"What comes out of a person is what defiles him. For from within, out of the heart of man, come evil thoughts, sexual immorality, theft, murder, adultery, coveting, wickedness, deceit, sensuality, envy, slander, pride, foolishness. All these evil things come from within, and they defile a person.” - Jesus Christ, Mark 7:20-23
The destruction of my Dad's letter, and my immediate feeling of guilt because of it marked a turning point in my relationship with Anger. He was no longer my friend; everyday, I trusted him less and less. The trouble was I was already in too deep- he had too powerful a grip on the controls of my life for me to simply cast him away overnight. It was so hard to resist him. We had been together for so long- he was the dominating force of my character, and I struggled to think of what life would be like without him. Also, it was impossible to escape him. He was in my blood, in my bones. However, I was about to declare all-out war on Anger, and it would be as result of his over-eagerness to try and destroy me.
My first full-time job after leaving school was selling shoes for a small company. Again, it was just a means to an end- this time, I was saving up for a 3 month trip I was going to take to China in July 2007. I found a martial arts academy in Yantai, in north-eastern China, where I could study Baji-fist style Kung Fu, and live in the academy. I figured if I worked hard for 9 months, I would have more than enough money to pay for the education/food/plane package. My goal was set- my objective clear.
The job was pretty easy- I had to look after the stock room, keep my shoe display tidy, try and sell as many shoes as I could. That's all you need to know about the job. As you know, this testimony is about bigger things.
The shop was run (but not owned) by three women- Lucy, who was my direct superior, Sarah, who was directly above Lucy, and her sister running things at the "top", Mary. However, while I did have to answer to Mary about general logistics within the store, essentially I worked for another woman, Karen, who I really only ever met over the phone on weekly conferences, or when she popped into the shop on a bi-monthly basis. Basically, as expected, no matter which way you look at it, I was right at the bottom of the ladder, but I didn't mind it. I knew I wasn't staying for that long, and I had no ambitions to make it my full-time career. I just needed the money. Under these circumstances, you would have thought that my feelings towards this job would be similar to those described in the previous chapter- namely, uninterested. But it was different this time. Now, I NEEDED the job in order to achieve my goal. This made all the difference- it made me determined to do better, to work harder, to get along with my new co-workers better. I had already learned, I guess, from the mistakes of my previous job. Unfortunately, though, Anger wasn't ready to move on...
The first time he erupted was about 2 weeks in. I was standing on the shop floor on a quiet weekday morning, waiting for customers to come in. On the floor as usual was Lucy and with her were two college students who were doing a week's internship- seeing what it was like to work in the retail industry. It was very quiet, and I was still a bit shy of Lucy, mainly because she hadn't really reached out to me since I'd arrived. That was about to change.
As it was their first day as interns, Lucy was showing them the ropes. She'd explained the till, the shop layout, the refund policy. "And then there's our shoe manager!", I heard her say, loudly in order to get my attention. "He's in charge of our men's shoe department". I turned to the three of them, smiling. It was her way of formally welcoming me into the community of the shop- she'd accepted me! For a few seconds, I was so happy to have been included, talked about by someone I barely knew in a way which clearly demonstrated a development in our relationship. This gave me the confidence to walk over to the desk, where the three of them were stood, and introduce myself to the interns who were standing either side of Lucy. Lucy, however, just stared at me.
To this day, I'm still not entirely sure what happened in that 5-10 second gap. Lucy had clearly made a sign to call me over, to make myself known to the interns, and I had expected for us to chat and get to know each other better from that moment on. But that didn't happen. I had been relying on Lucy to be the person that I and the two interns had in common. Yet once I had introduced myself, she went dead silent, and the silence between the four of us went unbroken. Suddenly, I felt like I was intruding. "Did I misread the situation?", I thought...
A couple of awkward seconds passed, where nobody said anything. I looked over my shoulder towards the entrance, willing for someone to come in and pull me away from this awful moment where I was too afraid to speak, and where the other three refused to. I could feel Lucy's eyes burning into the back of my head. "It was a trap", I thought, "A way to lure you in. She got you to come over here, made you look like a mug by basically blanking you, and now you're stuck". I still wouldn't look at them.
"So, what do I do now?", I asked.
"Follow my lead...", said Anger.
"NO!", I stopped Anger dead in his tracks.
After several seconds of awkward pausing, in which it became obvious that Lucy was done with her "olive branch introduction", I decided to make the first move to work my way out of this awkward silence with some dignity intact. I pushed my way past Anger...
