A/N: WARNING: This is a fairly violent and very emotional chapter. There is no swearing or anything, but it has a lot of hate and blood in it.

KORI

Day 4, 11:06 pm

Andy and I were just walking out of the coffee house when I spotted Briggs walking on the sidewalk. I grabbed Andy's arm and started walking faster.

"What?" he asked. "Did I miss something?"

"It's Briggs," I told him.

"You're not afraid of him."

"No, but the X Games officials are only letting me compete if I quit fighting, and no one can trigger my temper like he can. We're best off avoiding him."

"Talon!" Briggs called.

"Crap," I muttered. Maybe someone with more sense would have run away at that point, but I'm not like that. I couldn't run. Some sort of sick egotistic policy of mine wouldn't let me.

"I have a bone to pick with you," he said. Suddenly, without warning, his fist swung and hit my forehead. It hit and I stumbled back. My head pounded.

"Hey!" Andy snapped. "Watch it!"

"You watch it, rookie," Briggs responded. "You're on my list, too."

"Kori, you OK?" Andy asked me, his voice significantly softer.

"I'm good," I replied, sucking in he pain from my throbbing head. Then I looked to Briggs. "You aren't much of a people person, are you?"

He smirked. "Look at yourself, honey. It's no secret that you need to go back to your therapist. Take your boyfriend with you." I smelled beer on his breath.

I gave out a yell as I charged and tackled him to the ground. Then, suddenly, I was thrown into a punching, kicking rage. And I was horrified when I looked at his face, dimly lit by the lightposts, to see my mother's killer.

Seeing the transformation, I yelled again and punched harder. My knee came up and went back down right in between his legs so hard that my knee then hurt from hitting the sidewalk underneath what I'd originally connected with. But I didn't stop there. I did every single kind of damage I could, punching, scratching, and thrashing wishing I had something to stab him with again and again, over and over. I hated him. I hated him. I hated him! Die, I silently willed. Die, die, DIE!

"Die!" I screamed at the top of my lungs. "I'll kill you, I will! Die!" I then yelled similar things in Chinese until my throat burned from screaming so much, but that didn't stop my hands from hitting his face.

I felt a hand on each of my shoulders, trying to pull me off. I shrugged them off, but they persisted. They grabbed me hard and jerked me up, and I threw a fist at the head attached to them.

I was horrified when Andy clutched his nose.

"Aah!"

"Andy!" I shrieked. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" Tears began to fill my eyes. I looked to my mother's killer, but he wasn't there anymore. In his place laid Briggs, so bloody I barely recognized him.

"What have I done?" I whispered, petrified by the terrifying sight of his face.

"Get an ambulance," Andy said. "He's loosing blood fast."

"Did I kill him?" I asked with a quivering lip.

"Get an ambulance!" he shouted. Someone nearby rushed to a payphone and dialed 911.

"Briggs?" I asked. "I'm sorry."

His eyes opened, but the pupils were covered blood-red. It bit my lip to keep from screaming.

His next 4 words were forced, and obviously took tremendous effort. He said them slowly, painfully, yet triumphantly.

"See you next year."

I turned away. I couldn't stand to look at his bloody, mutated face. "I did that," I sobbed into Andy's shoulder as he hugged me.

"It's OK," he assured me. "It's OK."

"What have I done?" I repeated.

"He'll be OK. It's OK."

I looked back to Briggs, wondering how much damage I had caused him. I'd never done anything like this before. Never lost control of myself like this.

I wondered what had driven me this far, then I knew.

"Rage is addictive, you know. I guess it's sorta like a drug. Anger and hatred get you high. They get you high and like any other addiction they hollow you out and tear you down and eat you alive." -K. A. Applegate

I'd been living for so long with rage and hate, and at that moment they exploded out of me. And if I could ever hope to prevent this from happening again, I'd need to leave them behind.

I was willing to.