⚠️ Content Warning: This story contains scenes of graphic violence and may be disturbing to some readers.
Although I could hear the rapidly approaching footsteps, I sped up, hoping to finish the last two sentences of the sci-fi chapter before whoever it was reached the porch.
Damsel In Distress
“Kenny,” the soft, yet shaky voice began, “I need your help.”
Recognizing the voice before looking up, I closed the book and sat back on my front porch. I was right. It was Amanda (names have been changed, as always), the oldest daughter of one of my mother’s close friends. I had always thought that both she and her younger sister were cute, but as a “friend of the family,” I often saw her more as a sister than anything else.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, concerned, as sunlight caught the tears welling in her eyes.
“He won’t leave me alone. He grabbed my butt and I asked him to stop. He just laughed and then started squeezing my chest.”
Curiosity hardened into rage as I asked who had touched her, my eyes snapping toward the basketball court in the corner of Callahan Park. From our diagonal view across the street, we could see just enough of the park to spot trouble when it happened.
“Who touched you?” I asked.
Her mother worked during the day, and both her younger brother and sister were too small to provide the protection she needed. Amanda was a pretty girl, but not the kind who acted like she knew it. In our neighborhood, most of the girls were slim, while she carried a little more weight — what people liked to call “thick.” She had also matured earlier than many of the kids our age, which made her a target for teasing and unwanted attention from some of the boys.
“He’s sitting in the brown car,” she answered, pointing.
“Stay here,” I ordered, setting the book down before jaywalking toward the parked Cadillac. I hadn’t meant to sound so commanding, but the protective part of me had taken over — not to impress, but to defend.
I ignored the greetings from the guys around the court and headed toward the passenger side of the car, where I finally saw him. I didn’t know him. He looked a couple of years older than me and seemed several inches taller. The driver’s seat was empty.
A Knight’s Challenge
“Excuse me,” I said, keeping my voice firm but not threatening. “My friend told me you’ve been bothering her — that you grabbed her butt.”
The look on his face when he turned told me there was no easy way to handle this. No matter how I worded it, he wasn’t going to admit outright what he’d done or apologize.
“So? What about it?” he shot back, defiant.
I swallowed, knowing she was watching and realizing I’d crossed the point of no return. I hadn’t known what would happen when I walked over there — whether I was trying to protect her or impress her — none of that mattered now. What mattered was finding the right words to de-escalate things and end this safely. She was watching. I had to deliver.
“Look man, that’s my fr-“
“What? You wanna get down?” he snapped, cutting me off.
“I didn’t say-“
Before I could finish, he shoved the door open — but not before reaching down toward the floor in front of him. When he stepped out, the game on the basketball court came to a screeching halt. Everyone fell silent as he walked toward me with a crowbar in his hand.
“Hey man… I just want you to leave her alone,” I said softly, eyes widening with fear and uncertainty. I cursed myself for being so transparent.
“YOU WANNA BOOGIE?” He shouted, louder than before.
“Yo man!” People started yelling. “That ain’t even necessary. If y’all gon’ fight, fight fair!”
Others shouted for him to leave me alone, but their words fell on deaf ears. Part of me wanted to run, but that wasn’t something I had ever done — no matter how dangerous things got. My father hadn’t raised me or my brothers that way.
Still… if ever there was an exception…
“I didn’t come here to fight you. She’s my friend — and you’re disrespecting her.”
“Fuck all that!” He sneered. “You don’t like me grabbin’ that bitch’s titties, do something about it, niggah!”
He was bigger, older, and stronger, but at this point, I was the angrier one. Anyone else would have been popped in the mouth before the letter B out of “bitch.” But the crowbar changed everything. It shifted the entire equation. In that moment, despite my rage, discretion wasn’t cowardice — it was survival.
The Cavalry Cometh
“Kenny!” I heard from across the street. I recognized the voice immediately. Juan and his younger brother Julio were leaning against their fence, motioning for me to come over.
Without saying a word, I started backing away at an angle. He stepped forward each time I moved, making it clear I wasn’t just going to walk off. I kept my eyes on him, never turning my back, sliding carefully sideways as he followed me across the street.
Not knowing what to expect, a part of me hoped they might jump in to help. It was asking a lot of anybody, but I didn’t know what else to wish for or do. He clearly wasn’t going to let this end.
When I glanced over at my childhood buddies, my eyes widened as Juan handed me a length of steel chain, about 3 feet in length. Without thinking, I grabbed it.
“Yeahhhhh,” he said eagerly, raising his hand, fingers clenching tight. “Let’s go!”
He rocked back and forth, waiting for me to make the first move as the world around me stood still.
