Joey staggered back, his footing momentarily uncertain. His hulking frame swayed, and for the first time, his face bore the evidence of my defiance—swollen flesh, split skin, the raw sting of my knuckles imprinted on him.
It wasn't much. But it was something.
Then his expression twisted. The arrogance drained from his eyes, replaced with something darker. Meaner. His lip curled, his breath came rough and ragged.
"You little bitch," he spat, voice dripping venom. "I'll fucking kill you."
Then he came at me.
Fast. Too fast.
I slipped past his first wild swing, but I didn't see the second. His fist, a hammer, was already there, filling my vision, impossibly big—
Then it hit.
My skull snapped back like a whip. Crack. White-hot pain exploded behind my eyes, my teeth clashed hard enough to make my jaw ache. My vision flickered, twisting and stretching, the church melting into a smear of color.
I blinked—or at least I thought I did. Nothing made sense. The world tilted.
Then—pressure.
A hand. His hand.
It locked around my throat like an iron shackle, cutting off air, cutting off thought. My body reacted before my mind could catch up, hands shooting up to claw at his wrist, nails digging in, muscles straining.
No give. No mercy.
Joey grinned, his grip tightening. My lungs screamed. My heartbeat pounded in my ears, a frantic drumbeat of survival.
Then came the blows.
One. My skull rattled.Two. My teeth bit into my tongue, copper flooding my mouth.Three. Four. Five. I lost count.
The world stuttered. My thoughts fragmented. Was this it? No—no. It couldn't be.
But my body didn't agree.
Blood dripped down my face, warm and thick, seeping into my collar. My limbs felt detached, like they belonged to someone else. My lungs fought for air. Then—blackness.
A void swallowed me whole.
Then—pain.
I snapped back, gasping, the cold stone beneath me jarring me back into existence. My ears rang, drowning the world in a sharp, piercing whine. Joey was saying something, his voice distorted, like I was underwater.
What was happening? Where was I?
I tried to piece it together, but my brain wouldn't cooperate. Then—a crackle of memory.
A scream. Her scream.A laugh. His laugh. That deep, bellowing sound that slithered into my nightmares, curled in the dark corners of my mind.
One of them was here. Right here.
The reason I started this fight. The reason I built myself into something harder, sharper. The reason I swore I would never lose.
And I was losing.
No. Not yet.
I forced my body up, every muscle groaning in protest. My vision blurred, my balance wavered, but I pushed through. Staggering. Bleeding. But standing.
Joey's eyes locked onto me. Cold. Calculated. A predator watching its wounded prey.
The ringing in my ears faded, his voice bleeding through like poison.
"-little Viper, about to scream for your mommy?"
Something in me snapped.
My feet moved before my mind caught up, rage tearing through the fog of pain. I closed the distance faster than I thought possible, my body ignoring the protests of battered muscles.
I swung first. Too slow.
His counter came fast—a brutal punch, the kind that could shatter bone. I ducked, the air above me splitting as his fist cut through it. Close. Too close. But I was already moving, diving low, lunging behind him.
Adrenaline hit me like a drug.
My arms locked around his massive torso. A desperate, reckless bear hug. Every muscle in my body clenched as I pulled. He let out a grunt of surprise, his feet lifting—just an inch. Just enough.
I could do this.
I leaned back, dragging every ounce of my strength into the motion. My spine screamed. My arms burned. But I kept pulling. More. More.
Then—I dropped him.
The impact shook the ground. A deep, resounding bang that rattled through my bones. Dust rose in a thick cloud, swallowing us both.
I pounced, fists raining down, desperation fueling every strike. Just die. Die already.
A flicker of movement.
His meaty palm blurred in the corner of my vision—too fast to react. Then—smack.
A slap? No, a hammer. My skull rang like a broken bell.
I snarled, pushing through the pain, fists still driving into his face. I didn't know if I was hitting flesh, air, or the floor beneath him. I just kept swinging. Harder. Faster.
Then—his arms shot out. Iron clamps.
I froze.
He gripped my collar with the strength of a vice, yanking me closer. Too close. Oh no.
A shadow loomed, then—crack.
His forehead met mine in a brutal headbutt. White-hot agony exploded across my skull. My body seized, vision blurring, stars bursting in my eyes.
Through the haze, I saw his grin—bloodied, wild.
Then—bang.
Another headbutt.
A sickening crunch. My sight flickered, darkness licking at the edges of my mind, threatening to drag me under. No. Not yet.
I tried to pull away. Had to. His grip tightened. No escape. I yanked harder, my shirt straining, fabric tearing. A sharp snap.
Free. I rolled back, gasping, putting distance between us. For now.
He pushed himself up, slow and steady, while I stood there, lungs burning, trying to catch my breath.
"That all you've got?" My voice came out rough, barely more than a rasp.
His lips curled, a snarl tearing through the silence. Then, he moved.
I reacted, or tried to—legs tensing, body ready to shift. But—nothing.
A split-second delay. A betrayal. My leg refused to move.
Oh fuck.
His fist smashed into my temple, a sledgehammer to the skull. My brain sloshed against the inside of my head. A cold, dizzying fog crept in.
Then another punch. Hard. My head snapped to the side.
Then another.
And another.
A relentless storm of fists. My body reeled with every impact, but there was nowhere to go, nowhere to run. I was trapped.
The kick came out of nowhere.
A blur. A crack. A starburst of pain detonating in my skull.
Then—darkness.
I sank into it, weightless, drifting. But something burned beneath it all, something I could never escape. Hatred.
