The next morning, I was up early for no apparent reason. As I walked towards the showers, I discovered how strangely cool it was for a May day like this.

I was showered, dressed, and carrying my bag with my boxing clothes to the gymnasium as I watched the guy who blew the reveille horn walk out of his dorm room with the horn under his arm. I waved, and he waved back.

In the past two months, things had gotten a lot better. I hadn't been ambushed by Erik's friends, hadn't eaten lunch alone, and hadn't really worried about much. My depression was still lingering, that was true, but it wasn't as bad; only on random nights when I couldn't fall asleep and would sit up in bed and worry.

It was when people started to smile at me in the hallway when we made eye-contact that I realized things were alright for the first time since last year.

I was changed and already training on one of the hanging bags by seven; our match was at one. Our coach arrived at about seven thirty, and I don't think anyone else really arrived until at least eight.

I spent all morning practicing, doing the same moves over and over again. It was at about eleven that I watched the guys from the other school come through the door and walk along the outskirts of the gymnasium, into the seldom-used guest locker room. It was usually reserved for girls and female guests who came to watch our big events.

A couple of the guys had already arrived, including Siegfried, Chris and Albrecht. They watched closely as I practiced on the side of the Gym. I only caught glimpses of them between our exercises, but it was like they were mesmerized.

I had practiced as much as I could, to the point of plateauing. I knew all of Edgar's moves and how to combat them, but I was still nervous for the match. Practice can only go so far, and once you're on the ring you have to stand on your own. Your coach can only help as loud as he can yell, and even then its your decision that matters, not his.

You're the fighter in the ring. You know your opponent better than they do.

I held my gloves out for my coach to untie them, and slipped under the ropes of the practice area a few moments later, heading for the locker-room.

I'd still been thinking of what happened with Albrecht the night before in the locker-room, and needed to run some water over my head to try and get it out. Sure, things were starting to get better. Sure, I had people I could turn to for once, but my head still wasn't getting over the bad things that always seemed to happen. I felt like I was biding my time until something caught up with me.

It was as I was rubbing my face with the cool tap water that I heard someone screaming at the top of their lungs, seemingly in considerable pain. I shut the tap off and rubbed my face with one of the hand cloths before walking past the long rows of metal lockers, looking down each aisle to try and find what was going on.

It didn't take long to find; towards the end of the locker-room stood a group of guys relentlessly torturing Torbend, the young 16 year old whom I had been training for the past few months.

I watched for a moment; they were relentlessly slapping him around, shoving him to and fro as one of the taller ones held him off the ground by his compression shorts. He was screaming for them to stop, and I was pretty sure I could see tears running down his face. It didn't take long for the memories of having the shit beaten out of me to flood back, forcing my hand.

"Oh come on now you pussy, whats wrong, can't defend yourself?"

"Let me fucking go!" he screamed.

"Nah, I don't think so. I think we'll hang you up on one of those polls in front of your fancy-ass school, that might teach you a lesson..."

I could feel my blood pressure boiling, my temper fading out of my control more and more. Seeing someone getting beaten for doing nothing pissed me the fuck off, especially when they were up against a group that they had no hope of defending themselves against. And seriously, lifting him up by his shorts? What was this, middle school?

"I didn't do any-"

Before Torbend could finish, there was a sharp punch to his stomach by one of the guys. That was when I stepped in.

I don't know what happened, but I exploded. It was like my patience fucking disappeared and my temper exploded all at once, and I couldn't control myself after that.

I slammed my fist into the metal locker door next to me, and started walking towards them, borderline yelling;

"Now, what gives me the privilege of meeting you four here?"

All five of them, including Torbend, seemed to jump in surprise. They all turned to me, three of their faces going white. The only one who looked less than terrified was the slightly taller one, still driving Torbend's shorts up his ass.

There was quiet for a moment, and I ended it by slamming the side of my fist against the locker again.

"I said, what the fuck are you doing?"

"Fuck off and mind your own business" the taller one responded.

