SomeoneSpecial1
New member
- Jul 16, 2009
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Please be kind and considerate -- I'm very self-conscious when it comes to my writing, so please take that into consideration before saying something too harsh. Thanks.
----
I had forgotten how I'd gotten to this point. I knew I hadn't initiated confrontation, but I couldn't seem to remember what had. My thoughts bled together and my head spun as a result of the alcohol I had throughout the night. The unforgettable sensation of a fist connecting with the side of my jaw only further fogged my memory and comprehension.
I was partially aware of the group of people surrounding us, watching the altercation with curious eyes, their words instigating what I was trying so hard to prevent. I stepped backwards, trying to get away from my attacker but failing miserably as he directed another blow to the opposite side of my jaw. For some reason, even after two hits, I still refused to initiate any form of retaliation.
I clenched my eyes shut against the sting my jaw, feeling my balance wavering as his fist came into contact with my jaw for a third time. My knees buckled as I fell to the ground, pain shooting from every molecule in my body as he impaled his foot into my side. I recoiled from the infliction, before I forced myself to stand and face my assailant.
I opened my eyes and clenched my fist, raising it for the first time and lunging forward with determination. Despite my initial hesitation, I reacted to every blow he delivered. His green eyes, that had previously burned with conviction, were now darkening as his resolved crumbled.
I lost track of time and I could feel my sensibility slipping from my grasps. My side was aching with a sharp pain and I could feel blood running down the side of my face, mixing with sweat and mud and staining my clothing. I swallowed hard, a metallic twinge lingering on my tongue as an involuntary whimper escaped me.
I was sore – injured from the first three punches that I had failed to respond to. I needed this to end; I needed to find shelter and assess the damage. I figured if I could deliver a hard enough punch to his jaw, I could escape. I clenched my eyes shut and balled my fist, pulling back and swinging forward with every ounce of strength I still possessed. My fist connected with his cheekbone and I lifted my gaze for a small moment to meet my opponent's... Only, when our eyes connected, it wasn't the deep green that I'd seen multiple times throughout the fight – it was gray.
My brows pulled together in consideration – fear and anxiety consuming me as I witnessed the large bruise forming on the right side of his face. His gaze was heated and intense, darkening with anger. The entire surroundings quieted and everything seemed to move in slow motion. The people surrounding us slowly backed away from the scene, as though they knew the extent of what just happened. Even my attacker stood there, his expression shrouded with shock and confusion.
Riley. I had just punched Riley. And suddenly, the words from a month ago flitted into my mind: “One more fight, Sam... And I'm done.”
Any remaining alcohol in my system cleared away and I sobered up immediately. I felt sick to my stomach, and it wasn't the result of the alcohol; no, I knew what I had just done and it was enough to cause liquid panic to run through my veins. My sore muscles shook as a million shudders ran throughout my body. I felt paralyzed – my mind shutting down from the inexplicable fear. Time slowed as I watched Riley step closer, pull his fist back and punch me directly in my face, his eyes burning with a vexation so powerful, it intensified the blow somehow.
I stumbled backwards, my legs giving out from beneath me causing me to collapse, once again. I stared up at him like a deer in headlights. “Riley... I'm, oh God, I'm so sorry... I didn't... I didn't mean to, it was an accident.”
He kneeled down in front of me, his gaze filled with an emotion so strong, it could only be classifies as hatred. “I know it was an accident... That's the only thing stopping me from beating your ass right now,” he hissed, his voice dangerous and shaking with anger.
Guilt consumed me and, for a small moment, outweighed my fear. I lifted my hand to his cheek and gently caressed the dark blue bruise covering his jaw. “Oh God, Riley... I am so sorry... I am so fuuccking sorry,” I whispered.
“Don't fuuccking touch me, Sam,” he growled as he jerked away from my touch, shoving my hand away.
----
I had forgotten how I'd gotten to this point. I knew I hadn't initiated confrontation, but I couldn't seem to remember what had. My thoughts bled together and my head spun as a result of the alcohol I had throughout the night. The unforgettable sensation of a fist connecting with the side of my jaw only further fogged my memory and comprehension.
I was partially aware of the group of people surrounding us, watching the altercation with curious eyes, their words instigating what I was trying so hard to prevent. I stepped backwards, trying to get away from my attacker but failing miserably as he directed another blow to the opposite side of my jaw. For some reason, even after two hits, I still refused to initiate any form of retaliation.
I clenched my eyes shut against the sting my jaw, feeling my balance wavering as his fist came into contact with my jaw for a third time. My knees buckled as I fell to the ground, pain shooting from every molecule in my body as he impaled his foot into my side. I recoiled from the infliction, before I forced myself to stand and face my assailant.
I opened my eyes and clenched my fist, raising it for the first time and lunging forward with determination. Despite my initial hesitation, I reacted to every blow he delivered. His green eyes, that had previously burned with conviction, were now darkening as his resolved crumbled.
I lost track of time and I could feel my sensibility slipping from my grasps. My side was aching with a sharp pain and I could feel blood running down the side of my face, mixing with sweat and mud and staining my clothing. I swallowed hard, a metallic twinge lingering on my tongue as an involuntary whimper escaped me.
I was sore – injured from the first three punches that I had failed to respond to. I needed this to end; I needed to find shelter and assess the damage. I figured if I could deliver a hard enough punch to his jaw, I could escape. I clenched my eyes shut and balled my fist, pulling back and swinging forward with every ounce of strength I still possessed. My fist connected with his cheekbone and I lifted my gaze for a small moment to meet my opponent's... Only, when our eyes connected, it wasn't the deep green that I'd seen multiple times throughout the fight – it was gray.
My brows pulled together in consideration – fear and anxiety consuming me as I witnessed the large bruise forming on the right side of his face. His gaze was heated and intense, darkening with anger. The entire surroundings quieted and everything seemed to move in slow motion. The people surrounding us slowly backed away from the scene, as though they knew the extent of what just happened. Even my attacker stood there, his expression shrouded with shock and confusion.
Riley. I had just punched Riley. And suddenly, the words from a month ago flitted into my mind: “One more fight, Sam... And I'm done.”
Any remaining alcohol in my system cleared away and I sobered up immediately. I felt sick to my stomach, and it wasn't the result of the alcohol; no, I knew what I had just done and it was enough to cause liquid panic to run through my veins. My sore muscles shook as a million shudders ran throughout my body. I felt paralyzed – my mind shutting down from the inexplicable fear. Time slowed as I watched Riley step closer, pull his fist back and punch me directly in my face, his eyes burning with a vexation so powerful, it intensified the blow somehow.
I stumbled backwards, my legs giving out from beneath me causing me to collapse, once again. I stared up at him like a deer in headlights. “Riley... I'm, oh God, I'm so sorry... I didn't... I didn't mean to, it was an accident.”
He kneeled down in front of me, his gaze filled with an emotion so strong, it could only be classifies as hatred. “I know it was an accident... That's the only thing stopping me from beating your ass right now,” he hissed, his voice dangerous and shaking with anger.
Guilt consumed me and, for a small moment, outweighed my fear. I lifted my hand to his cheek and gently caressed the dark blue bruise covering his jaw. “Oh God, Riley... I am so sorry... I am so fuuccking sorry,” I whispered.
“Don't fuuccking touch me, Sam,” he growled as he jerked away from my touch, shoving my hand away.