My Past Life – Part 11
"Do you not know me, Peter?" Joe said with a wicked smile twisting his lips. His voice was cold, almost mocking, as if he found my ignorance amusing.
I glared back at him, my breathing heavy from the fight. "No, I do not. And believe me, I do not care to know."
For a brief moment, we stopped fighting. Our fists were still clenched, our bodies tense, but neither of us moved. It was strange—somehow, we were evenly matched in strength, speed, and even intelligence. Every punch I threw, he blocked. Every attack he launched, I dodged or countered. It was like fighting a mirror version of myself, but one filled with malice.
Joe's grin widened, as if he knew something I didn't. "Well, I think you should know me, Peter," he said, his voice dripping with arrogance. "I mean, I'm here only because of you."
Before I could ask what he meant, he suddenly charged at me, his fist flying straight toward my face. I barely had time to react—I crossed both arms in front of me, blocking the punch just in time. His hands were much bigger than mine, his muscles thicker, but I held my ground.
But Joe was fast. Too fast.
Before I could adjust my stance, he spun around and delivered a brutal backward kick straight into my chest. The force sent me flying backward, my body crashing onto the hard ground. Pain should have shot through me—his kick was strong enough to break ribs—but I felt nothing.
Nothing but rage.
My anger was like a fire burning inside me, hotter than any pain. All I could think about was Sarah. All I could see was Joe's smug face, taunting me, threatening everything I cared about.
"Get up, Peter," Joe sneered, cracking his knuckles. "Fight me like you mean to kill me. Unless you want to die."
I didn't hesitate.
In an instant, I was back on my feet, my body moving before my mind could even think. I sprinted toward him, and the moment I was within reach, we exploded into another brutal exchange of punches.
Bam! His fist smashed into my jaw.
Crack! My elbow slammed into his ribs.
Thud! His knee drove into my stomach.
We fought like wild animals, neither of us willing to back down. The pain didn't matter. The exhaustion didn't matter. At that moment, we weren't just students—we were monsters, tearing into each other with everything we had.
It reminded me of the stories I'd read—warriors who fought even when their bodies were broken, even when the whole world was against them. Like Guts from Berserk, who kept swinging his sword no matter how much blood he lost, all for the sake of the one he loved.
That's what this was about.
Sarah.
Somehow, as the fight raged on, I started gaining the upper hand. My punches landed harder. My movements became sharper. Joe was slowing down, his breathing ragged, his blocks weaker.
And then—I saw my chance.
With one final roar, I threw everything I had into a single punch. My whole body twisted into the motion, my fist connecting with Joe's face with a sickening crunch.
Blood sprayed from his mouth. His eyes rolled back.
And then he was flying—his body crashing into a nearby trash bin, his face a mess of red.
I stepped forward, my fists still clenched. My mind was blank except for one thought:
Finish him.
But just as I was about to strike again, a hand grabbed me from behind and yanked me back.
I spun around, ready to fight whoever had interrupted—only to freeze.
Standing in front of me was my principal, his dark face twisted in shock and anger. Behind him were several teachers and a group of senior students, all staring at me like I was some kind of monster.
"Jesus, Peter," the principal said, his deep voice trembling. "Are you a demon?"
He was a tall, powerfully built man, but even he looked shaken.
"How could you do this to your fellow student? Your classmate?" he demanded. "If one of his friends hadn't come to report this, if we hadn't shown up in time—you would have killed him!"
"No, sir," I said, my voice low but firm. "I wouldn't have."
But the principal wasn't listening.
"Teachers, escort him to my office," he barked. Then, turning to the others, he shouted, "And somebody get Mister Joe to the school's mini pharmacy—NOW!"
The teachers didn't touch me—they were too afraid. But they gestured sharply, ordering me to move.
As I walked past Joe, I saw it.
A smile.
Bloody, broken, but still grinning at me like this was all part of his plan.
Like this was just the beginning.
And you know what?
I didn't care.
If fighting Joe, his friends, or even the whole school was what it took to keep Sarah safe—then so be it.
Let them come.
To be continued...