Exterior Versus Interior

 

The neighborhood street was empty of all vehicle activity except for a little girl who walked alone on her way to school. She cradled her arm and whimpered softly, deeply concerned that her arm was broken after receiving a terrible kick from her father that morning. Two blocks south of her apartment building was a garage for motorcycle repair in which sat over twenty large, tattooed leather clad gang members, who upon seeing the little girl began to grumble among themselves about the girl’s sorry condition.

“Man, there is something seriously wrong with that little girl and whatever family life she is forced to endure,” one of them said. “We need to watch which building she lives in and intervene to protect her. If I can get my hands on the coward that would injure a little girl, that interaction will not be a pleasant experience.”

“I completely agree,” said another. “What kind of monster would hurt a child and somehow justify it to himself? I see that little girl every day as she walks to school, I assume. If I remember correctly, she will walk past here again around three o’clock on her way home. We can watch where she goes then.”

Four of the gang members stood from their seats, walked to the edge of the sidewalk and watched the little girl continue her walk to school. “If the little girl is being abused, we can only assume that her mother is suffering the same kind of trauma as well. Everyone pay attention to the clock so we don’t miss seeing her when she returns. This is very important; no child should have to suffer abuse from the one who is supposed to be protecting her.”

The lunch hour crept upon them faster than any of them realized, when one of the men offered to ride to the local taco truck and pick up lunch for everyone. The men sat together in the sunshine, enjoying their tacos and Modelos. “Oh, hey, we still need to fix Larry’s carburetor. Let’s finish lunch and hopefully we can have that taken care before the little girl returns,” Alexander said.

Lunch was finished, the Modelos were drained, allowing Larry to gather the garbage, making room for his motorcycle to be brought into the open space. One of the other men immediately dove into the work of removing the carburetor, to then bring it to the work bench to be dissembled, cleaned, and repaired.

“Oh, hey, look,” Alexander said, “there’s the little girl, we need to see which building so goes into and then we can make a plan to deal with the piece of human trash that is making her so miserable.”

Twelve of then men stepped to the sidewalk and watched the little girl ascend the steps into an apartment building, pausing before she walked through the door. “Oh, man, that poor kid,” one of them said, “no child should dread going home. We need to set up a surveillance plan to see which apartment is hers, and who comes and goes into it. I cannot wait to get my hands on whoever it is that his making her so miserable.”

Four men set themselves up to watch the front door of the building and four other men moved into the alley to watch the rear entrance. “You know, this is going to be difficult to determine who is part of her household. We need to have someone in the building to figure out which apartment she is in and we can then act on her behalf.”

“I’ll go inside,” Alexander said. “There are a lot of people that live in that building, so blending in should be easy enough to do. I’ll get over there tomorrow morning before she leaves for school. That’ll tell us which apartment is hers and a bunch of us can pay that monster a visit to inform him that we know what is going on and that his life will become very painful and unpleasant if something doesn’t change.”

 The sunshine on the next morning greeted the bikers as they arrived at the garage. “I need to get into that apartment building,” Alexander said. “Hopefully, I’m not too late to see her come out of her apartment. Once I figure it out, I’ll be back with an apartment number and we can deal with this guy and persuade him to change his behavior.”

Alexander hurried into the alley, slipped in the rear entrance to make a quick walk around the first floor and then the second floor and then the third floor. Breathing a sigh of relief, he watched the little girl emerge from the door on the far end of the hallway on the third floor. He smiled at her when she walked past, to then hurry to her doorway and memorize the number. He sat on the top step of the stair with a clear view of her door to watch a small, greasy, angry little man leave the apartment. He memorized the man’s appearance and slowly followed him down the stairs.

He watched the man leave by the rear door, walk through the alley and approach the bus stop to wait for his ride. “Okay then, now we know,” he said to himself. “This will be an easy fix. Back to the garage to put together a plan to protect that little girl.” He hurried down the alley and slipped inside to share what he had learned in the last few minutes.

“I know which apartment she lives in and I’ve identified the guy that lives there with her,” he told them. “He leaves just minutes after the little girl, going to work I assume. We need to plan on how to communicate our concerns to him and force him to stop what he is doing. He’s little, greasy and clearly arrogant, so threats of violence will be enough to make him change his ways.”

