BearI used to love the sound of disbelief—of me proving to all the stupid f*****g haters that I could do something they didn’t think I could. I used to love listening to their mouths hang open wide, and their teeth chatter as they looked at me with fear. I used to love feeling the rush of air being sucked out of a room when I showed them what I was really capable of.
But I don’t love this silence or the way I can hear a cricket chirp in the background. I don’t love how I can hear Sunday screaming out in pain from hundreds of yards away as she is pulled backward by someone I can’t see. I don’t love how Cobra’s body sits at my feet, bleeding out while his club shoots daggers at me.
As far as I was concerned, this wasn’t about winning; this was about survival. After I had taken that hit to
