find out.

I don't need to fucking knock, it's my house. I walk through the door. All the furniture is thrown about. Shit.

"Mom!" I call out into the house. I honestly don't care if Keith is still here. I want to see him try and step to me. THIS IS MY GOD DAMN HOUSE.

I hear movement from the other room. Well someone's here. That's good. Well, I hope it's good.

My mom bursts through the door of her room. Not a hair on her head is misplaced. She's fine. Oh thank god she's fine.

"I DID NOT RAISE A FAG." She's immediately yelling. "AND HOW FUCKING DARE YOU NOT COME HOME WHEN I TOLD YOU TO."

It's a miracle I didn't come home when I knew this was waiting for me.

"Mom, it was just a little-" I will keep calm. If you fight fire with fire the world would go up in smoke.

"I WILL NOT HAVE A SON WEARING MAKEUP."

"My friend just wanted to-"

"Oh yes let's talk about your friend. The one in the picture right?" She stopped talking but this sickly sweet tone is so much worse. "You were on that boys bed."

Jesus Christ. I don't even... What am I supposed to do? How the fuck can I respond?

"What does it matter?" I will never understand where they are coming from.

"WHAT DOES IT MATTER?"Back to yelling, great. "KEITH. GET OVER HERE."

Shit. He's here. But his car isn't outside. Damnit, I shouldn't have come. I should have just stayed with Henry.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Keith walks up and ignore any personal space that I could have had.

Keith doesn't scare me. He's just a bumbling drunk who spends his time here, instead of anywhere else.

"I could ask you the same question." This is my fucking house and I'm not going to let him bully me out of it.

Before I can realize what's happening, he has his fist cocked back and...

Fuck. The left side of my face sears with pain. Shit. My eye isn't opening.

"DONT EVER TALK TO ME THAT WAY." Likes he's done something to earn my respect. Like I should care about his opinion.

"Fuck you" I am not afraid of him.

A punch to the gut, and my knees give out. Jesus Christ only one punch and I'm down. Pathetic.

Keith steps away seemingly proud of himself. Fucking bastard.

"Get out of my house." Keith turns and takes a step. My house, mother fucker thinks it's his house. THAT FUCKING SON OF A BITCH.

"This is my house." My voice feels gravely. It hurts a little to talk. But I don't fucking care.

Keith turns, he looks furious. Good.

A blinding pain quickly spread throughout my body, from my stomach, where is foot makes contact. Shit. Keith kneels down.

"I will not have a fucking faggot in MY GOD DAMN HOUSE." He screams in my ear. As if I wasn't already in enough pain. He stands and leaves the room.

It's just me and mom. She's ok and that's what matters. He didn't hurt her. She's ok.

The look in her eye heart my heart. She shouldn't have to see me like this.

"Mom..." fuck. It hurts so much to speak. It feels like someone shoved sandpaper down my throat.

But everything is fine. Mom's here. She's my mom, she can't just let this happen. She can see how fuck shitty Keith is.

She doesn't come over to help me. She stands still.

"Mom..." I manage to say again, but fuck it hurts.

She follows Keith out. She leaves me here. She left me like this.

"MOM!" I can't move. I want to run after her but everything hurts. God damnit.

I can't tell if I'm crying because of her or because of my eye. But I'm just laying there crying, unable to move. I can hear Keith and Mom screaming at each other in the other room.

I can't live here anymore. I barely live here anyways. I can live in my car. I can't be here. Keith will never leave. It's not like I'm keeping anything valuable here anyways.

I can get away from this.

I'm finally able to pick myself up. I'm going to be extremely fucking late to school. My left eye is basically useless so driving is going to be interesting.

I pull into the student parking lot. 10:00 am. It should be break period right now. I missed two fucking periods. Great.

I grab a bag and grab a glimpse of my phone. Holy shit. That is a lot of notifications. Well it's nice to know they care.

I quickly forge a little doctors note. The lady in the attendance office really doesn't care. I put on some sunglasses so my eye doesn't draw to much attention. Ok. Everything's fine and this is a normal school day.

The lady in the office does not bat an eye at the forged note. She just signs me in. God bless public school.

I step out of the office and into the courtyard. I immediately spot Emma and Henry. They look worried. Really worried. I feel really bad for doing that to them.

"Hey guys." I walk up behind Henry. He spins around. The look in his eye. He almost looked like he was going to cry.

