Committed by Alycia Taylor Read Free Book Online Page B

gotten in a few kicks and one or two soft punches. The first round was
definitely his. Toward the end, when only seconds remained I used my defense as an offense. I let him come at me
like a whirlwind, throwing punches right and left as I blocked and ducked and
covered up, but never threw one back. I was avoiding
sure punishment if he connected and at the same time I was letting him wear
himself down. Occasionally a punch would connect, letting me know where his nickname came from. But for the most part, until the bell rang, I had avoided them.
    The true pain was coming from the audience, most of
who knew nothing about fighting strategies and thought that by not throwing
punches I was just being a big pussy. They were verbal
about it and as I tipped my head back for Sam to pour
my energy drink in I caught Emmi’s eyes. She was
giving me what I’m sure she thought was an encouraging
look. From where I sat, it looked more like
constipation. Maybe I wasn’t seeing things correctly
from being so drained.
    I glanced over at my quick opponent in his corner. He was sitting on his stool
with his legs stretched out in front of him and his arms resting on his chest,
which was heaving as he deeply gulped down air. He had
his eyes closed and I was sure that he was soaking in
what the crowd was saying. They mostly wanted him to knock me out, pin me or break something vital. They wanted him to “end the pussy” in the
second round. They were screaming about how much faster he was than me , telling him to knock me on my ass. I blocked it all out as best I could. I knew I was doing
the right thing. I looked at Sam and he winked at me,
he knew it too.
    The bell rang and I advanced slowly, letting him come the longer distance to reach me. He was fired up again and although he was tired, he wasn’t done
yet. He soon would be though, I realized as I watched
him. He didn’t have a Sam. No one had told him that when you face an opponent
of equal strength and skill, reserving some of your stamina for the end was
entirely necessary.
    He started attacking in a tumultuous onslaught of
kicks and punches with the audience still screaming at me to fight back. He wanted the pace to be fast, he
wanted the fight to be over so he could go celebrate with his friends, his
girlfriend or his wife. I wasn’t going to accommodate
him. I went on holding on to my strength, because I
still knew that with this guy, that was going to be the key.
    Meanwhile, he was throwing his away as quickly as he
could and audience favorite or not, he was perilously close to losing it all.
To the majority of the onlookers it seemed like I was
hopelessly surpassed, but I knew there were a wise few out there who knew that
if they had bet on me, their money was just as sure as if it were already in
the bank.
    When the second round ended, I knew I was still losing.
    The third round began the same as the previous two.
He was still doing all the leading and I was still
taking most of the punishment. I could see the change
in his eyes, the overconfidence that came from dominating the first two rounds.
I had fallen for that one myself a time or two . It was
enough to cause him to leave me an opening and as soon
as he did, I took it. My right arm flashed out the
second I saw it and it was the first real punch I had landed all night. I had pivoted my body before I threw it and it had landed
against his left jaw with all of my weight behind it, knocking him to the
floor. The audience suddenly reevaluated their opinions of me and they were on their feet screaming at me to finish him off.
    Crusher was visibly shaken .
He rolled over in slow motion and attempted to get up but by that time my full weight was on his back and he was pinned to the
floor. The audience was screaming. No one was going to have a voice in the
morning. Their excitement gave him a surge of adrenaline and he was actually
able to get one knee underneath himself and push us up off the floor about half
an inch. I used the