blocking out the pain || Arc || blitz
Feb 6, 2016 11:29:14 GMT -5
Post by frankel on Feb 6, 2016 11:29:14 GMT -5
[googlefont="Fredericka the Great:400"]
Lockie O'Dea
Every hit I get is another ounce of respect wiped away from me. I am a humiliation in this centre, a useless, worthless streak of piss. It’s no wonder that my father is more or less disowning me and focusing on my sister. I wish I was like her. I wish I had her skills and spirit, I wish I could stand up to my father like she does. Everything that Genoa is, is just the complete opposite to me. Really I was born in the wrong District. I need more of a peaceful life, like in Ten or Eleven. The ruthlessness that comes with being a career is nothing like me.
Attempting the block the punches thrown at me, it is no use; the opponent that I am up against is too good, even though he is so much younger. Defence is not my strongest suit; I am more of a weapon throwing guy. Hand to hand combat is out of the equation for me but I must practice, I have to keep my father happy. For if he is happy, I am happy. Thankfully he is unable to see me now, getting my ass wiped by a fifteen year old.
Eyes surround the mat that we’re practicing on; I can hear the whispers and giggles of people insulting my efforts. Finally, I raise the white flag; I can’t go on like this. Surrendering to the fight, my opponent smirks, taking in all the glory from his win. Sitting on the side-lines of the mat, I’d pour a bottle of liquid over my head. As it hits my face, it sends the most refreshing feeling through my body. Sitting against the wall, I’d ponder on my disaster of a performance….
You’re useless Lockie, why are you even here?
Attempting the block the punches thrown at me, it is no use; the opponent that I am up against is too good, even though he is so much younger. Defence is not my strongest suit; I am more of a weapon throwing guy. Hand to hand combat is out of the equation for me but I must practice, I have to keep my father happy. For if he is happy, I am happy. Thankfully he is unable to see me now, getting my ass wiped by a fifteen year old.
Eyes surround the mat that we’re practicing on; I can hear the whispers and giggles of people insulting my efforts. Finally, I raise the white flag; I can’t go on like this. Surrendering to the fight, my opponent smirks, taking in all the glory from his win. Sitting on the side-lines of the mat, I’d pour a bottle of liquid over my head. As it hits my face, it sends the most refreshing feeling through my body. Sitting against the wall, I’d ponder on my disaster of a performance….
You’re useless Lockie, why are you even here?
297 words