"You my teammate off the ground by his pants is my business, especially when you're fucking guests here" I yelled, maintaining eye contact with the kid. His confidence was starting to wane.

"Now, let him fucking go."

"No, I told you to fuck off" he stammered

I started to walk towards him, and he quickly turned to his friends and tried to get them to go after me

"Guys, get him the fuck out of here"

One of the other three looked between the two hesitantly before looking at me. He walked forward, seemingly scared, and tried to rationalize with me to leave.

"Come on dude, just go..."

I lurched forward and grabbed him by the collar of the shirt and threw him behind me. I didn't even bother to stop and turn around as I stared at the other two whom had been walking towards me hesitantly; they were frozen in place staring at their friend on the ground.

"Fuck... my nose..." the voice behind me quivered.

"Friedrich, I'll be alright, just go" Torbend said. I looked over at him for a moment, watching as he winced in pain as the guy holding onto his shorts tugged up again to try and shut him up.

"Wait, Friedrich? You mean you're the cocksucker that our friend Justus told us about?" he smiled.

I could feel my blood pressure rising.

"Thats right. I'm the cocksucker he told you about. And you'll learn a lot about cocksucking in a minute if you don't let him go" I demanded, pushing the two pale-faced guys away as I stepped towards the tall one.

He jumped, dropping Torbend to the ground as he started to back away, stammering for his friends help.

"Joachim, Franco, what the fuck guys? Come on, help me!"

I looked to the side; though they had helped their friend up, neither of the three were moving forward.

I turned back just as he was trying to slide past me, and grabbed him by the collar of his wife-beater, slamming him up against the locker. He hissed in pain and tried to fight me off, but the more he squirmed the harder I clenched onto him.

"Fuck dude, let me go for fucks sake!"

"I told you you'd learn something about cocksucking if you didn't leave him alone"

"Dude, you're not-"

I slammed the back of his head into the metal locker, and he yelped out in pain.

"Shut. The fuck. Up." I ordered. He stared at me weakly, almost begging to be let go.

I don't know what came over me, but before I knew it I was holding him a foot off the ground by his underwear. He was screaming out in pain as I hiked him up higher and higher, begging me to let him go.

"I didn't mean it, I'm sorry I called you a cocksucker" he said between weeps.

I yanked harder than I ever had.

"You think its funny to do this kind of shit to people who can't defend themselves? How do you feel now?" I whispered into his ear.

"It fuckin hurts" he said, trying to hold onto the back of his own shorts to ease the pain.

"Thats right it fucking hurts. Now you know how he feels."

I yanked again, this time even harder.

"What was your idea again? Hanging someone up on the gates of the school?"

"Please" he yelped out "Please, no, I swear I was just trying to fuck with him."

Suddenly there was a hand on my shoulder; I turned, coming face-to-face with Torbend. He looked worried.

"What?" I questioned

"Just let him go" He said. His voice was shaking, and he seemed in pain.

"I-"

"You've already saved my ass, you don't need to wreck his."

I dropped him to the ground, sighing. I stood there and rubbed the palm of my hand with my thumb as I watched him crawl away, his shorts still half-way up his back. I looked at Torbend worriedly, questioning him;

"How are you feeling?"

"I mean... I just had my pants shoved so far up my ass I could taste the words 'Under Armor', but besides that..."

I laughed, patting him on the back.

"I guess it wasn't as bad as what you were doing to that guy" he joked.

"Come on, lets get out of here" I insisted, ushering him out. As we walked through the doors of the locker room and back out into the gymnasium, I found myself slipping my hands in my pockets.

What the fuck came over me?

I kept trying to figure it out for the remainder of the time before our match. Mid baiting my coach I would suddenly be overcome with memories of the times I'd been ambushed, and could feel the kicks against my ribs and hear the comments they'd made like I was re-living the situation over and over again.

It was at about twelve thirty that someone from the other school stepped up to the practice ring I was in and watched me. It didn't take long for Coach Edgar to notice and drop his gloves, looking at the kid sternly and questioning him.

