• How long it's been since the bitter sweet taste of blood has touched your lips?

    Since you've felt the pleasurable pain of pounding fists in your flesh?

    What was it that brought you here?

    So many questions unanswered. So many thoughts pounding, thrumming, ricocheting on the inside of your skull. Is it really thoughts, or is it your heart beating in your ears? You can't even hear yourself think let alone hear the people around you, cheering, screaming, yelling.

    You feel your body reacting, fight or flight, fight or flight. You've never flown the coop before. Your hunger for rage is what brings you here. The hunger for release. The hunger for freedom.

    You feel the coolness of the ground under you. You're on the ground from a fist to the face. You can't even see straight.

    Pull yourself off the floor little girl. Raise your bloodied knuckles, child. Feel every ache, every pain. You feel the damage to your ribs with every breath. Your vision is blurred. Why? Your left eye is swollen. Sweat drips from your forehead. Is it sweat, or is it blood?

    You feel him behind you. Don't stand. Don't get up. You do.

    You can hear again. Pain is your friend, use it wisely, use it to your advantage. Your mind races back to what you've done to him, his right leg is in pain, you see it in the way he encircles you like a shark, smelling your blood in the air, but limping. You see yourself lunging low at him, taking out his leg, making it hyperextend.

    It's to late for you now, your choice is invalid.

    You're grappled into a hold, feeling his hot, sweaty flesh pressing against yours. Not tenderly, never tenderly. You're back on the ground now. Air is leaving your body at a rapid pace. He outweighs you by over a hundred pounds, but it's not fat, almost all muscle. He's on top of you, practically crushing the air out of your lungs. His arms around your neck, not letting you replenish the air he is forcefully expelling from you.

    You body suddenly takes in everything, the sounds of the people in the crowd, a mix of cheers and boos. The smell of blood, bleach and ammonia on the ground. The feel of impending doom.

    The darkness of unconsciousness begins to light your eyes. You suddenly feel very tired. Oh so tired. It's no use fighting it. It's time for sleep. Time for …