As he stares back at me my breath leaves my lungs in a rush and seems that my air isn't going to come back. His red eyes bore into my soul and wake up sentiments that I had buried deep inside me for years now. For 18 years he has been just a misconstrued memory. A sour reminder that I was indeed born. I never would have imagined that I would actually meet him someday; after all, he is supposed to be dead. As I stare back into those deadly, but captivating eyes, I feel my world shift under my feet; I am still wearing the gym clothes I had on when I was training with Mia. They are filled with dirt and dust. 

I feel my self-tremble underneath his stare that runs all over my body. He is my father, my creator, my doom.

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