"Ted!" He hugs my tightly. Too tightly. Fuck. It's a nice sentiment but Christ it hurts.

"Hey Henry." I smile to maybe cool his nerves a little bit. I try to hug him back but I don't have the strength right now. Henry loosens his group slightly. Ok that's better.

"You look like shit." Emma back at it again with the snarky comments. You can always rely on her for those.

"Always a pleasure Perkins." Emma smiles sincerely back at me. She's a good person. I look back at Henry. He still looks terrified. "I'm ok Henry."

"No you're no-" He begins. I just went through quite a lot and I just want to have some bliss. So I cut him off by kissing him.

"I am fine." It's a blatant lie but I really hate seeing him worried.

"No you're not." Henry pulls off my sunglasses. Shit. Now the whole courtyard can see my fucked eye. "What happened?"

I should tell him. He deserves to know, he's been worrying about me. But I don't really want to tell him. It just really fucks with everything.

"I can't live with my mom anymore."

[carocat]

A quick reminder for men: Common events for you can turn into really scary situations for women in a snap. Case in point: This week I listed a clothes dryer on the Letgo app. Because it was a dryer, a neutral meeting location was impractical. I needed it taken out of my house.

To try to stay safe, I decided to only allow people to pick it up after 5 when my husband would be home. But a guy who works nights asked if he could come in the am instead; I said yes as long as you're here before husband leaves for work.

The next morning, buyer isn't here before husband leaves. I message and tell him not to come. He shows up 15 min later. In addition to being late, he has no dolly or help, despite the ad saying the dryer was in a basement & you'd have to remove yourself.

He says he will come back with help, I say after 5 would be great. He then asks if he could just see it real quick before coming back and bringing someone over, in case he doesn't want it. So, now I have a decision to make.

I quickly try to assess my likelihood of danger, as every woman has done so, so many times. It's instinct. First, what's his age? Late 60s, early 70s. He's tall but thin. Wearing a wedding ring. Hasn't smiled at me strangely or looked at me for too long. I make a judgment call.

Feeling like he's more likely to be safe than unsafe, and feeling badly about not letting him see the dryer, I invite him in. Once in the basement, he's POSITIVE he can get it out with just a LITTLE help he says, looking at me. Fuck it. I pick up a side.

Walk to the stairs is fine. We're sharing the work. With each stair, I'm feeling more and more of the weight. I'm sweating. Heaving. Pissed. Halfway up the stairs and it feels like he's doing NOTHING. And then I see it. The look on his face.

He's staring at me, hard. Right in the eyes, sly smile on his lips. My hair is matted to my forehead. I can't get a comfortable grip. I'm just about to ask him what's going on - is he even lifting? - when he starts to speak.

"Damn, girl. Look at you. Man, those thighs. Put em to work, huh? That sweat looks good on you. Workin thighs like that, I bet your husband is a happy man. C'mon, show me what you got." I was mortified. And I'm realizing I can't get out. He & a dryer I'm lifting are blocking me.

So I do what women do, lower my eyes, pretend to laugh a little, start lifting faster. The comments and staring hey worse but I try to block them out. As soon as I am free of the basement I walk straight past him to my phone, wait 5 seconds, and say, "honey, the buyer is here!"

And wanna guess what happened? He left without buying it. Was this guy going murder me? Probably not. But I'm not sure. Am I pissed I had to worry about being murdered in my own home because grandpa creeper likes sweaty women? Yeah. Fucker.

The point - other than my being pissed and wanting to tell people - is that events like this, even when we come out ok, take an emotional toll. I was scared. He left more and more of the weight on me & watched me squirm. And now I have one more "thing" that I have to worry about.

So men, if you want to be allies, then recognizing that assault is bad is just the minimum. For every sexual assault, there are thousands of events that don't lead to violence but which scare the shit out of us, especially after our "assessment" turns out to have been wrong.

And obviously, if you ever are in a woman's home alone, whether during a service call or an online sale like this, accept if she's home alone, she's likely done the assessment. Respect her space, don't do gross shit. The basics. Please.

UPDATE: This man just showed up at my house. It's 10pm. Husband answered doorbell, drunk guy mumbles "wrong house" & goes back to his truck. I looked out the window and saw it was him. Tomorrow I'll be here alone with my 4yo while my husband is at work. Terrified in my own house.

