The Final Straw – Part Two

After making my break-away from the thugs, the scenario that followed must have seemed like a ‘classic’ escape scene from a prisoner-of-war movie. You can imagine the guards and hounds frantically in hot pursuit, while the fugitive splashes his way through mud and water. That’s the best way I could describe what it felt like for me while being hunted down.

As I continued running over the marshland toward the shore, all I could taste was sea salt in my mouth coming from the water on the marshes. I managed to scramble over the sand-dunes. Only a few yards behind me I could hear my pursuers, panting and grunting like a pack of wild animals chasing their prey.  I knew that they were completely outraged by the fact that I’d managed to slip away from their grasp.

Thankfully, their drunken stumbling state was no match for my nimble young legs. Although I was not a particularly good fighter, I’d certainly learnt how to run fast from previous encounters with bullies. However I knew that these chaps wanted to inflict some serious damage to me; they weren’t your normal playground tyrants, more-like well-trained thugs. I came to the conclusion - I was actually running for my life.

Gradually, I was able to gain considerable distance away from my adversaries and realised that I had somehow managed to escape. A great sense of relief pored over me. I laid motionless in the sand dunes very close to the shore, slowly regaining my breath. I waited patiently for several minutes until my regular breathing pattern had fully returned. 

I quietly peered over the dunes. All I could see in the distance were figures hovering around the streetlights, very close to where the incident first occurred. After a few more minutes had passed, I sat watching and noticed a very small spark of light. It looked like it was coming from a cigarette lighter, a flame that then seemed to grow larger and larger. Eventually there was a huge glow and then a small explosion…………I realised that the gang had set my motorbike on fire.

To complete the story; later that evening, when the bikers had eventually left the scene, I  slowly but cautiously made my way back.  Strangely enough I was able to meet up with my mate again.  He came back on his bike to look for me. I explained to him what had taken place and he was shocked and extremely apologetic for leaving me all alone.

My friend eventually persuaded me to call the police, which I did by knocking on the door of the nearest house and using their telephone. By the time the local squad car had arrived, my bike was a smouldering wreck lying on the side of the road. It had been completely destroyed and was in a totally unrecognisable state.

Later that night after giving a brief statement to the police, I was invited to stay at my pal’s house. He only lived a few miles down the road from seaside village. The following day I was asked to visit the regional police headquarters, which I did. It was here that the senior officer in charge insisted that together we should try to bring these yobs to justice. He said, “It was an intolerable act that needed to be punished.” 

The detective constable in charge offered me ‘special police protection' in order to pursue those that had committed the crime. The only requirement, I had to agree to return to the village where the incident occurred and personally identify the perpetrators

After a lot of persuasion I finally agreed to do the task, only with the complete knowledge that I had full support from the police. We arrived back at the village at around mid-day. The accompanying officers had a good idea where the culprits might be hanging out - the local Pub. The detective who was leading the case, informed me that I should casually stroll around the garden where the gang would be most likely be drinking. My job would be to accurately identify the three offenders.

As I approached the pub, deep inside I witnessed a whole new level of anxiety. My mouth was dry and I was rigid with fear. To say that I was petrified would be an under-statement. Thankfully I had the full assistance and encouragement of very experienced officers, who supported me every step of the way through this tricky ordeal.

As I entered the garden, I instantly recognised all three men sitting drinking together. There was definitely no mistake; their huge frames and faces were firmly impressed into my mind. Luckily none of them recognised me. I somehow managed to successfully complete my mission, just by simply nodding my head toward the guilty party. After making a swift exit I let the police to do their job.

Afterwards, all three men were arrested and held in the police custody for that night and for most of the following day. In due course they were all released after confessing to the crime, which they had committed. By means of further court proceedings, all three men were eventually prosecuted for causing criminal damage. They were heftily fined, as well as paying me back the full cost of my burnt-out machine.

For many weeks afterwards the implication of this traumatic event was to have an extensive affect on me mentally. I suffered frequent attacks of anxiety and also had difficulty sleeping.  I was afraid to venture any distance from home, subsequently I spent a lot of my time just sitting in my local pub quietly drinking.

I'd reached “The Final Straw” -  I felt extremely insecure about my own level of protection and I even considered carrying a knife or some other offensive weapon to protect myself. The alternative to this was to seek out some form of martial art training - I desperately wanted to learn how to fight effectively, so I could deal with any encounter that might come my way.