Despite the title, this isn't a story about a treehouse.
This is a story about love.
This is about two people who allowed change and fear to ruin something beautiful.
Letting years go by,
Only to realize that they should've fought harder for the o...
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I was onto the fourth round and I could see the frustration that was brewing in my opponent's eyes.
His arrogance in the beginning quickly fading as he realizes this wasn't going to be an easy fight.
I managed to avoid any serious hits, just a couple of bruises on my sides and cheek, but nothing I couldn't handle.
Though I couldn't say the same about my opponent who was currently sporting a bloody nose, the discoloring around his left eye foreshadowed a black that would make its appearance the next morning, the bruising around his mid-cage and the way he was putting more weight on his left side indicted that his ribs were fractured.
I didn't allow my opponent's current state to go to my head, knowing this could still be anyone's game.
From my observation, I knew if I played my cards right we won't reach 8 rounds if I manage to get a knockout.
Ring
The ringing of the bell signaled the beginning of round five.
With one last sip of water, I popped my mouthguard back in before moving back to the center of the stage.
Unlike the last four rounds, I threw the first punch.
Deril easily dodged my hit but was unable to dodge the kick I sent into his right side.
He hit the ground releasing a groan of pain, his ribs in worst condition than they were before.
I heard the referee begin to do an eight-count, but Deril slowly made his way back up.
His stance was slightly off, but he had a determined look in his eyes that impressed me.
Too bad I'm just as determined.
Once again we danced around the ring, dodging one another attacks, though I could see fatigue catching up to my opponent, the adrenaline rush he was feeling before now fading.
I began rolling with the punches, throwing jabs back and forth as I slowly backed him up against the ropes.
I ducked, easily dodging the sloppy jab he sent before sending an uppercut to his jaw.
Deril slumped against the ropes in a daze.
I stepped back giving him a chance to get back up, though it looked like he was on the verge of collapsing.
I watched as Deril spit blood from his mouth, the crimson color standing out against the white mat.
He currently looked like a deranged bull out for blood.
Like someone waved a red flag before his eyes, he began to charge at me in rage.
Before he can get in a hit, I sent a powerful right hook to his face.
With the final blow, Deril fell face forward unto the mat.
His body was unmoving showing that he was unconscious.
