I didn’t even know the man who did this to me.
It was a warm evening in May 2016 and I was on my way home.
I decided to pop into the Cyns Tavern in Little Hulton to see my friend Jayne.
I don’t drink, but I just wanted a quick catch-up.
But when I got to the pub, there was a man standing in the door.
I knew his name, as he was a regular – Dale Powell.
We’d never spoken to each other, though.
‘Excuse me,’ I said politely. Instead of moving out of my way, he stayed put and glared at me.
Weird...
Then, before I had the chance to utter another word, the man’s fist was being launched at my face.
I staggered backwards as his knuckles collided with my cheek.
As I reeled in pain, another sickening punch landed on my face.
He struck me five times before I hit the floor.
Crumpled in a heap, I faded in and out of consciousness as voices circled around me.
‘Look what you’ve done!’someone shouted.
When I finally came to, a stranger was standing over me.
Blurry-eyed and confused, I noticed he was wearing a bright red shirt.
Then I realised the man’s shirt was red because it was drenched in my blood.
Diese Geschichte stammt aus der January 12 2017-Ausgabe von Chat.
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Diese Geschichte stammt aus der January 12 2017-Ausgabe von Chat.
Starten Sie Ihre 7-tägige kostenlose Testversion von Magzter GOLD, um auf Tausende kuratierte Premium-Storys sowie über 8.000 Zeitschriften und Zeitungen zuzugreifen.
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