"By the way, Lucy", I started, "Do you happen to know my targets for this week?". It was a stupid question- she wasn't even in my department. But I was so desperate for something to say, so determined to replace my normal angry reaction with something, ANYTHING, that that's what came out.
She looked at me as if I'd told her I'd leaked her private emails to the papers. "No" she said bluntly. "Why would I know that? That's your department". One of the interns sniggered. I flushed red.
"Tag me in...", said Anger. "She's owning you here... Who is she to call you over here, just to embarrass you?!?!"
"No- I've got this...", I responded to Anger.
I cleared my throat, and continued to Lucy; "I thought you... might have known... might have heard something..."... I stammered. It was painful.
"That's YOUR responsibility, mate. It's your department- you need to keep track of the numbers... I don't have anything to do with your work...". The atmosphere was so tense by now that the interns had stopped sniggering, and were frozen silent. Even though I had my eyes fixed on Lucy, I could see them scared still either side of her. "Why don't you go and find out for yourself?", she continued frankly. "Don't ask ME!".
I could feel Anger's rationale, his words and outrage filling my brain and my ears. It was overwhelming, the amount of times in a few seconds I heard the words, from deep inside me; "She did this on purpose!", "She's trying to humiliate you!", "She's laughing at you! THEY'RE laughing at you!", "She's part of this world that's out to attack you! I WILL HAVE REVENGE!!!"
And that was it. With that, Anger pretty much barged his way in, and in an instant I was in way too deep.
"OH, **** OFF, LUCY! I'M SICK OF YOUR ****!", I shouted at the top of my voice at her. I can't even recall her facial reaction, as I immediately stormed back across the store floor and back to my stock room. I was still swearing to myself when I heard her shout "NO SWEARING ON THE SHOP FLOOR!" at my back. I knew there would be repercussions.
"Thanks a lot!" I said angrily and sarcastically to Anger as I entered the dimly-lit stockroom. I was still shaking from rage, but he had long-since departed, and I was left feeling ashamed.
There were repercussions. I was immediately called into Mary's office.
"I've asked Mandy to be here as a witness to this conversation...". Mandy was another superior to another branch of the shop, connected to ours. Although she wasn't as physically attractive as Sammy at my previous job, she shared a similar temperament and sympathy towards me, which made me always feel like I had a secret friend in her. Mary didn't shout, but again I felt like I'd hurt her, and that was worse. She talked about proper conduct, about how more was expected from me, and about how workplace disputes must never even come close to being seen by customers. "I'll have to tell Karen about this..." she declared. My shame was about to be revealed to yet another person that I didn't want to let down. When I was dismissed, I went and hid for a bit in my stockroom.
I remember thinking to myself as I stood amongst the shelves full of shoe boxes:
"A line has been crossed. This anger thing is getting too real- it's affecting my job! What IS this rage inside of me? Why am I'm so powerless to resist it bursting out...?"
I was still contemplating the person I had become, and my prospects for the future if I continued to let Anger boil up from inside of me and overflow, when Mandy came in.
"Are you OK?" was the first thing she asked as the door closed behind her. Although I wasn't crying, she could see that I was shaken and remorseful in my eyes.
"Yeah..."... I said, and then confessed, looking straight into her eyes, "I think I've got some anger issues. And I've got to sort them out". This was the first time that I admitted it out loud, but it would not be the last.
---
For weeks after that first torture session, I was left badly beaten, dazed and constantly afraid. The physical pain was one thing. My face was bruised, and ached whenever I moved a muscle in it. My bottom gum was sore from the mouth-shot, and one of my bottom middle teeth had fallen out. It had started off loose after the attack, and with the constant fidgeting with it that I had done with my tongue, it had finally given way around 24 hours later. It now lay somewhere on the floor, in the darkness, I assume surrounded by little splashes of my blood.
The biggest torture, though, was my unceasing paranoia. Before, I had thought my captor had boundaries- a line he wouldn't cross. Now that that fantasy had been dispelled, my mind worked constantly, imagining what sort of torment I was in for the next time he lost his temper. My paranoia kept me awake and alert. Before, I had craved sleep. Now, I feared it, in case he snuk in without me noticing, and attacked me before I'd even woken up...
But staying awake constantly requires an extreme amount of effort. I would stand for hours, days, just letting my mind wander, seeing where it would go. My imagination had been stinted by my constant exposure to darkness. I couldn't clearly remember the faces of my friends, the street where I lived... even what I looked like, it had been so long since I'd seen a mirror. After repeated attempts over several days of trying to conjure these things back into my mind, and only achieving half results or misshapen blurs, I gave up trying.
