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卂几ᗪ尺丨丂
𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙼𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚑𝚢† 𝙲𝙷𝙿 𝟸
"FIGHT BACK, BOY!" THE COMMAND WAS BLUNT, AND THE VOICE THAT DEMANDED IT WAS DEEP, almost raspy from it's years from rotting away from the cancerous fumes and nicotine alike. The aged and wrinkled skin of the man before him screwed, his long and greying hair pulled back into a slick and sleek ponytail. Even in ways so mundane, the man controlled everything, controlled perfection to a tee. Andris could never live up to his father, for he had far ascended to heights unreachable at the time. A mere child couldn't possibly fathom the weight of his crown.
But, the heavy and crushing weight of his father's calf wrapped around his frail neck was weighing enough. The headlock was perfect, constricting his breathing just right to the point where the large room began to spin like the way he'd be turned on a rollarcoaster ride. The burning of his legs makes him pray. Pray to whatever lies above for another chance to ride another rollercoaster, a childish wish. The man his father had assigned as his sparring partner didn't give off the impression of being merciful.
The hold was unlocked from his neck, his hand repeatedly tapping the man being the key. He choked and heaved, his entire being trembled and shook from fear and exhaustion. The disapproving click of his father's tongue made his fists clench, the gravel below him collecting in his palm as he clutched onto it.
"Stand up." His father calmly demanded.
He peered down at him, he was too disgusted to lower his head. Only gazing through the lower lids of his monolided eyes. Andris attemped to lift his spent body, but he could feel his knee shake as if he were on unsteady ground.
One drop. Two drops. Tears fell from his eyes and sunk into the dirt as he collasped into the gravel. The tiny rocks left scrapes and miniscule cuts across his skin.
"Stand up, Andris!" He hissed abruptly, the heightened volume causing the child to flinch. He can't fight anymore, he's long-lost that ability from the first jab into his gut that emptied his stomach.
He's tired, yet he's trying. But, that'll never really be enough, will it?
"You can't even stand? I tell you to give it your all and you give me half of you." His father had tangled his fingers into the coils of his hair, a sharp contrast from the slikly strands that were pulled back atop of his head.
"Inho isn't even my child. Tell me why he decapitated his opponent with ease and yet you lay here crying your pathetic ass off. Is that the behavior of a man, boy..?" His question could've be rectorical, but he answered dumbly. Shaking his dizzy head from left to right.
"You think those motherfuckers out there gonna give a damn when you tap out..? There's no tapping out in reality, Andris. I'll beat that fact into you if I have to." He dropped his head, letting it bounce of impact onto the ground before the clicking of his sandals had long disappeared, leaving Andris to wallow in the pain of his own failure.
