I felt the sensation of my knuckles cracking as I clenched my quivering fists at my sides. My hateful glare created the foul atmosphere as it shot through the arrogant smirk being returned by him across from my grimy, blood stained walls, and half destroyed narrow hallway. His pathetic entourage was no match for me. They laid piled up and lifeless in the room before the hallway.
My breathing was slow and calmed, but the beating of my heart increased with every one of those breaths; a true depiction of my hatred building with every passing moment.
I carefully raised my right arm to wipe the dripping sweat from my brow, pulling gradually across my forehead with the back of my dusty white sleeve, never breaking eye contact. The vigorous shake of my hand of the excess another testament of my abhorrence.
His stance was casual, arrogantly posing with the left hand in one pocket, and the right arm hanging loosely to his side clutching a half done cigarette; the wavy stream of smoke reaching the now damaged, flickering light above his head, swirling and tumbling for an escape route. The free arm raised itself slowly to touch fingers to his mouth, placing the cigarette between his lips to deeply inhale its toxic content. The coal on the tip illuminated momentarily, and the breath he took to inhale could be heard from the twenty metre position I stood, and the egotistical exhale created a cloud that hid the smirk and those strong facial features that I’ve known and trusted for so many years for a relieving moment.
Keeping my training fresh in mind, I breathed in deeply through my nose, and breathed out softly from my mouth, finding my centre, creating a space of inner calm.
He glanced down at the cigarette after another drag, then looked back at me. His eye lids were lowered, a wicked grin washing over his face, and I felt his intensity hit me like a rush of adrenalin injected into my veins. His hand was turned palm face up, middle finger curled into his straightened thumb, and where they joined, the smoking butt of his cigarette was ready to be flicked. It infuriated me to know that he was about to toss it onto my floor, and that smirk proved that he knew it.
I waited patiently, unmoved. He raised the cigarette baring hand, and my rage boiled within me. He flicked it upwards. Its spinning rotation the only movement in the hallway, causing all else to freeze momentarily, and the cigarette moving in slow motion as I could tell both of our bodies were aching to attack.
The smoke reached the descent course to the floor, and I cracked my knuckles again to echo the same sound from him, the tension of the fist clench running up my arms. I felt my face pull to a hateful grimace, countering his darkened grin.
The smoke dropped lower.
Lower.
Lower…
…lower…
Tuck.
We broke into a heavy sprint making a bee line straight for each other. I passed the destroyed rooms I had made my home, and became increasingly enraged, building a growl in my throat. His eyes were glaring at me as we stomped closer toward each other, and my growl grew louder, almost doglike.
His right foot crunched on a damaged photo frame that laid amid the filth, and my growl erupted into a primal scream as I picked up speed with a few strides to go.
He bared teeth as he raised his right arm for his first initial strike in his stomping stride, widening his eyes as the adrenalin pumped through him. I saw it coming a mile away; I knew him too well.
My scream pitched, and in anticipation, I started ducking on my last step before I reached him.
We clashed with a body checking thud as I locked our arms together at the elbow joint, ducking under his wild right hook. I allowed his counter force to suspend my body, and my momentum allowed me to tuck my legs into my stomach as I went spinning backwards over his arm still gripping his. As I reached half way with the spin, seeing the view of my hallway inverted, I grappled with my left leg and free arm across is arm and shoulder, twisting it, forcing him to tumble forward if he valued his limb. In the same momentum, I kicked with my right boot heel to the back of his head, but the blow was not nearly hard enough to inflict sufficient damage.
