Knock Down

Knock Down

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    LETTURE 17
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WpMetadataReadPer adultiIn corso6m
WpMetadataNoticeUltima pubblicazione lun, ago 8, 2022
HAWKE KINGSTON- I am a professional boxer. My name is Hawke Kingston, age 24. People are always wondering why I love punching people in a boxing ring, only for them to end up fainting, or even better, begging to tap out. My answer? I win. It is not as simple as it sounds, not at all. Call me narcissistic. Call me hot headed. Call me cocky. People don't know me. They may see me, and assume how I live and how I act. But they get ahead of themselves. Thinking they are getting everything right. Bastards. They say the damn cage is pure hell, if you were to be in there. Though, they know the real reason it is 'hell', is when I am in it. HUNTER FOXTON- Why I became a boxer? Ha. Three years ago, my answer would have been different from now. Long story short: in high school, I used to get beaten up, bullied. A reason as to why, I will tell you. No reason, except that I was "gullible and obnoxious". I was also not that tall and skinny. I was an easy target. My dad would see me with these bruises and cuts. He would get furious. He told me I had to learn self defence, sent me to a boxing gym. It took me 9 shitty years, to finally like boxing. Love boxing. Started learning at 14, at the age of 19, still boxing even doing matches. I was fine with it, but if someone told me why I started, I'd say, "dad". And I would laugh it off. Now though, three years later... I love it because, assholes and infuriating dicks, get scared shitless when they see me. I now have that power. And quite frankly, I should be terrified of that. But instead I find pleasure in seeing bullies and whatnot scared. Legs trembling, tail between their legs kind. I am not the same boy I was in high school. I am taller, I am bigger, and I have strength. A shit ton of strength. People wondering why I am like this now? Hmm...just blame my father.
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You know that feeling of being so broken, your entire body is numb and you no longer feel a thing? It happened to me. I shut down whenever someone tries to get close. It's a natural response for me. Normally, I don't form groups of people I'm close to, I fake a smile, walk around like everything's fine. Like I'm fine. Then, afterschool is when all hell usually breaks loose. Nothing. Has. Changed. Not until I meet a tall, lean boy with unique, spiky hair. He's mystifying, unknown, and most of all, unreadable. Not only do I not know who he is or where he comes from, but he seems to know more about me than I realize. To the point that it frightens me. Who is he and why is he claiming that he knows me if I never recall meeting him? A Zoldyck is a dangerous creature.

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