Love at Blind Sight (Ep. 3)

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There are times at night when I just take a leisurely stroll around the school environment. I do it just to clear my head and just be alone; away from the noise and the bustle that is my neighbourhood.

On this particular night, I went to the tennis bleachers just adjacent of the Arts Faculty. It’s very quiet there at night with the exception of the annoying whine of mosquitoes and the occasional couple(s) fulfilling their God-ordained right to be fruitful and multiply.

I’d been there for about an hour and a half when I decided to head back to the BQs. Less than three minutes out at a leisure pace, I heard the one set of sounds I hate the most in life: a hard, harsh slap followed by a female’s scream. I took off in a dead run. I mentioned that I’m blind right? Well, not entirely. I am visually impaired but that does not mean I am without a sense of direction.

The thing is that, a few months after the incident that left me without my sight, I found out, quite painfully, that my other senses were, for lack of a better word, improving. Basically, they were covering for my loss of sight. Now, don’t get me wrong. I didn’t become Daredevil and begin to moonlight as a masked vigilante. Heaven forbid. My mother would have killed my ass not that I had the required skillset.

My other senses were, in fact, not even close to being as awesome as his were but I could find my way around just fine or cross the road without a vehicle knocking me down or, God forbid, a plane crashing down on me. Long story made short, they were compensating for my lack of sight.

As soon as I got within close proximity of whatever the hell was going on, I stopped to listen. As I suspected, it was a guy and a girl (lady? I’m not sure which. I get confused with the titles every time.) and of course the girl was the one on the receiving end of said slaps. I did say I hate it when a female is facing physical assault from a male, right? Well, that’s a story for another day. Although, long story short, my disgust for such an act stemmed from the days when my father used to assault Mama mia.

There was another slap again and I swore in my mind (son of a castrated donkey!) I decided to step in before things got even messier. Just before I could, I was hit with two distinct scents. One was a mixture of alcohol, a dash of vomit, a smidge of stale sweat along with a pinch (which was more than a few handfuls) of really strong and most definitely expensive cologne. All that together made for one heck of a terrible gaseous pollutant. The second scent was oddly familiar and soft. I guessed that had to be the female. There was a slight coppery scent (definitely blood) mixed with it which spelt a possible injury.

This was indeed getting messier than I could stand. Besides, I hate guys who decide to hit a female. A normal person in my condition would actually hightail it out of there but it’s been proven: I ain’t normal.

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