A week or so passed, and I heard nothing from my captor. I didn't shout or scream. Of course I didn't- I didn't want to risk incurring another beating. I stayed quiet, tried not to make a sound... and whenever tiredness came over me, I willed sleep on, pushing past the fear that I would be attacked in my slumber...
The closest thing I came to a "dream" at that time, was actually more of a memory, remembered in my dazed state between consciousness and sleep. It was a memory that I had from just before my kidnapping and incarceration. Unlike the other things I tried to recall, this memory was clearer, easier to play back, more detailed in its content. As I stood there, my left eye bulging and black, leaning forwards, allowing the chains to take the slack, I remembered the incident clearly...
I could see myself a few months previously, shortly before my capture. I was clearly younger then; my face fresh and still too young for serious acne. My body shape was slight and athletic, and I bounced along at every step I took. I was young, energetic and excited, ambitious about all that lay ahead of me. I portrayed confidence, even though I so rarely felt it. I would smile on occasion, but in an attempt to be taken seriously, a stern look of warning was my favourite expression. I told myself that I needed nobody's help, or guidance, or assistance, without even really believing it myself. I was still pleasant to be around then, if not a little shy. I liked angry music; it said the things that I wanted to, but wasn't brave enough to. I worshipped strong, confident characters; they dealt with life in a way that appeared attractive to my young mind...
In my cold cell, I shifted and winced uncomfortable at the sight of that man who had set to take on the world so unprotected...
I was just about to turn the corner of a street, in the centre of the town where I lived. It was mid-afternoon, and I was heading to meet Tom and Precious. Actually, I remembered I was a little late. I took my phone out of my jeans pocket, and checked the time. I was uncharacteristically late, and certainly in no need to search for distractions. The sky was starting to cloud over, and the blue patches were becoming gradually obscured by blackened-grey, heavy looking clouds. Far away, behind my shoulder, distant thunder rolled. Keeping my phone in my hand, I quickened my pace...
As I turned the corner, a man was sitting against the brick wall of a pub. Right in the centre, exactly half way between the streets running in front and behind of the pub. His legs were tucked into a red sleeping bag, and his knees were hunched up to his chest.
In the darkness of my cell, remembering these events months afterwards, I forced my eyes closed further, in order to get the mental image from that vivid yet fading memory clearer...
As I approached him, with slight caution and wariness coming over me, the details of this figure who was almost blocking my path became clear to me. He had a scraggly, untamed beard, "dusty brown" in colour, and slight curls in overgrown hair. His eyes were brown, and his skin both tanned and dirty. He wore a pea-green long-sleeved t-shirt with soup stains down the front, and a Parker jacket -new- which I assumed some kind stranger had given to him. I had slowed my walking speed down a little, as a precaution, and in slight fear of this homeless man. I guess my fear of him originated from my lack of understanding of him and his situation. Why was he here? What had happened to him to bring him to such a desperate situation as this? Was he desperately poor enough to resort to violence in order to rob me? My experience at the time dictated that I always expected the worst, and so I remained both suspicious and cautious. As I was forced closer, I could see that his head was leaned back against the brick wall behind him, and he had the hint of a smile on his face. His eyes were closed, serenely. I remember hoping that he was asleep, so I could slip by, unnoticed.
I sighed deeply in my cell, as I tried to recall exactly what happened next... Sleep was clearly nowhere close, and my boredom was driving me insane... For lack of anything else to do, I tried to see how many more details I could remember...
As I approached even closer, hoping to get past him without having to force a comment, or worse a conversation, I could see his eyes open at hearing the proximity of my footsteps. Slowly, he turned his head towards me. His face was calm, and for some reason he looked pleased to see me, as if he had been expecting to see me, and I'd finally arrived. I was having the complete opposite reaction- I wanted to get past him, have him out of my vision as soon as I could. I surged forwards.
As I approached, trying not to look him directly in the face, I could see his mouth full of off-white and slightly crooked teeth break out into a smile at me.
"Got any spare change, mate...?"
I avoided his eye contact by pretending to look at my phone. I kept walking.
"Nah, sorry mate...", I lied, without looking up. He didn't respond as I walked briskly past him, and I could see from my peripheral vision that he had lowered his hands at my answer...