Six of the bikers stood in the alley near the rear entrance of the apartment building to watch the greasy, little man begin ascending the stairs to go inside. “Alright, let’s stop him before he goes inside,” Alexander said. “Hey, you, stop right there,” he shouted as all six of them hurried up the steps and dragged the pathetic little man into the alley.

“We’ve been watching the little girl walk to school every day,” one of them said. “We couldn’t help but notice that she is always injured in some way. This will be the only warning you receive from us. If you don’t stop abusing her, we will inflict serious trauma upon you. What kind of man justifies to himself that abusing a small child is acceptable?”

A volley of punches and kicks followed Alexander’s words of warning, leaving the man in a bloody heap at the bottom of the stairs. “You should be protecting her, you piece of trash,” one of them said. “Change whatever it is that you are doing. This beating will be the first of many if you don’t change how you treat her.”

The six bikers walked away from the crumpled and suffering little man to return to their garage. The next morning the garage full of bikers watched the little girl once again walk past their shop, holding her hand over her eye, which they could easily see was blackened.

“Okay guys, looks like we need to make another visit to her father,” Alexander said. “We can catch him as he is leaving the alley for work. Some people clearly are not very intelligent, so let’s teach him another lesson.” The six men hid in the shadows and seized the greasy, little man as he reached the bottom of the stairs. Another beating, this one more vicious than the last immediately followed.

The dozen other men in the garage watched as the girl’s father staggered from the alley to the bus stop, holding his ribs with what was clearly a broken hand. The bus disappeared into the distance.

“I don’t know about anyone else, but I think when he comes back from work today, we need to stop him from going into the apartment building,” one of them said. The day nearly came to an end and the garage full of bikers watched the sore and somewhat broken man emerge from the bus and stagger toward the alley. “Quick, we need to meet him in the alley before he gets the idea of going back inside,” one of them said.

Six men hurried into the alley, and Alexander picked up a brick from the ground to then launch it toward the man’s head. “Hey, you ignorant piece of trash, don’t even think about going inside. You need to find somewhere else to live. If we see you around here again, you’ll get another beating worse than the one you received this morning. Get lost.”

They watched the man slink away in the opposite direction of their garage. “I would hope that he is smart enough to never come back,” Alexander said, “and now we have the responsibility of providing for his wife and daughter. I’m sure we all have enough money to keep the two of them from getting evicted and going hungry. Let’s go pay them a visit and explain what has happened.”

Alexander and another of the bikers slipped into the apartment building, knocked on the girl’s door to be greeted by a young woman who also carried many wounds and bruises. “Hello ma’am,” Alexander said. “Me and my friends work in the motorcycle shop just a few doors down and we’ve been watching your daughter walk to school every morning with signs of abuse. So, we intervened in her and your best interest.”

“Hello,” the woman said. “My name is Maggie and this is my daughter Angela, can you tell me what you did?”

“Yes, of course,” Alexander answered. “Me and four of our friends poured out two beatings on the man that has been abusing you and her. We convinced him to never return and at the same time, we have decided that we will pay for your rent and buy groceries so you are comfortable and safe.”

“Oh, my goodness, thank you so much,” she said.

“Of course,” Alexander answered. “Children and women should not have to live in such horrible conditions. It is our belief that we need to intervene and help whenever we can. We’ll stop by once a week to pay your rent and buy whatever groceries you need. My name is Alexander and this is Tommy. We’ll make sure that this horrible person never returns to this apartment.”

“Thank you so much,” she said.

“We’ll be back in a week,” Alexander said. “Put together a list of groceries that you need and how much cash you need to pay your rent, your electricity, and your water bill. We are more than happy to help. Have a good day, Maggie.”

As promised, within a week, Alexander, Tommy and another biker stood at Maggie and Angela’s door to deliver the promised financial support and to receive a list of grocery needs. An hour later they returned with everything on the list and several other items they believed would be appreciated.

Two days later as all the bikers sat in their garage, they watched as Angela approached through the front entrance carrying a container of cookies. “Hello, Alexander,” she said. “Mommy and I baked these for you and your friends. Thank you for all you have done for us. We cannot thank you enough.”

“Hello, Angela,” Alexander answered. “It is so nice to see you. Thank you and your mommy for the cookies. I know everyone here will really enjoy them.” He received the container of cookies with a smile, handed them to Tommy and took Angela by the hand.

“Come along, my dear,” he said. “I’ll walk you back to your apartment.”