How in the hell had I ended up in the coliseum, fighting for everyone’s entertainment? And why the hell would I accept a weapon? All I needed was the chant of a bloodthirsty crowd.
Stupidus Kennius!
Stupidus Kennius!
I thought about where I could hit him first—what strike might end the fight before it even started—but the real fear was the final outcome: pain, deep cuts, a skull fracture, losing teeth, an eye… death.
And she was watching.
Things were going badly. I wasn’t afraid of him—I was fearful of what he could do to me in this fight. It wasn’t worth it. If it were my father, he would’ve taken any opponent down, and he wouldn’t have needed a weapon to do it.
But I wasn’t my father.
And there was only one way to end this without running.
RETREAT!
“I’m sorry,” I said weakly, placing the chain back on the fence. “I don’t want to fight you.”
I could hear the brothers exhaling in disappointment.
“Thought so, punk-ass, niggah!” he laughed. “Take yo’ bitch ass across the street and go play hopscotch with that hoe! See if she’ll let you play with her big-ass titties!”
I glanced at Juan and Julio in shame. They understood why I backed down, but they hated what they were seeing. Both glared at him, clearly fighting the urge to hop the fence and beat the arrogance — and the dog shit — out of him.
Part of me wished they had, but that would’ve only made things worse.
A Knight Disgraced
Head down, my feet dragged on the concrete as I retreated to my porch. In the distance, I could hear people yelling at him, calling out how fucked up it was to put me in that situation. Everyone in the area knew me — and knew I wasn’t the type to walk away from a fight. And although they understood why I did, it would still go on the neighborhood record. A walk-off forfeit, which was worse than any loss, no matter how brutal. It didn’t have to be spoken out loud. They knew.
Amanda moved over to the porch as I sat beside her, silent and ashamed. I wanted to go inside, but that would’ve only made it worse. Not that sitting there felt any better.
“It’s okay,” she said gently. “He’s bigger than you and older. He could’ve hurt you.”
I didn’t look up — not at her, not at anything. I was just grateful no one was in the house. If my parents or siblings had seen my failure, I would’ve died. It was bad enough that Amanda had witnessed it. Deep down, I knew she understood I’d made the right choice… but that didn’t stop the sensation of cowardice from settling over me like a heavy cloak around my soul.
A Knight’s Redemption
“Maybe he’ll leave me alone from now on.”
Reality kicked in.
“No, he won’t!” I snapped, standing up. He had disrespected her, threatened me, humiliated me — and then laughed about it. He wouldn’t leave her alone, and he sure wasn’t going to let me forget it. He wasn’t from our neighborhood, but he’d definitely be back.
“Kenny, DON’T…”
Ignoring her, I walked back across the street, remembering something my cousin Gary had told me when I was young:
“Ain’t no such thing as a fair fight, so don’t look for one.”
One last thought crossed my mind.
He had touched her.
I picked up a fist-sized rock and headed for the car. He was back in his original spot, engine running now, the radio playing loud. I didn’t know who was supposed to be driving him — and I didn’t care. I didn’t even look toward the guys on the court, though I heard them stop again, some yelling, “Awwww shit!” as I approached the door.
“You know what?” I hollered, loud enough to make him turn his head.
His face erupted in blood around his right eye as I drove the rock through the open window like I was launching a shot put in the Olympics.
“OHHHHHHH!!!!” the voices around the court erupted in unison.
He dropped hard to his left side, dazed and screaming as he clutched his eye socket. Within a millisecond, his hand shot down and to the side toward the floorboard — reaching blindly for the crowbar.
“Oh HELL no!” I roared, dropping the rock as I yanked the car door open. His forward reach sent him spilling halfway through the doorway — and I slammed the door violently into his shoulder. He screamed, clutching his right shoulder with his left hand. As he doubled forward, I jerked the door back open and grabbed both straps of his tank top. It took everything I had, but his bent position worked in my favor.
He spilled out of the car, his legs still inside. I kicked him just above the right shoulder blade with my left foot. He shouted again, but I wasn’t listening or stopping. I pivoted, planted my weight on my left foot, lifted my right — and stomped down on his ear, driving his head into the dirt where grass used to be.
Not caring whether he could hear or understand, I kept stomping as I yelled at him.
“You don’t touch women! You leave her alone! You hear me, niggah? Punk-ass BITCH!!! YOU LIKE THAT? You wanna BOOGIE? I wanna boogie, MOTHERFUCKAH!!!”
I moved around to his other side and started kicking him in the chest.
“How do your titties feel? Huh? You like that?”
