The Day I Died For You

Evan Durant locked eyes with his opponent, his gaze filled with confidence and determination. They had danced this brutal tango before, exchanging blows and testing each other's limits. But tonight, something felt different. A fire burned within him, a hunger to transcend his limitations and emerge victorious.

The bell rang, and the crowd erupted in a cacophony of cheers and jeers. He stepped forward, his footwork light and agile. The rhythm of the fight began to pulse through his veins, guiding his movements like a well-rehearsed symphony.

Jab. He extended his left arm, snapping it forward with precision and speed, aiming for his opponent's guard. It connected, snapping the opponent's head back ever so slightly, a sign that he had landed a clean hit.

Jab. Again, he struck out with his left, this time aiming for the opponent's body. His fist found its mark, digging into the opponent's ribs. They winced, a momentary vulnerability that spurred him on.

Cross. He pivoted on his back foot, channeling the power of his entire body into a single explosive punch. His right fist surged forward like a cannonball, seeking the sweet spot on the opponent's chin. The impact reverberated through his arm, a satisfying collision that sent shockwaves of adrenaline surging through him.

Guard. In the split second after the cross, he swiftly brought his fists up, protecting his face and body from any counterattacks. Defense was just as crucial as offense, a delicate balance of anticipation and reaction.

Hook. He unleashed a swift, arcing blow with his left hand, aiming for the side of the opponent's head. It was a punch fueled by raw determination, a testament to the countless hours he had spent honing his craft. The hook found its mark, jolting the opponent's head sideways and leaving them momentarily dazed.

Hook. Again, he repeated the motion, this time with his right hand. The hook swept in from the other side, adding to the whirlwind of strikes assaulting the opponent. The impact reverberated through his knuckles, a symphony of power and precision.

The dance continued, their bodies weaving and bobbing, each movement calculated and executed with the precision of a masterful choreography. It was a battle of wills, a test of strength and endurance. He traded blows, feeling the sting of his opponent's punches and returning the favor with unwavering resolve.

But fate, as it often does, had other plans for him. In the midst of their relentless exchange, a distraction presented itself, a momentary lapse in focus. It was all it took for his opponent to seize the opportunity, landing a devastating blow that caught him off guard.

He crumbled to the canvas, his body refusing to respond. The referee's count echoed in his ears, a grim reminder of the inevitable. Ten seconds might as well have been an eternity as he lay there, defeated and broken.

The arena blurred as he stumbled out of the ring, the weight of his defeat heavy upon his shoulders. He walked home, his steps slow and labored, the taste of bitterness lingering on his tongue. The city's streets stretched out before him, the hum of distant traffic accompanying his solitary journey.

As he turned a corner, his eyes caught sight of a dimly lit alleyway. A muffled cry broke the silence, and his instincts kicked in. Despite his own pain, an ember of courage sparked within him. He approached cautiously, peering into the darkness.

There, in the shadows, he saw a figure—a hooded assailant towering over a defenseless victim. Without thinking, his fists clenched, knuckles raw and bruised, as he prepared to intervene.

With a burst of speed, he lunged forward, landing a devastating blow on the unsuspecting assailant. They staggered back, momentarily stunned by his unexpected presence. The victim's eyes widened in relief, their gratitude etched on their face.

But in the midst of the chaos, he felt a searing pain erupt in his back. A blade found its mark, piercing through his flesh with a sickening thud. He gasped, the air escaping his lungs in a wheeze. His body went limp, crumbling to the ground alongside the fallen assailant.

He turned to look at the blade firmly wedged between his shoulder blades, as his vision went black.

Evan Durant, age 35 died at the hands of a kidnapper.