It had always been there, buried under my skin, coiled around my ribs like a serpent. But now—now it was something else. Something bigger. Something alive.
I opened my eyes to a hazy world. My vision swam, the dim glow of the church warping around me. A silhouette loomed, closing in, slow, deliberate.
Joey.
And then—her screams.
The past crashed into me, sharp as shattered glass. That night. That shack. His laughter. The way she begged. The way I stood there, frozen, useless. My breath locked in my throat while they—they—
A sound tore from my chest, something raw, something broken. My fingers clawed at the dirt, nails scraping stone. My body shook—not from pain, not from fear.
From rage.
Pure. Unfiltered. Agonizing. Rage.
It was unbearable, suffocating, an inferno eating me from the inside out. And it wouldn't stop—it would never stop—not until I saw blood, until I bathed in their blood.
More.
More than this. Way more than this.
Then, I felt it.
Something deep within me snapped. Not just one thing—everything.
Chains. Dozens of them. Hundreds. Snapping, breaking, unraveling like thread.
And then—the flood.
A force unlike anything I had ever known surged through me, roaring like a tidal wave, filling every cell, every nerve, every piece of my shattered soul.
My breath hitched. My fingers curled into fists. My heart pounded like war drums inside my chest.
What is this?
His boot shot toward my face, a steel-clad missile aimed to put me down for good.
But I didn't flinch.
I didn't need to.
Something inside me had changed. Fear had been burned away, replaced by something sharper, something darker. A hunger, a certainty.
I would kill him. I would tear him apart.
My body moved—not away, not to dodge, but forward. I met his kick with my head.
A sickening crack split the air.
And then—he was the one stumbling back. His hulking frame tumbled, boots scraping against the stone floor, barely keeping himself upright.
I had won.
Against all logic, all reason—I had won.
A grin stretched across my face, something unfamiliar, something primal. Then came the laughter—deep, guttural, unstoppable. It clawed up my throat, ripped from my lungs, echoing through the hollow church like a curse.
So this is what it feels like.
Joey's eyes locked onto me, wide, frantic. He was afraid.
For the first time, the brute who had tormented me, broken me, haunted my every waking moment—was afraid.
And I relished it.
His face twisted in rage, but beneath it, I saw the truth—the flicker of panic, the sudden doubt.
"What have you done?!" His voice cracked, the bravado shaken. "You fucking little rat!"
I just laughed harder.
The sound rolled through the abandoned church, bouncing off the rafters, filling every empty space. It didn't feel like mine. It felt like something else. Something new.
I rose to my feet, sharp, precise—like a blade drawn from its sheath. Power crackled beneath my skin, searing, intoxicating. My limbs felt weightless, yet bursting with strength. Unstoppable. Invincible.
Joey was done. I'd make sure of it.
My muscles coiled, and then—I moved.
Faster than I ever had, faster than I thought possible. The world blurred around me, reduced to meaningless streaks of light and shadow. Only he existed, only this moment.
In a blink, I was there.
My fist shot out, drilling into his gut.
A deep, hollow thud. A noise that felt more satisfying than any sound I'd ever heard.
Joey folded. His body crumpled, stumbling backward, his breath torn from his lungs.
But I wasn't done. I wouldn't let him breathe.
I was on him again before his balance returned, my body moving on its own—pure instinct, pure hunger. My knuckles found his jaw next, crashing against bone with a brutal, resounding crack.
Down.
He hit the ground like dead weight.
Exhilaration.
It poured through me, hotter than fire, sweeter than anything I had ever known. My lips curled. This was control. This was power.
And I wanted more.
I mounted him, straddling his beaten frame. But this time—this time was different. I wasn't desperate. I wasn't fighting for survival.
I was the predator.
His wide, bloodshot eyes darted up at me, dazed, confused.
Good. Stay confused. Stay weak. Stay beneath me.
Then I swung.
My fist crashed into his face.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Knuckles to flesh, bone to bone, over and over, until the rhythm of it became a song in my head. A beautiful, violent song.
More. I needed more.
His face—her screams. His blood—her blood.
It wasn't enough. Not yet.
I struck again, harder, deeper.
His skin split, the warm spray of blood coating my knuckles, my arms.
Still not enough.
I kept going, drowning in it, sinking into something deep, dark, and endless.
And I didn't want to come back.
I jolted back to reality, my knuckles slamming into something soft—too soft.
Not flesh.
Not bone.
Just... mush.
I blinked. My breath hitched. Where was his head?
I tore my gaze down. Red. That was all I saw. A pulpy mess of blood and gore where his face used to be.
My stomach twisted. How much time had passed?
Then it hit me. The weakness.
A crushing, all-consuming exhaustion slammed into my body, dragging me down like lead weights. My limbs trembled, my fingers barely able to curl into fists. The rush, the power—it was gone.
And all that was left was me.
I rolled off his body, barely registering the cold, hard ground beneath me before my stomach lurched. Bile surged up my throat.
I heaved. Again. Again. My body convulsed, purging itself, rejecting the horror of what I had done.
The air reeked of iron, sweat, and death. My chest heaved as I wiped my mouth with the back of my trembling hand.
Then—
Laughter.
It bubbled up, unbidden, raw and guttural.
At first, it was just a chuckle. A breathless, shaky thing. Then it grew—louder, wilder, untamed.
Pure, unfiltered joy.
I threw my head back, letting it spill out, letting it echo through the hollow church like a hymn to the gods.
"Mother, do you see this?"