Straddling him, I glanced back toward the porch, where Amanda stood gripping the handrails. I couldn’t tell if she was relieved, satisfied, or terrified. I looked back down. The right side of my gladiator opponent’s face was covered in blood. I wanted more.
The emperor demanded it.
Alternating punches, I kept throttling him, shouting, “Leave us alone!” even as he pleaded for me to stop. He started sobbing, frantic and high-pitched, but I didn’t care. I kept swinging until hands grabbed at me from behind. At first, I thought it was whoever had been driving the car, but the number of hands made it clear — more than one person had decided he’d had enough.
I fought against them, punching and kicking as they dragged me back, just far enough that he was out of reach. I still managed one last kick with my white high-top Chuck Taylors, now smeared with blood and dirt.
My thoughts fired through my mind in short, rapid bursts — his filthy hands on Amanda, the looks on my friends’ faces when he humiliated me, the cold reality of what he could’ve done with that crowbar.
THE CROWBAR.
“Get off me!” I yelled, wrenching myself free and stumbling back toward the car.
When I came up with the crowbar in my hand, everything froze. People didn’t know whether to grab me, stop me, or get out of the way. That’s when I saw Amanda standing among them. Her face was blank. She wasn’t looking at me—she was looking down at him. Even in the state I was in, I had no idea what she was thinking.
She finally lifted her eyes to mine, her expression unchanged, as I walked toward her side.
A Knight’s Court
“Go back the fuck wherever it is you came from, and don’t come back to my park. And don’t you ever touch her again.”
Still gripping the crowbar, I took Amanda by the upper arm to guide her toward my house. She slipped free — not resisting, just correcting me — then took my hand instead, lacing her fingers through mine as we walked back across the street.
Neither of us said a word as we sat on my porch, staring at the park. Every so often we glanced at each other, then turned our eyes back to the basketball court.
“I should take you home,” I said quietly.
“Ok,” she answered, taking my hand again.
We walked home hand in hand, the street quiet around us, neither of us ready to break the silence.
By the time I got back, the car was gone — along with half the crowd from the coliseum. The rest were scattered in groups, no doubt replaying the whole thing. I got my confirmation when a few of them spotted me and yelled, “Kennaaaaaay!” in my direction. I raised my fist in acknowledgment as I reached the corner near them, then waited for traffic to clear before crossing.
We never saw him again.
I kept the crowbar.
Epilogue: A Champion Found
About ten years later, I ran into Amanda’s little sister, Christine — who, mind you, had definitely grown up…
…and out!
She recognized me before I recognized her — hugging me in the middle of the grocery store before introducing me to her baby. We talked for the better part of half an hour about her family, my family, and everything that had happened over the past few years. The whole time, I couldn’t get over how much she looked like Amanda. And I tried — really tried — not to think about how attractive she’d become.
Eventually, she brought up that day, and how Amanda talked about it for years. In fact, plenty of people in the neighborhood often talked about how I never played a minute of basketball that afternoon, but I definitely ran the court. According to Christine, Amanda admired me for it… and even developed feelings for me afterward.
She told me Amanda had been impressed that I had the strength to walk away — but she was even more drawn to how I handled myself when I went back and finished what he’d started with her, minus the pawing.
Amanda later referred to me as her “knight in shining armor” that day. And although she never told me how she felt about me, that feeling lasted for a long time.
Before I could ask what Amanda was up to those days, Christine shifted gears on me.
“You were my knight in shining armor before you were ever hers,” she said.
I paused, taking in the innocent-but-not-so-innocent smile. Gone were the days when things went over my head. I noticed everything now — just like I noticed, but never mentioned, that it had been Christine who came down the stairs to my basement and kissed me on the cheek while I was sleeping on my twin bed… before scampering away.
She had been just a child back then, and I never confronted her about it, nor did I tell anyone. I kept it to myself and let it die right there.
“You still are…” she added.
“Ha!” I said, dismissing it playfully. “I’d like to think my days of being a knight at King Arthur’s court are behind me.”
“You were king of the basketball court,” she shot back cleverly.
Yeah… she was definitely a child no longer.
“Come here, girl,” I said, pulling her in for a hug. “Tell your family I said hello.”
“Alright, baby,” she said, obedience softened by warmth. She released everything except my face, pulling me closer and kissing me softly on the cheek. She held there for a moment, then kissed me again — quick, firm, unmistakable. “I’ll see you around.”
I never saw her again.
Mostly because I moved to Florida.
Which was probably for the best.
I didn’t want to be her knight, especially not at that age.
Sir Lancelot, I was not.
But once upon a time, if only for a moment…
…maybe I was a knight.
And that was definitely my court.
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