"Do you need something?"

"Oh, no, just scouting out my opponent. I hear he's pretty good."

"So you're Josef?" I questioned, looking him up and down.

He was about Five nine, relatively built, with short-cut black hair. He talked with a slight lisp, pausing between his sentences for what seemed like an unnaturally long time.

"Mhm."

I extended my glove out for him to bump back. He just stared at it.

"So, I hear you like going after kids smaller than you."

I stared at him. Coach Edgar looked between us confused, but didn't say anything.

"I said, I hear you like going after kids smaller than you."

"What makes you say that?"

"Oh nothing, just a kid coming back to our ring pretty fucked up."

Edgar looked at me.

"You know, I heard the same about one of our guys getting roughed up by some visitors too." I said coldly, looking him up and down.

He stared at me with a face of stone.

"I'm sure, I'm sure"

"Shit happens sometimes."

"Yeah, I've heard. I bet you'd know a lot about getting beaten up."

"Oh? I'm pretty sure I'm undefeated this season."

"I mean in other ways."

"Such as?"

"A little birdie told you that you might be in this fight for more reasons than honor."

"Such as?"

"I mean, far be it for me to tell you what you can and can't be turned onto"

I stepped forward angrily.

"What are you implying?"

"Oh, nothing. Just try not to grab my crotch while we're fighting. I don't want to have to humiliate you in multiple ways tonight."

I went to talk back, but he started to turn and walk away, speaking up once more.

"Oh, and my cousin Erik says 'Hey'. He's excited to see you again someday. Says he has unfinished business."

I gripped the ropes of the practice ring angrily, glaring at the back of his head.

"So long as you don't die of aids before he gets out" he yelled.

I started to slip under the ropes, but Edgar caught me by the back of my shirt, pulling me back into the ring.

"Don't fucking waste your time. You can beat your problems with him out in the ring" he insisted. "He's just trying to psych you out, you know that."

I sighed, watching him disappear into the crowd that was forming around the ring. A few fights had already gone on, mostly the lower weight classes and younger kids whom weren't going to take as much time as the classes like mine. I didn't even watch anyone's fights. I just practiced, practiced, practiced.

Then, the time for the fight came. I sat in the locker-room getting prepped for the fight by my Coach as I watched the clock tick closer and closer to fight time.

"Just remember who you are" he said, tapping my cheek lightly

I smiled, questioning him;

"Who am I again?"

"A god damned great boxer on his way to Olympic Gold"

Off in the distance, I could hear a bell ringing violently, and I watched as Coach ushered me up. He smiled, continuing to talk me up as he firmly tied my gloves on. My heart rate was off the wall before I even walked out of the locker room, and by the time I was sat on the wooden stool in the corner of the room I could practically feel the adrenaline coursing through my veins.

Sitting in the opposing corner was Josef. Contrary to the way I felt, he seemed calm, cool, and collected. He was chatting with someone standing ringside, smiling and laughing, seemingly not taking the impending match seriously.

I idled on him for awhile, rummaging through thoughts and possibilities in effort to try and figure out what his niche was.

Then, as the ref swung under the ropes and walked to the middle of the ring, it dawned on me; he was playing the same game a lot of others played against me. He wanted to come off smooth and confident, like he was the best boxer in the country and I was just some young first-timer he needed to get rid of on his way up the bracket.

As the ref ushered us to stand up and tap gloves, I watched him carefully. Every little tick about him set off warning flags to me in one way or another; he had a huge, cocky smile on his face, he was still chatting with people ringside as we stood in the middle of the ring, and more.

As the ref had us tap gloves, he smirked, looking straight into my eyes.

Trying to assert dominance? Really kid? I'm not 10, and I'm not scared of looking you in the eyes.

I stared straight back, trying not to change my facial expression. I wanted to come off as reserved, perhaps even uncomfortable. To fake his fake out, I needed to make him think what he was doing was working.