UPDATE 2: called the police, they were VERY helpful & said I'm in a great spot for rotating cars to sit outside as much as they can tomorrow. Going to see about taking my little one & spending the day at a friend's house tomorrow just in case. Thank you to everyone for support.

A final comment about this: when I was stuck on the steps with that dryer & he was saying that disgusting shit, I just wanted to escape. I was scared but was calculating how to get out of the situation. Later, as I typed up this story, my fear had given way to rage & disgust.

And then tonight, when he came back, any fantasies I may have harbored earlier while I was typing this story about telling him to fuck off, leave me alone, etc - ALL of those disappeared immediately. I saw him and felt nothing but terror. This wasn't a man who'd physically hurt

me. He didn't rape me. Never even touched n me, in fact. He just said gross shit as I struggled with a heavy appliance. Not that it was nothing, but in the grand scheme of things, my experience was nothing compared to the evil shit people do to each other every day. And yet what

I felt when I saw him tonight was nothing short of terror. I will never, ever, be one of those movie heroines who seeks revenge and stands up for herself to teach the bad guy a lesson. I'm the girl who starts crying & shaking so badly she can't say the words "that's him" clearly

And if I'm being honest, I'm ashamed of that. For all my marching and fist-waving and dreams about screaming at bastards like Kavenaugh in some restaurant one day, the truth is that in the moment, I crumbled. I cried when I typed this update & when I called the police.

The rage that I felt earlier when I told this story hay not have been productive, but it felt good. I enjoyed thinking that this rage would protect & strengthen me if this ever happened again. But then when he showed up, that rage turned to mist. Nothing had changed in me. There

was no newfound bravery or empowerment, no matter how much I wanted it to be so. And that's ok. I know it is ok to be scared. But I could've lived without having my fantasy disproven so quickly. It was warm & made me feel good about myself, and I'll miss it. So, attention you

asshole from letgo. It wasn't enough that you said those things & trapped me in my house & scared me & that my back is killing me now from holding that thing & moving it so fast. It wasn't enough that I'd never felt scared on my house before you showed up here tonight. On top of

all of that, you also took from me any hope that I would be one of those women who could turn fear to strength. I'm not one. But I would've liked to believe I was, & you took that from me, too. And damn it, fuck you for that, whoever you are. Just please, please don't come back.

NEXT DAY UPDATE: To all of the men on here pointing out what I did wrong to bring this on myself, please know I am taking articulate notes with your suggestions and cannot wait to follow your instructions and enjoy my new life of extreme safety

Also, lots more was said/done during the event that was utterly disgusting that I didn't discuss in detail here in order to avoid triggering others. Because that is yet another thing that women do instinctively to protect themselves and one another.

To the men who have reached out and told me they're listening to their wives & believing that this happens to them EVERY DAY - your stories warm my heart. And to the male allies on here standing up to other men while also seeking to improve yourselves - I fucking see and love you

----

I felt your fear. I feel your fear. Just read this to my husband and got to the point where you (I) feel ashamed of not actually being a badass before I started crying.

----

Thank you. It really did hurt to have to admit that to myself. Because when we combine that with the way that our fears impact our relationship dynamics (how many comments on here are about women waiting to do things until their husbands are around, as if we're

helpless children?) you're left with such weighty feelings of weakness and worthlessness. Am I really so unable to stand up for myself? Am I really someone who cries even when speaking to police/public? And I found that I had minimized some of those feelings after he left by

telling myself "never again. Next time I will be prepared, I'll defend myself, I will tell him he is a monster, etc." Except my lie was gone so quickly - that man stripped me of that already-small snippet of pride just by ringing my doorbell. How many other accomplishments will

I now need to achieve in my life to make up for this horrible feeling? Like I am unable to do anything without a trusty man around? That I am like some skittering kitten running from everything in sight, instead of a complex person with many facets to my personality, one of which

is the ability to take pride in and value myself? Because I tell you what, my friend, that was gone the second I realized that I almost peed my pants just from seeing his face. And my husband knew it and now so does everyone here. I don't like feeling this way.

Because I can tell myself all I want that I am Sara, Notre Dame graduate, attorney, published author, except when it counted I turned into Sara, the crying woman who peed down her own leg & who can't stand today because she hurt her back holding a dryer above herself for too long

And when it comes time for the NEXT guy who is looking for an easy mark, when he looks at me, which Sara will he see? And assuming it is the latter, am I actually INCREASING the chances of this happening to me again? And these thoughts will rob me of sleep for the near future.