I can’t get up. I can’t get up. I then noticed something. My nose opened, leading a heap of air through my lungs. I felt energized, extremely energized. I wanted to get up and run. It was like my arms and legs were charged with energy I’ve never felt before. It felt like lightning had charged my entire body. I got up. Bruce wondered how I got up, but he tried to attack my face, on the nose. My head just slightly moved. I thought it was a twitch, so I prepared my body for a hit. But then Bruce’s hit only managed to slice air. I looked at my opening. He had his right hand across from me, his stomach exposed and clear. I used barrage, because a single punch wouldn’t be enough at the angle I was at. The first one hit. The second one hit too. And the third. But the fourth seemed off. I took a glance around me, taking in detail of everything. It seemed that everything was in slow motion. It was like time itself just stopped at a snap of two fingers. Popcorn from a viewer fell so slow that it seemed to be almost floating. I took a glance at Bruce. Exact same position, and he hadn’t moved an inch. My fourth punch was guided by something. It moved fast and sneakily, and Bruce hadn’t even taken a glance at it. Everything was so slow. Then, boom! My fist struck Bruce and his stomach caved in, bouncing around like jelly. You could hear the impact from outside the arena. He fell down, catching himself with his hands and knees. I then kicked him so hard in the face that blood dripped from his nose. His face came back, and I kicked his jaw over and over again.

I used my fist as a guard and I kicked his face, because I knew he could counter me at any moment. I repeatedly struck and his face flew back many times in each direction. I looked around again. Sweat dripped down from my face like a small stream of only a couple drops of water. I focused. Everything was slow, again. Then I lost my focus, and everything went normal again. Bruce flung back and almost immediately slammed onto the ground. By how much blood he was losing on his jaw and caved in I knew I had obliterated his jaw to pieces. I could see fractured parts of his jaw stuck in different places, sticking out. I looked around. Regular speed. I looked at my fist. It didn’t move as I held it still, and my legs seemed normal. My energy steeply dropped and I almost lost consciousness for a second. I, however, managed to keep my ground. I looked into the small crowd. Everyone there seemed to cheer for Bruce, because they frowned and looked down as I looked at them. Some booed and even flipped me off, but I didn’t care. The triumph felt so refreshing, and I was very excited to tell my parents about my win. My legs and arms felt like jelly, and I just wanted to collapse and fall asleep. Roughly halfway home I got into my thoughts again. That was a pretty good match. I wonder if Bruce i- I looked around. I swear I saw a glimpse of a pair of eyes. Like everybody, my mind does kind of tip me off. Like faces through windows, or eyes in small holes. I knew they weren’t there, though. I opened the blinds that block my window at night. Nothing but a mosquito desperately seeking to get inside, probably because it was extremely windy and cold that night. I hit the window to try to get it off, and it flew away. The second time I opened up our old cabinet, it was where my parents stored vintage or new items that are usually valuable to us as a family, sometimes just valuable money-wise. Nothing but the shine on a yellow glass cup that my grandmother used, and my great grandmother, and so on and so forth.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Once I got home, I told my parents I had won. They thought it was complete bullcrap and were about ready to ground me for a month. I told them to check the boxing status on their phones. They still weren’t proud. “You have got to go for more! You have absolutely no use in this household. You are just a burden!” “I’ll tell you all about being a burden, idiot! Every single day I come up here, and guess what? ‘When are you going to win? When will you actually fight and be like your grandpa’ Every single damn day!” I stormed off to my room, filled with rage and anger indescribable. After years of losing, I finally had a triumph and they just still think I'm just someone useless. This sucks! This sucks! I hate this! I kept thinking that as I ran up the stairs. My dad threw his arm up as if saying, “Welp, there we go! Thanks a lot!” I jumped in my bed, eyes full of tears. I wanted to just hit something, break something, but I knew that was wrong. I wanted to cry, but I wiped my face with a handkerchief and stopped. I looked at a picture of my grandfather. His level was just so impossible to reach.

About an hour later is when I decided to go down. I didn’t want to take a glance at them, and just walked to the living room. I put a pillow at the end of the couch and laid down. I thought about what I was going to do about this. I couldn’t run away, nor hide. I just have to deal with this. Roughly half an hour later is when I started to fall asleep.