Page 176 of The Breaking Pointe
“Atta-boy!” Trey laughs, smacking my chest and stealing my mouth guard.
I blink my eyes a few times as his face comes into focus. “Open up.”He points at me, holding a water bottle above my head.
I lean my head back, blinking some more as I open my mouth and feel water fill up in it.I close it, and as it runs down my throat, I already start to feel hydrated.
“My fucking face…” I pant, searching for my breath. “Yeah,Iknow,holdstill,”hesays,holdingthetowelto
my nose.
Closing my eyes again, I let him aide me, but they jump open instantly when I feel soft fingers on my ankle.
“Colton!”avoicepleadsfrombelowme.
I look over my shoulder to my trapped ankle and see Noelle. “You okay?”she calls up to me.
Knowing it’s her touch, my body feels a sense of healing. Nodding, I respond loudly through the roaring of the crowd.
“Course I am, sweetheart,” I say with a wink.
She’s able to gimme a smile briefly before Trey turns my head back to his directions, dabbing my nose more.He then stands me up and shoves my mouthpiece back intomy mouth.
“Lock in.” He nods, firmly squeezing the back of my neck beforeleadingmetothemiddletofacethemonsteronce
again.Everything is moving so fast.I blink and my break is over like that.Daniel having knocked some sense into me and seeing my angel of a companion is like starting over again.
Onlythistime,everythingisbeginningtosting.
Daniel stands before me, battered in the face, but holding a proud expression as if he had so far proved his point. The referee is beside us again, reciting his ritual, and letting the bell ring—to all of which my ears had fallen numb to.At this point, I’m leading with motion and keeping my reflexes sharp.
“I’m playing fair,” he exasperates, shaking out his arms. “Are you?”
I take a moment to decide wisely on my response.Yes or no answers maybe theonly thingthat can’tgetme introuble.
“No,”Isaykindly.
This time, the storm is brewing inside of me.I wait for the bell to finish its singing to then throw the first punch—a desperate haymaker aimed straight for his cheekbone. My blow sends him flying into a corner with no seats. Catching himself on one knee, the crowd then decides to react in despair for his well-being.When he gets stabilized, he stands up straight and slow, like something out of a horror film. His eyes are glazed, his veins bulging in his neck, and he comes after me, swinging a blow to my head.Just in time, I duck—but not before he surprises me with reckless abandon, hitting me in my side.
The ambiance of the crowd fades away, and replacing it is the sound of the cracking of his glove against my flesh, then my pulse, and then our ragged breaths as I nearly fall backwards, catching my footing at the last second.
Gasping for air finally, I let out a blustering groan, holding my side as I try to keep the fleeting pain under control.
The same side he stabbed. The same side. Now it’s time to react.Fuck a third round.
Taking another deep breath, the sound of different voices distinguish themselves in my ears.And loudest of all is Noelle, standing in my corner like it’s life or death, right here and now.
“You wanna try again?You gonna be a bitch?”Daniel yells, holding his fists up as though he decided he’s in the lead.
I do want to try again, but it’ll be the last time I ever have to. I’m gonna make sure of it.
He opens his mouth, as if fixing to yell some more absurd backtalk to me, but I’m already getting a move on with my big finale. Ignoring his banter and the sweat in my eyes, my muscles scream in protest as I tread toward him and take one big step into faking out a temple jab for an uppercut. And instead of leaving it there—I keep it going.
Punch, jab, strike, pound—every single possible form of brutal connection I can make with both of my gloves, back to back. They’re soaked on the inside with sweat, and soon to be soaked on the outside with blood. Every blow feels like I’m mashing my fists into a steel that’s slowly dissolving into Jell-O as I watch him grow weaker while fighting to get one hit in—and failing miserably. Even still, I have to keep going until he gives up.I refuse to show any mercy for him.
He never did for anybody else.
I’m battered and bloody, but unbowed.I stand resolute amid the chaos.My chest heaves with every single move, tremblingwithexhaustionfromtheinsideout.Everypunch
I throw is a defiance of the pain threatening to swallow me whole. My mind is full of fog, and my knuckles are probably cracking from the overwhelming intensity of using my full body strength against his steroid-filled shell.With threemore good hits left in me, I release them each onto different parts of his body before taking into account that he has been ready to give up for more than a minute.He rushes backward, blinking away stars as he falls on his ass and onto his back. Taking a couple inhalations of air, I watch his face mush against the floor as it turns to the side upon impact, splat- tering blood on the white canvas. My fingertips are tingling, andIcanfeelmultiplebeadsofsweatdrippingdownmy
