Tussle

Derick First Person Point Of View

I turned around in shock and there was Troy, completely drunk, stumbling into the room with nearly an empty bottle in his possession. His eyes went very wide when he gained sight of what was occurring.

For a second, time froze, my brain trying to catch up with what Tray must’ve been seeing. His eyes flicked from me to the guy, and his mouth opened in this confused, sloppy grin.

"Dude what the heck are you doing?"

I could totally feel the tension mounting, just waiting to erupt. There was no way I was going to allow anyone to believe this was what it actually was.

I turned around and hit the guy with a swift and firm punch without even considering it.

I punched him in the jaw and he sort of collapsed back against the bed.

"You sick freak," I snapped, my voice much louder than I intended, my words almost trembling with adrenaline.

Seriously, what were you thinking?

The guy stared up at me with this weird pained and shocked expression like he was unable to comprehend what had just happened.

I didn't allow him even a word. I went straight for the door and shot him a look as he was standing there, completely oblivious to what to do.

"Just go, Tray. Seriously, just leave."

He blinked in an effort to process what had occurred and then turned and took off down the corridor without speaking.

My heart was racing, and my fists were clenched. I needed to get out of there pronto. Like, ASAP.

I stormed in and chased after Tray, his stunned expression flashing into my mind.

But you know what? I just needed to ensure Tray wasn’t thinking—honestly, I had no idea what was running through Tray’s mind, but I wasn’t going to take any chances.

I finally reached him as he was tripping down the front steps, completely winded. "Hey Tray, wait!" I yelled out, grabbing his shoulder. He turned around to face me, his face white as a ghost, eyes big and completely spaced out.

"What in the world was that, man?" he muttered, stumbling over his speech. "You—what were you even doing in there?"

My stomach churned, the fear creeping back in. I couldn’t let him get the wrong idea.

"That guy hit on me," I stated, my voice cold, really wanting Tray to believe it.

I wasn't going to let him get away with this nonsense.

Tray blinked a few times, his booze-addled brain attempting to play a game of catch-up. A few seconds later, he nodded, dazed but a whole lot less shaken than he had been previously.

Absolutely. for sure. That's really messed up.

I nodded vehemently and gritted my teeth. “Let's get out of here.”

Tray retreated and took out his phone.

with unsteady hands

"Let's show this guy what's happening," he exclaimed while signaling to the others to come over. A few minutes after this, the other men stormed into the house, fighting to get to the front of the crowd.

l followed them back to the room, my pulse steady, head clear, but my insides felt twisted upin a way couldn't name.

No sooner had they kicked in the door than the

guy barely had time to register what was

happening.

Shawn went first. His punch connected squarely with the guy's jaw, then the rest of them piled in like wolves on prey.

They knocked him to the ground and simply began beating on him, hurling the ugliest insults in his face.

Hey, show this queer respect!

You think you can play with us?

Desperate fagg

The man was on the floor with his face covered.

as best as he could, but whatever.

Tray kicked him hard in the ribs, and he could hear his gasp for air.

Tray was laughing as he kicked him again in the side. I was simply standing by the door and taking everything in.

I should’ve felt something—anger, disgust, pity—anything. But I didn’t. I just stood there, arms crossed, face completely blank, and let it happen.

My heart didnt race. My blood didr't boil. Nothing. I kept my eyes on the guy, curled up on the floor, while the others continued their

assault.

Sound of skin on skin, the terrible noise of boots against ribs—it barely

registered. Imade sure no one saw me standing there, detached, just another

shadow in the corner.

I lingered there for a fleeting sense of emotion.

something to tellme what to do but alll felt was this numbness.

Ugh, that's it, I grumbled to myself.

But they did not hear me, or perhaps did not.

care. There was no use. They were beyond reach.

in their rage, andIwas too far removed from

it all.

After what seemed like an eternity, Rick stood over

The guy, breathless, with ruined hands.

"At last did it!" he exclaimed, wiping his brow.

The others moved back, a few breathless and some smiling like they just scored in a strange game. The man on the ground did not budge whatsoever.

He groaned. weak, barely conscious. Tray stumbled to the door, giving me a glance like aproud smirk.

"You good, D?-" I nodded once.