He coughed, spitting out a tooth. He threw another wild punch, swallowing the bile that was building up inside his throat. It went wide, and the momentum caused him to stumble foward, only to be knocked violently back by his opponent’s own fist. He saw stars. He KNEW that this was the one fight he couldn’t win. Hedidn’tcare.
He went at him again, suddenly putting all his weight into a tackle, hoping to catch the sick sonuvabitch offguard. It did, and the fight continued on the cement. He fought with everything he had hoping to make this guy cry out for mercy. To see that shit-faced bastard screw his face up in pain, to kick him overandover until he couldn’t breathe and was gasping for his fucking life. Instead, that was happening to him. He wasn’t there to save his little sister. He couldn’t even make her killer pay.
“It’s when you know you’re licked before you begin but you begin anyway and you see it through no matter what. You rarely win, but sometimes you do.”
And sometimes you don’t.