Bishop

“No, you haven’t.”He smirks.“You just think you have.”

“What I think is I’m sick of listening to your mouth.I swore to myself the last time I saw you, I wouldn’t listen to you again.”I crack my knuckles.“I swore I would make you feel the way I did for so long.”

“You think you’re big enough?C’mon.”

The swing I take at him holds years of resentment, fear, and not ever feeling like I’m good enough.When it lands, the relief is palpable in my body.My knuckles scream in pain as the bones crack.He stumbles backwards, obviously not anticipating the hatred I had saved up for that one punch.It takes him a moment to collect himself before throwing his own punch, which misses terribly when I duck away.Rearing back for another, my arm is grabbed and I’m spun around to face my other nemesis.

The brother who never stood up for me.

The older one who should’ve been there to protect me.If there’s anything I’ve learned from Heaven Hill, it’s you protect who you care about, and the people you don’t?You let them fry.This man here didn’t give a shit about me.He let me take each and every beating our dad handed down to me.Immediately, I know I’m screwed.

“Fuck you,” I throw at him as he turns me around, holding my arms behind my back.

Faced with the man who tortured me holding a steel pipe, I say my prayers and hope this isn’t the time he kills me.