Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 104239 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104239 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
“Fight!” Eli backs away, and my opponent wastes no time. He’s not particularly quick, so I easily sidestep him before throwing a jab at his kidneys. He responds by pivoting, his fist cocked, as he drives it against my ribs before the other fist connects with my jaw hard enough to make me see stars.
Fuck, the man can hit.
I fall back a few steps, fists raised, shifting my weight from one foot to the other while waiting for the right moment. He throws another punch, but I easily block it, though not so for the jab to my right eye.
I recover quickly before landing a kick against his sternum that knocks the wind out of him. He staggers back a step, and I use his reaction to my advantage, bringing my leg up and around in a roundhouse that sends his head snapping to one side before he falls to his knees.
“Come on!” I bark along with so many others who made the mistake of throwing their money away on him. He gets on his feet, his face dark red with either rage or embarrassment. Which I’m not sure, nor do I really care.
The sight of it is like a white-hot knife sliding into my gut. He thought that was embarrassing? Now I want to punish him simply for thinking he was any match for me.
I wave him forward, grinning, and his rage makes him clumsy. He charges straight for me, and I reward him with another solid kick to his right knee. Even over the sound of my pounding heart and the cheering from the crowd, there’s no muffling the popping sound his knee makes when I connect with it.
He goes down on that knee, and I do the same to the other. Rather than fall on his side helplessly, he wraps both arms around my calves and pulls me down with him. I land on my back but kick my way free before he can throw his considerable body weight on top of me. He sprawls face-first but rolls onto his back before I can take advantage.
This is almost too easy, and I hate him for it. I came here for a challenge, a way of clearing my head of everything getting in my way.
He’s not even a challenge. He’s nothing. A pothole in the road that I’ll easily overstep. The sound of the crowd is a familiar one as their cheering takes on an almost sinister note.
They’re just as thirsty for blood as I am. I jump to my feet and walk in a wide circle around my suffering opponent, the once powerful man now watching me like a hawk, looking to see what I’ll do next. I’m a lion on the prowl, a predator ready to take out its prey and enjoy an evening with a belly full of food.
He has to know the end is near, doesn’t he? I even let him try to stand while I catch my breath, and I watch in disgust as he barely makes it halfway before collapsing again. His eyes widen in evident fear as I charge toward him.
How dare he be this easy to defeat? He doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as me, much less to fight me the way he thought he could.
He shakes his head ever so slightly when I reach him, and somehow that only enrages me further, so much so that I take him by the head and press my thumbs against his eyes.
His screams ring out a moment later while he fights desperately to shove me off, landing blow after blow against my thighs, ribs, and arms.
The blows don’t phase me. Nothing seems to matter more at that moment. Something has taken hold of me, the same something that always does at this moment. I hear nothing else but his screams. I see nothing else but his agony as I dig my thumbs deep into his sockets, feeling the warmth of blood on my hands as it begins to drip down his cheeks.
Finally, both eyes give way with a satisfying, if slightly stomach-churning, squelching sound, and his screams turn to high-pitched shrieks.
“Finish him!”
“Fucking kill him!”
“Get it over with!”
Not yet. Not until I hold his bleeding head in the crook of my left arm while taking hold of his mouth with my right.
I insert my fingers, then curl them around his lower jaw. He flails blindly, still shrieking, and the sound only intensifies when I manage to tear the lower half of his jaw away from the upper half. Blood pours from his mouth, splattering on the floor, splashing against my arm and up to my elbow.
The crowd’s cheers have lessened as more and more of them react in horror. I take a long look around and find identical expressions of dismay on the faces that were, moments ago, flushed and glowing with excitement. And all the while, he screams wordlessly.