Page 72 of A Silence So Divine

“This will be good,” she promises, shooting me a wink. Turning her attention back towards the ring, she wraps a curl of blonde hair around her finger and gnaws at her lip.

What an odd girl.

I swallow hard and whip my head back in Creed’s direction.“Stop him,”I implore.

His eyes are wide, but he doesn’t acknowledge me at all.

Has everyone lost their minds?

Begrudgingly, I face forward. Everyone watches with rapt attention. Even the other group stops what they’re doing and ambles toward the spectacle being made. While Jasper removes his glasses, Cecil empties his pockets, tossing it all onto the grass. Then, with perfectly still fingers, he begins unbuttoning his black flannel.

Oh.

The more of his chest that’s exposed, the drier my mouth gets until I’m choking on my tongue. I’ve seen him shirtless countless times, but never like this. Not in broad daylight, and certainly not when he’s exuding such… power.

The chill is gone, replaced by something I can only describe as a fever.

I blink, and Cecil’s eyes are on mine. Another, and he’s returned his attention to his partner. The two of them square off, awaiting the signaling whistle. Jasper’s smile looks closer to a sneer, while Cecil looks utterly calm and collected. This is deeper than they’re letting on, and everyone else seems to know it, too.

The whistle echoes through the trees, and they launch at one another. My breath gets caught in my lungs. Jasper throws punch after punch, but Cecil easily dodges each one. It’s like a dance, the two of them perfectly in sync.

Jasper’s next blow lands, but barely, and Cecil’s able to grip his arm and twist it behind his back. Jasper bares his teeth, eliciting a guttural yell of frustration.

Eventually Jasper is able to kick back with his boot, narrowly missing Cecil’s shin. However, this loosens his grip, and they’re back to facing one another, toeing around the parameters of the circle.

Gone is any amusement from Jasper’s face; he looks outright vicious.

It’s much of the same: the hits, the dodges. The more time that passes, the heavier Jasper’s breaths become. He’s fatiguing quickly, and I’m beginning to relax.

Cecil is able to swing forward and deliver a punch right to Jasper’s gut, and he doubles over. I wince, although I’m cheering internally. There’s a whoop from the crowd, and this only infuriates Jasper further. Righting himself, he launches toward Cecil with a newfound fervor. Many of his hits miss, but one high kick lands on Cecil’s hip, knocking him off balance. Jasper seizes the opportunity, and brings his fist underneath Cecil’s jaw.

His head snaps back, extending a sweat coated throat. Ihearthe clink of his teeth. Someone calls out, reprimanding Jasper for a “cheap shot”. Cecil staggers momentarily, attempting tocatch his balance. Blood is pouring from his nose, his eyes tearing.

“Come on!” Jasper yells. “COME ON!”

The thrumming of my heart floods my hearing, and numbness begins to spread from my fingers and toes. My molars grind painfully as I attempt to will away the panic, my palm pressing to my throat.

Jasper is able to knock Cecil onto his back. The whistle is blown, but it does nothing to deter Jasper’s rampage. He follows Cecil to the ground, fists slamming into an already bloody face. Again, and again, and again. Anywhere he can make contact. Cecil’s eyes are closed, arms raised in a futile attempt to protect himself.

Terror is sharp, and sour, and flooding my mouth.

Creed shoots to his feet, but that’s as far as he makes it. He’s white as a ghost, and utterly frozen. Members of the group shout at Jasper, but no one intervenes. No one steps forward.

Why is no one stopping him?

Fear and self-control are at war, tearing me in two. Blackness clouds the edges of my vision, rolling in like a storm. I want to look anywhere else, but I can’t tear my eyes away. Blood coats Cecil’s face, and I squeeze my eyes shut, unable to bear it. When my eyes open again, a new image flits before my eyes. That man, covered in blood, lying on top of me as I try to free myself from his weight.

The past and present rapidly switch before my eyes until I don’t know which is real. The despair in my gut crawls up my throat, its nails sinking in, unwavering in its ascent.

I fight, and I fight, but I’m losing. My chest burns, my head throbs.

As I slip out of consciousness, my lips part on their own volition. Air crowds my lungs, but it's too much, too fast.

I don’t want to hurt anyone. But I can’t stop it. I can’t.

Ican’t.

My senses implode.