JT's Reign (Jay Taylor - Pause)

//3

c h a p t e r  3

            "You must have nothing to live for," he, the fast-talker, jokes, narrowing his eyes at me in the hopes of intimidating me. He soon realizes that his goal will not be achieved – I am not going anywhere.

I shrug, refusing to satisfy him with a response. They're deadbeats – real let-downs.

           "You're stubborn. One against five," the second - the most reasonable from them - continues to try and sway me out of my decision so that things will not have to get any messier, "and for what? A stranger? Someone you don't even know."

"Actually," Kyle pulls himself back up to his feet, "it's two on five."

           The blood begins to pump faster through my veins at seeing his initial uncertainty. I frown. He should've just stayed down. He'll only get in the way.

As if reading my mind, he turns to grin at me, flashing me a thumbs up as if to say that he's got this. I scoff at the unlikelihood of that happening.

          He sees my expression and takes matters into his own hands. Without thinking, he jerks to the left, landing one on the reasonable guy who had not been expecting it – no one had, not even me. Hell, even Kyle looks surprised, more so than any of us.

I might be wrong about him. He probably can handle his own. Then again, he should be able to as he lives in South Africa – one of the world's highest crime rated countries.

         "Look," the fast-talker chirps, motioning over to the body cowering behind me in fear, "he owes us money. It's nothing personal."

'You want out? This is the way. It's nothing personal, JT.'

         At hearing the words 'nothing personal' a trigger is set off within me. Before I even know what I'm doing, I'm launching at him through the air. When I look again, he's pinned down on the ground before me and I'm sending fist after fist his way, not able to comprehend anything in the moment. Kyle has to drag me off him.

The others jump in on the fight. It quickly becomes a free-for-all.

         I find myself hitting and ducking, missing a fist before coming up swiftly to punch another with a right hook. It's all in the timing.

There's something about a fight that spurs me on. During hard times, it's an outlet for anger. These days, I need that outlet. It's second nature.

       Kyle has at it too, knocking one on the nose with his fist, bobbing from side-to-side like a boxer on his toes. He shakes out his fist as if inexperienced, cradling it close to him, before turning to me with widened eyes, "His face is made of stone. I think I just broke my fist."

I read into it, figuring it out, suppressing a grin at the way he put it.

      "You've never been in a fight?" I state more than ask, shoving him out of the line of the next fist heading his way.

He recovers before shaking his head at me, confirming it.

       "Fantastic," I mutter in sarcasm, dodging the fifth's poor aim whilst trying to put together a plan in my head. I need a vivid picture to work out how this is going to go. I can't fight if I don't see an end. I need a way to get us out of this.

Alert, I skim over their faces, seeking a weakness.

       I stop at the red-eyed and seemingly aggressive one - the fourth guy, the guy who happens to be shaky on his feet. He's off balance. He is definitely high, no doubts about it. He has no fuel because he can't even think straight.