I will start by saying that there is not a type of people or class of people that is more likely to be abused. I believe that.
I don't live in a very good area, I live in a medium area- pretty respectable in some ways. I live on the edge of a council area (where people can't afford to fend for themselves). The borders are well defined- so well defined that there is literally a line. When I was a child, if you crossed the line into the council area, you would be held by other children and beaten (with rocks from slings- it sounds like a fairy tale, but more than once i ran for streets to reach my house to get the police to help captured friends, I know two people at about the age of thirteen (who were trained boxers) that were held over night and beaten so bad that they were in hospital for months.
As a child I ran through friendly shops to use their back doors, and sometimes had to knock on strangers doors for sanctuary. Fights often involved knives and swords (as threatening rather than active weapons- besides against vehicles- although there were a few stabbings), and on their part stolen cars too, it was only ever scary when you had to protect girls who didn't fully understand the danger- the worst thing is having girls who answer back to the enemy not appreciating that everything they say puts you in more danger as they will always beat the male). More than once I dropped my pen from revising for my GCSEs and grabbed my brothers samurai sword from his bedroom to meet a stolen car from Cai outside my house. I always was infuriated when they thought they could follow us home.
Anyway. I live near this bad area. The kids are not well looked after. They have no clothes (yes this is Wales, Britain). In the afternoon and past midnight they don't wear anything on their feet or any tops- even younger than 5 years old. They just wear their grey school trousers as that is all they have. When they go into the local shops to buy penny sweets the shop keeper sprays perfume after they leave because they smell so bad. This is a developed country.
I go to a pub often, just through this area, it maybe takes 5 mins to walk to the pub from my house through this area. When I walk back I walk through this area. This dangerous area where often little toddlers are out on their own and half naked and vulnerable late at night because their parents are too high to know the difference.
I walked home today at 11pm. As I was walking home- this path is just a 5min walk, two middle aged women saw me, and although I wasn't very drunk (it is my birthday), they stopped me and asked me if I was ok, if they wanted me to let them walk with me home so that I was safe.
I appreciated their offer, and answered correctly and appreciably, and let them know I was ok.
When I was young there was my family, and two (almost three) other families- together we formed an army as we have many boys amongst us. We faced their army who were larger. As we grew, our armies made friends (ultimately over a game of pool where the two oldest of our families played together and agreed that the war was pointless whilst the youngest got scarred), and infact I often say hi to a little boy on the way to work even now (who is clearly trying to educate himself) who I know to be one of the enemy family, although he doesn't know who I am.
Anyway. I was walking home today. I walked through the area. And I was filled with a feeling. I don't know what that was. There is nothing I can do about the stupidity of man.
So I ran. I ran for an hour. I ran to places that I didn't know and only remember from my childhood, and I kept running. I ran for a whole hour. And then I lay down and looked at the stars.
I don't know what I want to say.
I ran. I fought, that is all.