The grab on my arm, the pull until I landed hard on the floor. Air left my lungs before I even understood what was happening. He kicked me hard in the stomach, forcing the small amount of air I had left to leave my body.
Then another kick, this time to my ribs, forcing me to turn around.
He kept kicking and stomping on me like I was some fucking insect under his shoe. There was no rhythm to it, just force and rage. Ribs, side, stomach, head. Again.
Again.
Again.
Again.
The room tilted, and my vision started to blur at the edges. Another kick in the face, making my head spin toward the door. I just lay there and let it happen while the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth.
The blur at the edges got more intense, and I was on the verge of passing out. That’s when I saw familiar boots standing in the hallway past the open door. My vision dragged upward, following the legs until my eyes landed on his face.
Zwierek.
He was just standing there, looking at me with a cold expression in his eyes. Not moving, not jumping to my rescue, just fucking standing there observing me getting my ass kicked.
Our eyes met while Bartosz continued to kick me, oblivious to Zwierek’s presence. We locked eyes, and for a second, everything else disappeared. He just stared at me. And then, a small movement, barely there.
A nod.
That’s it.
And suddenly, everything became very clear.
I grabbed Bartosz' ankle mid-air, hard. My other hand pushed up, and I put everything into it, all my force. A loud crack echoed from his bones. He screamed in pain as he collapsed to the ground. Adrenaline burned through my veins, spreading through my body until it felt like I was on fire.
My gaze flickered to the heavy metal doorstop, and without thinking, I grabbed it. I turned toward Bartosz and brought it down on his face with all my strength. I straddled him, another blow. His hands flailed around my face in a desperate attempt to defend himself.
Another hit.
And another.
And another.
It was as if everything I had ever experienced had been leading up to this moment.
One more, harder this time.
My thoughts scattered, crashing into each other inside my head, an inner chaos that translated itself into heavier strikes. I could barely hear the sound of bones breaking over the rushing roar of blood in my ears.
Another blow.
Blood sprayed more and more with each hit until I was covered in it.
Another hit.
And another.
Eventually, my arm stopped. I had no idea how long it had been, how long I had been hitting him. All I knew was that there was nothing left to hit. No face anymore, just… something unrecognizable. If you hadn’t known it was Bartosz lying there, you wouldn’t have been able to tell. Whatever had once been his face didn’t even resemble one anymore.
The room smelled different at that point.
My hand loosened, and the doorstopper hit the floor. The sound felt far away. I stood up slowly, my body shaking uncontrollably, keeping my gaze fixed on what was left of Bartosz. My head moved to the side, locking eyes with Zwierek.
He hadn’t moved the entire time, not even a step. He just stood there, watching me. And for some reason I couldn’t explain, I broke my silence and spoke for the first time since I was a child. I could hardly recognize my own voice; it had changed, deepened, darker than I remembered it. The words came out broken, worn, and deepened by adrenaline and years of silence.
