The Lost City

Devontae Wilson

Prologue:

The metallic taste of blood was prominent in my mouth as my razor sharp teeth ripped away flesh, like a pride of hungry lions devouring their prey.

The sight of those men sexually assaulting my mother seemed to awaken primal instincts within me. After seeing the blood from the two wounded men whom I'd bashed with a baseball bat, my vision turned red as I faced the last man. Everything seemed to move like an instant replay in slow motion. My body was filled with rage and unknown strength allowing me to easily overpower the assailant. I felt like a fighter from Mortal Kombat doing their finishing move. The gentle touch of my mother and her pleas for me to stop brought me back from whatever vacation my mind had taken. I'd wanted to ensure that these men never harmed my mother again, but their pained, ragged breathing let me know they were still alive.

"Leave and never come back. If you so much as think about my mother I won't be this forgiving next time," I told the men in a steely calm voice.

I have never felt so powerful in my life, the way that three man gang scampered from our apartment. The amount of blood that I spilled, the fear in their eyes, how they pleaded for mercy, and it's made me never want to harm another soul.