I grab Damien by the throat, pushing him inside the dorm, and closing the door behind me with my foot, the door slamming shut. His eyes are wide in pure shock, and I don’t plan to give him a moment’s rest.
My hand squeezes around his throat as I slam him into the door of the bathroom, a groan coming from him. That’s when his fight or flight instincts kick in, and he tries to shove me off. I slam him against the cold, hard surface behind him again, hearing a slight crack in his head.
“You fucker,” he hisses. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
“I’ll be very honest with you. I could say that I’m here to defend Sophia’s honor, and all that bullshit, and although it’s the truth on acertain level, I’m mainly doing this to satisfy the anger inside of me.”
Before he can respond, I pull him from the door, and toss him on the floor. That’s when he springs back quickly, fisting his hand and aiming for my face. I duck with ease, using my own fist and punch him right in the throat.
Damien chokes on nothing, gasping for air, he stumbles a couple of steps back, his back hitting the dresser. I’m not generous enough to give him time to regain his composure, I am the type to hit a man when he’s already down. So, I hit him square in the nose, and the sound of his bone cracking reaches my ears. Blood coats my knuckles slowly and it starts to overwhelm me with a sick, twisted sense of satisfaction, especially when he starts cursing me.
“You’re a fucking bastard,” he hisses, and that just irks me. I’ve gotten used to being called that by Sophia, but no one else will ever call me that. Especially not a little fucker like Damien.
“Oh, yeah?” I chuckle. “Then you should be embarrassed that a mere bastard is about to fucking kill you.”
With an animalistic sounding growl, Damien charges toward me. His body’s tense, and he’s on edge. His eyes are focused on me, and the look in his eyes is nothing short of unfiltered rage.
Just to keep my hands clear later on, I let him get a couple of hits in. He manages to get my left cheek, my teeth splitting the flesh inside of my mouth. My tongue gets coated in blood, and I spit it out, directly on his pristine, white shirt.
He hits my stomach with his knee, and I can’t help but laugh. He even fights like a little girl, so it’s no wonder that he’d resort to keeping such an image like Sophia. He’s too much of a pussy to fight fair; then again, I’m not much better, either.
I let him only give me a bruise or two, in case I need to use it as a defensive mechanism later on. Then, with a wicked smirk, Igrab his fist right before it connects with my nose, watching as blood continues to drip out of his.
“I think I’ve given you enough opportunities to hit me,” I laugh. “I can’t let you ruin my face too much; Sophia adores it.”
Before he can react, I pull him forward by the fist, my knee connecting with the lower part of his stomach, hitting him as roughly as possible. Damien groans, doubling over in pain, and falling to his knees.
I take the opportunity to kick him in the face with my foot, and fortunately for me, I do happen to have a pair of Dr. Martens on, and unfortunately for him, it’s the model with the metal front part.
He screams when his tooth gets knocked out, and I get on top of him, one hand holding him by the throat tightly. He’s squirming beneath me, trying his best to shove me off, but he’s either that weak, or he’s used up all the strength he had so far.
“Tell me where you are keeping that image,” I hiss in his ear, and he tenses. “You can either tell me, or I’ll fucking pull it out of you. Either way, I’m not leaving without it.”
“I’m going to fucking ruin your life,” he hisses, but the threat falls flat. “You never deserved her; you know? She’s too good to be with you.”
“And she still chose me,” I grab him by the collar of his shirt, then slam him against the wooden floors. “You can hate that all you want, but it won’t change the fact that even if she hadn’t chosen me, she never would’ve settled for you. Because if someone here isn’t worthy of her, it’s you.”
“You’re a rotten, dirty bastard.”
“Where!” Another punch straight under his jaw, “Are you!” Another one lands directly to his throat, “Keeping the fucking image?”
By now, Damien’s panting like a dog. His entire face is bruised,the dark color already forming on his eyes, his nose definitely broken, and his mouth bleeding.
“I’m never going to tell you,” he rasps out, desperately trying to sound coherent. That pisses me the fuck off, and I’m no longer in control of my own body. My fists are moving on their own, punching every single place I possibly can.
Damien resorts to the bitchiest little move ever — he starts screaming. The loud sound pierces through the room, my ears ringing from the sensation. He’s squirming beneath me, and reaches for his pocket. It’s one split second that catches me off guard, but it’s enough.
He pulls out a pocket knife, and aims for my ribs. My eyes snap shut as the sudden pain shoots through me, but before he can pull it out and stab me again, I’m back to pounding his face with my fists.
My knuckles are bleeding, aching, and the exhilarating sensation spreads through my veins. I reach for the knife inside of me, pulling it out and putting it right to his throat.
Damien freezes.
“Where are the images? Speak, before I fucking kill you.”
“My laptop,” he croaks, finally breaking.
“And copies?”
