When they came towards us, violent and ready to punch us, I thought, "No, they've mixed us up with someone they've got a feud with." But soon enough, they shouted out words like "batty man" and "faggot." And I realised it was because we were gay. Eight teenagers, four of them girls, chanting lyrics that went, "I go and shoot queers with a weapon..."
You will do anything to save your life if you think you're going to be killed. When they were kicking my boyfriend, a strapping guy, down to the floor and then in the head, I thought, "That's it- we're going to die." I invented a fictional sister and kept repeating, "My little sister's at home, we really need to get home - just let us go."
At some point my boyfriend's rib broke. He shouted out, "You've broken a bone," They thought they'd cracked his skull and ran off, in terror and on a high at what they thought they'd done. A few more kicks and they would have - cracked his skull, that is. He'd have died and I'd have been without my partner of many years - not because of a car accident, or because he smoked too much - but because a few fifteen year old boys and girls thought it was important to kick a gay man to death.
[...]
Complete article at Huffington Post : http://huff.to/nSAmWS
