A Night of Violence

A Night of Violence

According to my history instructor, Adolf Hitler once said that he wanted to sign up “brutal youths” to help him achieve his goals. If Hitler were still alive, he wouldn’t have any trouble recruiting the brutal youths he wanted; he co uld get them right here in the United States. I know, because I was one of them. As a teenager, I ran with a gang(帮派，团体). And it took a frightening incident for me to see how violent I had become.

The incident was planned one Thursday night when I was out with my friends, I was still going to school once in a while, but most of my friends weren’t. We spent our days on the streets, talking, showing off, sometimes shoplifting a little or shaking people down for a few dollars. My friends and I were close, maybe because life hadn’t been very good to any of us. On this night, we were drinking wine and vodka(伏特加酒) on the corner. For some reason, we all felt tense and restless. One of us came up with the idea of robbing one of the old people who lived in the

high-rise close by. We would just knock him or her over, grab the money, and party with it.

The robbery did not go as planned. After about an hour, and after more wine and vodka, we spotted an old man. He came out of the glass door of the building and started up the street. Pine Street had a lot of antique(古老的) stores as well as apartment buildings. Stuffing our bottles in our jacket pockets, we closed in behind him. Suddenly, the old man whipped out a homemade wooden club from under his jacket and began swinging. The club thudded(砰然下落) loudly against Victor’s shoulder, making him yelp(发出短而尖的叫声) with pain. When we heard that, we went crazy. We smashed our bottles over the old man’s head. Not content with that, Victor kicked him savagely, knocking him to the ground. As we ran, I kept seeing him sprawled(蔓延) on the ground, blood from our beating trickling(滴) into his eyes. Victor, the biggest of us, had said, “We want your money, old man.

Hand it over.”

Later, at home, I had a strong reaction to the incident. My head would not stop pounding(连续重击；捣碎，碾碎), and I threw up. I wasn’t afraid of getting caught; in fact, we never did get caught. I just knew I had gone over some kind of line. I didn’t know if I could step back, now that I had gone s o far. But I knew I had to. I had seen plenty of people in my neighborhood turn into the kind of people who hated their lives, people who didn’t care about anything, people who wound up penned(围以栅栏的) in jail or ruled by drugs. I didn’t want to become on e of them.

That night, I realize now, I decided not to become one of Hitler’s “brutal youths.” I’m proud of myself for that, even though life didn’t get any easier and no one came along to pin a medal on me. I just decided, quietly, to step off the path I was on.

I hope my parents and I will get along better now, too. Maybe the old man’s pain, in some terrible way, had a purpose.