The ref ordered us back to our corners and come out fighting at the sound of the bell.

When the bell rang, we both went at it.

Within a few moments, we were within arms reach of each-other. I took the endurance-fighting style at first; I needed to see what kind of fighter he would end up being. Throw a few baits out, see how he responded, then knock him in the face a few times to piss him off.

My feet carried me around the ring a few times, occasionally trading shots with him, though none ever came into contact with either of us. He wasn't an idiot, that was for sure, and he knew how to block. As I went to bait him, he spoke up through his mouth guard.

"Don't worry Friedrich, I'll only treat you as rough as your baby Erik did"

Anger washed over me, and I sent an ill-prepared swing out. He blocked it, and sent a jab straight into my ribs. I backed up, using one glove to block any further shots while I held my side with the other one.

"Fuck" I thought to myself "All he's doing is trying to piss you off. Don't fucking listen to his bullshit."

I re-positioned myself and traded shots with him for another few seconds before the round's bell rung and we returned to our positions. The ref waved to Josef's side; he won the round. The half of the audience on his side roared in applause. My side, which seemed infinitely more deep, simply booed.

"Come on Friedrich, don't let him get to you" my coach said into my ear as he poured water into my mouth.

"I know, I know" I responded, moving my head as he wiped the sweat from my brow. I looked through the crowd trying to find someone I recognized, but couldn't.

Where were the guys?

The ref waved, and we both rose back up, getting into position before the bell rang and the next round began.

Remember; he's trying to bullshit you, so bullshit him back. Just fucking tire him out and then let him win a round or two here and there, then knock him on his fucking ass and beat him until he can't wake up anymore

I spent the next few rounds trying to keep my stamina up, seemingly running around the ring as Josef chased me, trying to send jab after jab at me. The few times he actually got close enough, I blocked his shots, except for a shot here and there that I purposely let him slide in. I needed to fake him out, otherwise this was going to be a lot longer than it needed to be.

It was during the time between Round 4 and Round 5 that my coach started getting worried.

"I trust whatever you're doing Friedrich, but you're scaring me" Edgar remarked. I just smiled back, watching Josef on the other side.

He was already celebrating like he had won, but he looked tired. I'd been running around with him for the past twenty minutes, and I'd only sent out one jab for every six of his. He'd already presented a decent amount of his tricks, and I had just finished setting up my long-game. Now was the time to really convince him. I was trying my best to look as tired as I possibly could, and continually running around seemed to help.

The ref waved and I got into position, staring at Josef across from me. His chest was puffed out, he stood rocking side-to-side in a confidence filled manner, and he had this disgustingly hideous shit-eating grin on his face.

Man, I was really building his confidence up. Shame if something were to happen to it...

The bell rang, and we were back at it again. I kept my long-game going, dancing around him smoothly every step of the way through the round. He send jab after jab towards me, but I kept ducking and dodging out of the way, waiting for the perfect opportunity for him to get a good shot on me so I could look like I was really hurting. I'd even be willing to fall to the ground on purpose and lose one of my points in order to really fuck with him.

We were within 30 seconds of ending the round when I saw my opportunity. He was breathing heavily and sweating profusely, trying to keep up with me. That annoying confidence had slipped from his eye and he was starting to lose it.

That's when I opened myself up for the strike. I sent a strike that was poorly aimed, and he smiled mid-way through my swing, sending a glove launching towards my fist. It hit me square in the mouth and I let my balance go, falling to the ground.

There was a huge cry of cheer from his side of the ring as I collapsed to the ground and my head hit the floor. From where I lay, I could see Siegfried, Albrecht, and the other guys had pushed their way up to ringside and were all collectively shocked that I'd just been knocked down.

The bell rang and the ref threw the points to Josef, who seemed to be cheering for himself.

