Fight Club

His fist crashes into my side, an explosion of pain and breathlessness. An open palm strikes my face, a gunshot on top of a bee sting, more heard than felt. My tongue gnashes out at my teeth, my lips and cheeks already split where his fists have crushed my cheekbones. Who knows how much blood had spilt from my lips since then…

At first I wanted to fight back, more angry at the slaps and insults than hurt by them, but then once the hands closed, that anger turned quickly into helplessness, timidity. I would much rather crawl into a hole and lick my wounds than beat some motherfucker’s head in right now…

I don’t even know who they are, they just jumped out of a van, the kiss of a sap at my head, then darkness. When I woke up I was handcuffed to this chair that rocks back and forth, side to side, underneath me, as the beatings continue. I cant even feel it anymore, just the movement.


z