I should have screamed but instead I froze momentarily in total disbelief of what was occurring not knowing what to do. The fight or flight response is real when faced with danger because in that moment my mind perpended with running for protection, but my heart cemented me in place reminding me that Azmir was here and I should stay with him. Protect him. Adrenaline coursed through my body and I experienced intermittent periods of hot and cold flashes as my heart pulse drummed in my ears.
Unlike me, Azmir was calm. He immediately went into fight mode and punched with measured forces, rarely did he miss a punch as tried to gain distance to have a vantage point. He kept his chin down and his eyes were dark and predatory. He scared even me. When one of his punches dazed the taller of two assailants Azmir began jabbing him with lightning speed. He was tagging them with thunder. The shorter guy kept giving him body shots in the right shoulder to try to prevent him from being able to use it because he saw Azmir was lighting up his struggling partner with harsh jabs.
After I came down from my shock and disbelief, I pulled out my knife and pepper spray. I had to think quickly; they were not taking Azmir down. I couldn’t sit back and watch it happen; it just couldn’t go down like that.
I drew the pocketknife and started slashing the big guy in the back with rapid speed. He yelped with pain as he turned around to attack, spewing vulgarities in his native tongue. That’s when I maced the hell out of him and quickly kicked him in the balls as hard as my bare feet in my flip-flops would allow me. I could’ve kneed him but I didn’t want to get too close for him to grab me. As I watched him fall to his knees, I saw him cup his jewels with one hand and his face with the other and saw that it worked. When I looked about to see Azmir, he had the bulky guy on the ground beating him to a bloody pulp.
I shrieked, “Azmir!”
It tore my heart out to see him incensed with rage. I needed to let him know we had to go in case more came. He jumped up to leave but not before using those same angry eyes to access me. That’s when I realized I’d had blood on my hands and clothes.
“Where are you hurt?” he barked with flared nostrils.
“I’m not. This isn’t my blood.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes! Azmir, let’s go before more come!”
Azmir went over to the guy that I maced and stomped him in the head before kicking him in the nuts. I winced as the man shrieked in pain. Azmir then grabbed my hand and we ran to the nearby store. As we approached the building, Azmir yelled, “Where the fuck is Papeto? WHERE’S PAPETO!” so loud it frightened even me and apparently the young olive boy in front of the store. The little guy jumped off the stool and ran to open the door for us after calling for someone.
In the store, what appeared to be the owner, tried to talk to Azmir through the kid who translated. I could tell they knew each other, which meant we were safe. From what I was able to make out the older gentlemen kept apologizing and verbalizing his disbelief and regrets. For the next half hour all I could ask myself is why did I go away with this man? This was definitely not a vacation, it was more like an action packed video game.