It wasn't until I started to stand up and winked right at Siegfried that it seemed to dawn on him what I was doing. His face changed from one of confusion and worry to that face someone has when something suddenly dawns on them that they've been missing for awhile, and I watched as he quickly started talking to the other guys. I retreated to my wooden stool and let my coach wipe the blood from my lower lip as he tried to contain his panic attack

"Friedrich, whats going on?" he stammered.

"I know what I'm doing, Coach, just let me do it."

He was quiet for awhile, but as the ref waved us in, he said "Alright, fine, just don't fall over again!"

Josef came into the ring and had this devilish grin on his face; the confidence seemed to be realistic this time, he wasn't puffing his chest out and wasn't fucking around and chatting with others. He seemed to actually be convinced he was on the up and I was just a round or two away from being knocked out.

The bell rang, and we were at it again. I watched and waited, letting him send a few jabs in and sending a few out, waiting for him to fall for my bait again. He showed all of the signs of a fighter that had used all of his stamina following me around the ring.

Coach was right, he probably was stupid.

Then, the opportunity opened itself. He threw a swing and I was able to dart out of the way, and while his arm was still mid-air I switched personalities.

Before he was able to react, I had a fist in the air screaming towards his face. I threw it with all of my strength and before he knew it, I could practically feel my fist hit his face through the glove, and I watched as he practically spun in a circle before landing on the ground back-first.

I stepped closer to him and stood over him, smiling as the blood continued to drip off of my lower lip and onto his white wife beater with his school's insignia in the middle of it. I let a wide smile break across my face as the ref slammed his hand against the ground counting down. Josef was able to right himself just as the Ref was about to finish his countdown.

The next thirty seconds went pretty quickly, and I built the fight up for yet another knock-down. He kept sending tired, poorly aimed jabs at me, and though from time to time I'd purposely let him hit me, he got nothing strong enough to do any serious damage out on me.

I was fucking moving around him like lighting, continually sending jabs against his sides and back to piss him off as he tried to keep up with me. I hadn't wasted my stamina in the first eight rounds and now that he was tired out, I could afford to use some to try and open him up to more knockdown blows again.

Before I could set him up for a good knockout, the ref blew his whistle and we both returned to our wooden stools. Edgar smiled, patting me on the shoulder as he squeezed water into my mouth from the bottle.

Across the ring, Josef's coach seemed to be screaming at him. I felt some patting my leg and looked down at the side to find Siegfried. He was trying to say something but over all of the noise in the ring, I couldn't hear him.

The ref ushered us up, and I rose. Josef looked fucking pissed, but I kept to my reserved look.

Acting scared and tired wouldn't work now. I had to be super aggressive and knock him out as fast as possible before he got the chance to catch his breath.

The bell rang and the ref backed out; I tried my best to dance around him for the first minute of the match again, but it wasn't working as well as it had before. He'd started to catch on, so I moved closer and traded jabs with him, trying to bait him into making a mistake so I could send something into his ribs and give him a good punching before I knocked him out in the next few rounds.

We traded blows a few more times before he made a swing that opened up a perfect counter-jab from me. I was mid-swing towards his ribs when I was surprised by a blow straight into my crotch.

I hunched over, the crowd yelling "boos" as the ref jumped forward yelling fowl towards Josef.

He tried to defend himself, claiming he didn't just hit me in the crotch, but me being hunched over and stooping back to my stool gave it away.

All I really heard from that conversation was the referee screaming "One more like that and your ass is out, got it boy?"

The ref gave an extra minute between the rounds and deducted a few of Josef's points for that foul, but as I looked across the ring he had that shit-eating grin on his face, and it fucking pissed me off.

I rose before the ref waved us in, and by the time the bell rang my adrenaline was racing faster than it had in a long, long time.

I moved quickly around him, trading jab for jab, bait for bait. Half-way through the round, he started to give way in his quality, and the opportunity presented itself for another jab. I was mid-way through swing when he caught me by surprise and landed a glove right against my stomach, knocking me over.

"Fuck" I thought to myself "How the fuck is he faking me out?"

