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I thought to myself that he looked like an improper fraction, and under different circumstances, I'd have burst out laughing. But this circumstance was nothing to laugh about, at least not for me, anyway.
I felt a sudden dryness in my throat, and I swallowed hard as he roared, marching toward me.
He would have to be sick in the head if he was truly going to hurt me, a little boy, defenseless with no combat training except for the few moves Slim Tee had been showing me.
The crowd was even sicker for cheering him on. This was inhumane; all those people must have had screws loose in their heads.
Fear overwhelmed me, especially as I watched him crack his neck and knuckles. The man was really serious.
“Are you really going to fight a child?” I whimpered, hoping to speak to his conscience, but he clearly didn't have one.
“There are no kids in the ring, boy. If Slim Tee put you in here, it means you're a fighter,” he replied with a raucous voice.
“But…but I'm not a fighter.” I cringed as he advanced. I felt my back hit the bars of the cage.
“There's nowhere else to run, kid,” he said. He swung a punch at me and I hit the ground faster than I could blink.
His voice and those of the crowd suddenly became indistinct as the blow almost deafened me. There was a loud ringing in my ears that affected my ability to hear.
“Get up! Get up, kid!” he barked, violently straining his muscles. “Are you a pussy or a fighter?” He paced around me. “Don't you have something worth fighting for? Don't you have something that annoys you?”
I frowned as I recalled all of the bad things that had happened to me. I frowned as I remembered my mother and what she did to me.
“Focus on that rage, kid. Release the demon in you. Don't fight it.”
For some reason, his words were gradually charging me up. I wasn't sure whether or not this was another training session, because why else would he be telling me how to defend myself? Maybe there was no honor in killing a defenseless child, so he was trying to arm me with a mental weapon.
I struggled for a while until I was back on my feet again. Doing as he said, I was fuming, seething seriously as I focused myattention on the negativities in my life. I glared at him with eyes full of hate and rage.
“There he is,” he smirked. “There's the killer.”
He roared and charged at me, throwing punches, all of which I weaved and dodged around with a rapid blur of movement.
I struck him as hard as I could, but my fists weren't strong enough to inflict any pain. They just bounced off his thick flesh. One swing of his hand, and the back of it knocked me away.
I flew across the cage and crashed dangerously, bleeding from my nose. Groaning, I got back to my feet and spat out blood.
My opponent beat me until my face was swollen and my knees were quaking. My whole body was aching, my nose and lips were bleeding, and my flesh was covered in bruises, wounds, and blisters, but I just wouldn't give up.
He clearly underestimated my ability to take a beating.
“You got heart, kid. I'll give you that.” He stared at me. “But it's time you stayed down!” He rushed at me, and a second later his fist connected with my jawbone.
I felt as light as a feather, the world around me was swirling, and the cheering of the crowd was slowly becoming distant. I felt the impact of the hard ground as I fell down weightlessly.
Every muscle, every bone in my body was weary and aching. My eyes were shutting and I could barely see through the swollen flesh hindering my vision. I was too weak to get up, I just couldn't take it anymore, but I wasn't going to give up.
My opponent turned his back on me with his hands raised in the air as he enjoyed the praise of the crowd.
Against my quaking knees and cracking bones, I pushed myself to get back up. I could hear the amazement in the gasps of the crowd as I grunted and finally stood on my shaky feet, taking a boxing stance.
He observed the murmurs of astonishment and slowly turned back around. His shoulders dropped.
“You just don't know when to give up, do you?”
I could hear the exhaustion in his voice.
“No,” I replied, balling my fists in readiness. “No, I don't.” My voice was shaking and my breath was hard to catch. “I can do this all day.”
