Damon's knuckles that had been littered with bruises due to the hard punches he had delivered, were now fully healed but blood still sticked to Damon like a second skin, almost completely changing the colour of his shirt to red. The funny thing was, none of that blood was his own...not even a single drop. Everything belonged to that giraffe-looking twat that laid his filthy hands on what wasn't his and even dared to challenge him for a fight that he knew he couldn't win.

Such brazenness had never met his eyes in years. He deserved all that he got and more, much more. How dare he?! If it weren't...