But each strike is draining me of energy. I don’t have much left in reserve.
And there’s still so much time left on the clock.
It’s getting harder to breathe. Harder to punch. Harder to block and feint and dodge away from thiscrazed bastard.
He comes at me, fists raised. When his jab lashes out, I try to block it, but I’m too slow and tooweakened. It slips right between my forearms and catches me in the same spot he struck me before.
The pain is molten. Immense.
I put all my willpower into staying on my feet.
I stumble, stumble… and then I fall.
My back hits the canvas hard. The last of my breath goes whisking away at the thump.
Get up, you son of a b***h! Get the f**k up! My father’s words again.
I try to stand. I really do.
But I’m not fast enough.
Dzik’s