A few seconds later, I got to the corner of the pub, where it met the next street lying horizontally in front of me. I didn't cross it, though. I paused on that corner, and pretended to look at my phone. I felt guilty, and while I was flicking through the contacts of my phone aimlessly, trying to make it look like I was looking to make a phone call, I subtly turned round to look back at the homeless man...
In the silence of my cell, I had plenty of opportunities to ask myself what would have happened if I hadn't turned round and looked at him. If I'd have just waited there on the corner, or if I'd gone elsewhere. I couldn't help but feel like I was in part guilty for what was about to happen next, and in that ice-cold, quiet cell, there were no other voices to drown out my conscience...
I remembered that when I turned around to look at him, he was looking straight forwards. His legs were crossed, and his hands were cupped in them.
It wasn't easy or quick for me to firmly decide to go back and dump some spare change in his hands. In fact, it was most out of character for me. I had to force myself to start, but once I'd started walking, it was much easier to continue than I'd imagined, and as I walked back towards him, I felt a mild rush of adrenaline at doing something new...
As I walked, I swapped my phone into my left hand, and felt in my jeans pocket for some change I knew I had there. Bringing out about three large coins, I was glad to see that he turned towards me when I was only about 3 feet away. As he looked up at me, I noticed he smiled his toothy grin again, and I felt compelled to say something...
"Here you are, man...", I said as I leaned down and dropped the three coins into his cupped hands. I made sure they landed safely, and when I took a second to look at his face, I saw that he was looking at the donation I'd made into his hands. Just as I was standing back up straight, he looked at me...
"Hey!"... I heard a voice behind my shoulder, and spun round without even acknowledging the homeless man's response... if there was one at all...
Tom and Precious were both crossing the road behind me. With the echo of my own words fading in my head at the appearance of my friends, I turned to face them, smiling. I turned my back completely and in an instant, on the homeless man, and perhaps subconsciously I was trying to block Tom and Precious' view of him...
Tom was a couple of paces ahead of Precious- him being more confident about crossing the road in his slightly cocky strut, which saw his shoulders move further than they needed to up and down, and her taking precautions, delicate, distinctly feminine steps in her high heels, stopping frequently to make sure she wouldn't be hit by cars- and he reached me first, bear-hugging me as soon as he was on the pavement.
"How are you, man?" asked Tom as we separated, and as Precious joined us on the pavement. I remember wincing at the power of his Tom's double-arm grip, which I get the feeling now was seen by him as another demonstration of his power. Tom's chestnut brown hair alone, perfectly combed into a slight quiff, made him look like he belonged on a Hollywood red carpet, not in a backwards town like this. His chiseled jaw gave his smile a hugely masculine quality, and his bulging chest muscles were clearly visibly under his muscle-fit navy-blue t-shirt. He wore mirrored aviator sunglasses, and always made a show of taking them off.
...In my cell that night, amongst the squeaking rats and shivering in the freezing air, I remembered how like him I wanted to be back then....
Precious was beautiful. Flawlessly glamorous, she seemed to set trends rather than simply follow them. ...
"I'm good, man...", I said to Tom once he'd released me, and was standing domineering over me. Still a little dazed at the strength of the hug Tom had given me, I kissed Precious on both cheeks in greeting. Quickly, I added, "Ready to go?"...
But Tom, always looking for a chance to make Precious laugh, wasn't persuaded by my haste. Holding onto my shoulder as I started to move away, and removing his sunglasses with his other hand, he sneered past my shoulder. Then, motioning with his eyes, he asked me, his lips in a snide curl of delight at what he'd just discovered:
"Who's THAT you were talking to?"
Instantly, I knew he was referring to the beggar, but still, I asked:
"Who?"
Without waiting for a response, I looked round all the same, to make it look like my interaction with him had been so meaningless that I had completely forgotten about his presence, sat against that brick wall. I could feel the rain drops becoming heavier as I turned my head to glimpse back...
The beggar was looking at me, a peaceful calm on his face. He didn't blink, and I could see his chest rising and falling below his t-shirt. His breathing was slowly rhythmic, and each raindrop that fell onto his shirt made an impactful dot, which slowly faded, leaving nothing but a slight darkening of the material. The raindrops continued on all four of us, warning us of the downpour to come...
I stood firm. I looked back at Tom, who was still ready to jeer at the slightest excuse...
"Nobody", I said. "Just some guy".
I was about to replay Tom's response in my head, to remember exactly how he'd reacted to that... but I was interrupted and shocked back into my cell by the sudden jangling of keys in the door...