I rose up a few moments later, steadying my pace. I needed to actually fuck with this guy to get him to open himself up enough for me to land a knockout blow. We moved around the ring for another few trades before he landed a glove square into the side of my ribs again. It didn't take the wind out of me, but it dawned upon me that I should act like it did.

As I stood there against the ropes hunched over, he moved in, and mid-swing I ducked under his arm. I could see the realization on his face that he'd made a mistake as I sent a swing straight into his stomach and upward at the last minute, my fist practically piercing through the hard leather glove and into his stomach itself.

He hunched over against the ropes, and I started to wail on him. I sent hit after hit against every part of his body above his waistline, from his stomach to his ribs, his chest to his face. All he could do was hold his gloves up and try to prevent me from breaking his nose.

The ref got between he and I and gave him a moment to stabilize himself, but he didn't look good. There was blood pouring from his nose and his lower lip, seemingly going all over the place. He was breathing heavily and as the bell rang once more, I launched myself forward. I needed to knock him out now before he could take a break.

I gave him the opportunity to trade a few blows with me to see how much strength he had left.

It wasn't much.

Before I knew it, there wasn't much time left on the clock, and I decided to go full force. I pressed myself forward and sent jab after jab into him, and though he was able to stop the first few from hitting, he couldn't keep up. He was walking backwards trying to get away from me as I wailed on his head, sweat pouring from my head and down across my body as I sent glove after glove against his body.

He wasn't defending anything else but his face, and I saw the opportunity to knock the wind right out of him. I smiled at him, maintaining eye contact as I launched a fist straight into his lower abdomen once again, knocking him into the ropes of the ring. He started to slouch down, and I could see Siegfried and Albrecht standing rightside right behind him. They were fucking screaming.

It was then that I realized the entire audience was screaming, including some of the guys on Josef's side. I looked around; the ref was watching carefully, but wasn't moving forward to try and separate us yet. Coach Edgar was screaming and practically jumping up and down trying to get me to take a final swing.

I looked down at Josef and watched the blood pooling from all sorts of different places across his face, his left eye already starting to swell shut. I sort of felt bad, and was tempted to back away and give him the chance to fight another round or throw in the towel.

That is, I would have, had a familiar voice not screamed so loud through the audience that they caught my attention.

I looked down and past Josef, who was slowly slipping down the ropes, to see Siegfried and Albrecht fucking screaming at the top of their lungs.

"Come on Friedrich!"

"Knock him the FUCK OUT!" Siegfried screamed. His face seemed so fucking joyful that it was intoxicating. I just couldn't let him down, could I?

Albrecht stood by, seemingly out of it, though he gave me a smile and nodded. I mean, he was the Crown Prince after all... Its my duty to make him happy, isn't it?

I smiled at the two, then looked back at Josef. He was struggling to get back up on his feet and was using his gloves to brace himself up.

"Who's being treated rough now, Josef?" I practically screamed at him. He didn't look up at me.

I practically wound my glove up before launching it into his face. It didn't really feel like I had put any effort into it at all, almost like my glove was being guided by an outside force.

I must have put a lot of strength into it, though, because I watched as he was practically launched off of the ropes and his head slammed into the ground, his mouth-guard falling out of his mouth and white specks landing around it.

The crowd went fucking wild, and I watched as the ref slammed his hand into the mat next to Josef. He wasn't moving.

Before the ref could finish, Josef's coach threw the towel into the ring. The ref grabbed my wrist and threw it in the air as Josef' coach ran into the ring to pull him out and take him away.

I watched as a bunch of guys rushed onto the ring and surrounded me, my coach wrapping his arm around my side and holding my arm up in the air again like the ref did. Before I knew it, Albrecht was standing in front of me with a bottle of whiskey, practically funneling the shit down my throat. I took a few gulps before pushing the bottle off, getting somewhat doused in the stuff, and handing it back to Albrecht.

I don't really remember what else happened that night, outside of the fact that I slept like a fuckin' baby.