"I was 13-years-old in Brooklyn, NY. A friend and I went to the movies about once a week. Normally, we went to one of several movie theaters in his neighborhood, but there were times when the movie he wanted to see (he always picked the movie, I didn't care) wasn't playing in his neighborhood, so we would sometimes go to a theater outside his neighborhood. This particular time we had to go way out to Manhattan to see the movie, so we took a train out, saw the movie and took the train home.
Because we lived in different neighborhoods, we had to get off at different stops. He got off his stop and I had to continue to the last stop so that I could catch a connecting train to take me home.
The subway car I was sitting in was completely empty. After sitting there a while, I decided to move to another car instead of sitting there alone.
I got up and moved into the next car where there were people. I decided to move even further to another car again, but some leather-jacketed guy got in my path and told me that the other train cars were closed. I knew this guy was full of it, but I didn't want any trouble from him, so I just said 'oh' and turned around and went back into the empty car I came from and took my old seat. That guy and his friends took my response as a sign of weakness and cowardice, which it was; I was a meek little 13-year-old kid with no confidence whatsoever.
I was sitting there in my seat when a metal dart landed on the floor at my feet, followed by an angry, gruff voice yelling 'PICK IT UP!!!! PICK IT UP!!!!.' I looked over to my right and that leather-jacketed guy and his friends (around a half dozen or so) poured into the car and came straight at me.
His dart guy friend was one of the first to reach me as he ordered me to pick up the dart again. I did so and then he ordered me to hand it to him. I did. Then he proceeded to throw the dart directly into my legs over and over again. I screamed and cried. I put my hands over my legs in an effort to shield them, but then he ordered me to move my hands away or else. I did and he proceeded to throw his dart into my legs again as he stood over me.
My memory is a bit hazy as to how the rest progressed, but I do recall that after the dart throwing, they proceeded to use me as a punching bag. Fists flying into my face, chest, and stomach, not one of them at a time but several of them at the same time.
I managed to break free of these guys and made a run for the car door so that I could escape into the next car where there were people, but one of them was guarding the door. This guy was not taking part in my torture with his friends, he just stood at the door as a lookout. I could sense that this guy had some compassion for me, that he felt some sort of guilt about what was going on, which was why he wasn't taking part. But as I reached the door, he still prevented my escape. I yelled, I screamed, I cried, I begged him to let me go, but he wouldn't. He threw me back to his friends. That guy, keeping me trapped in that car with his friends that very second, was the worst feeling ever.
Somewhere along the line, I found myself on my knees on the floor of the subway car. I reached into my pocket and pulled out all the money I had on me at the time, all the money I had in the world - a single dime. I held it out to them in the palm of my hand above my head and yelled at them that was all I had, please take it and leave me alone. I felt a leather gloved hand press into my palm and take the dime, but they still weren't finished with me.
One of them got the bright idea that he wanted to see my head go crashing through one of the windows of the subway car. So they grabbed me and actually started to ram me head first into the glass of one of the windows. Fortunately, subway car windows are strong and shatterproof. I can't recall how many times they rammed my head into the glass, somewhere from a half dozen to a dozen before they gave up.
Just before we reached the last stop I was on my feet. I opened my mouth to say something and accidentally, a little spittle came flying out of my mouth and landed on the leather glove of one of my attackers which earned me a slap in the face.
Finally, we reached the last stop. The doors opened and they ran out of the car except for one guy who I assume was their leader, the same guy who at the beginning got in my path and told me the other train cars were closed. He reached into his pocket, pulled out his wallet and asked me if I needed a couple of bucks. I couldn't believe it. I didn't want anything from him. I refused his offer and he put his wallet back and walked off the train.
I went to the front car to report to the conductor that I was attacked. I banged on the door but there was no one there. I walked off the train onto the platform. I saw a couple of cops with their backs to me. They were exiting the platform by going down the stairs. I called out to them but they didn't hear me and I was too weak from the beatings to go run after them. They disappeared out of my sight. It was just as well. I never memorized my attackers faces as I tried not to make eye contact with them throughout the entire ordeal. I had forgotten what they looked like within seconds of them leaving the train so I would never be able to give an exact, positive description. And I never knew their names, nor they mine.
Defeated, I caught my connecting train, this time finding and staying in a car that was reasonably filled with normal looking people. Second I got home, I flopped into bed to go to sleep. When I woke up the next morning, my body ached all over.
I imagine my attackers, if they're still alive today, are somewhere in their 50s (at the time of their attack, they were all a few years older than me, I estimate late teens to early 20s). Some of them no doubt have families of their own today - wives, grown kids, homes, good jobs, etc.
But I'll also bet they keep it a secret from everyone in their inner circles (employers, co-workers, friends, family) about the time how they mugged and physically assaulted some young kid, a total stranger, for kicks on a subway train way back when. Their friends and families, wives and kids, probably look up to them, thinking they're the greatest, not knowing what lowlifes they really are and were.
My life at the time and the many years following were terrible and painful for many reasons. Granted they're not to blame for the entire terrible state that was and is my rotten life. To be fair, had I never encountered them, my whole life would still be terrible, but they sure did contribute to the lousy horribleness that is my life. I have never forgotten or forgiven them for the torture they inflicted on me both physically and mentally - I hope they all burn."
Source : http://www.clipd.com/stories/1737172/people-share-their-the-moment-from-their-childhood-that-scarred-them-for-life/