The crowd was wild, deafening me as they cursed and yelled from every direction while I pummeled the man underneath me.
I was straddling him, gripping the top of his head and bringing my fist down on him over and over but my rage only grew insatiable, wanting more. To destroy him completely. I wanted to. So fucking badly.
The bell rang and the referee came to part us. I didn't let up, screaming as I released every bit of the pain that I've been holding onto. Two large men came and interfered, yanking me off my prey's unconscious body.
"I'm not done," I hissed, struggling against their hold on me.
"He is," one of the men replied. "Rein it in or you're out."
Glaring at him, I relented and stopped fighting. They let me go and took care of the man, carrying him out of the ring on a stretcher. The announcer came to the center, declaring me the winner.
I was on a four-win streak tonight and I was still far from being satisfied. I needed to feel something.
I went to my corner, taking my towel from the bucket filled with iced water and wiping off the blood and sweat from my body. One of the errand girls came to my side, holding a mirror with lines of white powder on it. It was an offering from one of the high rollers, a silent way of telling me they were happy and to keep them happy.
I looked up at the balcony where the high rollers were watching and found Viktor's face amongst them. He gave me a wave and I returned it with a nod, accepting the offering and snorting three lines in quick succession.
The drug was potent and had a killer sting to it, jolting my body with a sudden surge of adrenaline. I've tasted this before whenever Bo didn't have any. Where Bo's was pure as a virgin's pussy, this was fucking sinful as the devil.
I heard they cut the product with meth and viagra, giving the users a mix of speed and excitement. There was also a secret ingredient that gave the product its distinctive kick. Some say it was white chili powder. Others claimed it was simply Adderall. Either way, shit was deadly and I loved it.
My next opponent came to the stage. Guillermo Ruiz, nineteen years old and two-hundred pounds of pure muscle. He was a beast of a boy who had a record of twenty wins and one draw. Needless to say, an intimidating figure. I grinned, giddy with excitement.
I went to the center of the ring, dwarfed by Guillermo's ridiculous build. His arms were probably bigger than my leg and I was undeniably at a physical disadvantage. But what this kid lacked was what I had a shitload of, rage and masochistic tendencies.
I was going to destroy him.
"I'm going to break that pretty face of yours," he threatened.
I licked my lips, my demons growing impatient. "I'm gonna make your asshole tremble with my tongue."
His face soured and I snickered. The bell rang and we bumped fists before backing away from each other. I tightened my hand wraps, watching Guillermo as he jogged in place. He made a few test hits that were easy to block but then made one calculated attack. I crouched to dodge it and swiped at his legs with my foot but he merely jumped back, keeping his steady footing.
The crowd was aggresively loud, waving around their betting tickets in their fists as they urged us to kill each other. I couldn't see far enough through the darkness that covered the abandoned building to identify just how many people were in attendance tonight, the lone light being the one above the ring, but I could tell there were more than the typical number of speculators from the varying voices that was making it difficult for me to focus. It was hard to shut them out when they were banging and shouting all at once.
We circled around the ring, sizing each other up. I threw a punch to taunt him but he didn't bite, watching me carefully. He had studied my previous fights by the way he was moving.
Despite his obvious advantage, he wasn't underestimating me, which was something my other opponents did. They'd taken one look at my skinny ass and laughed their heads off before I ripped their faces into pieces, which was always fun for me.
I hadn't won my fights through sheer strength and only relied on finding patterns in their fighting style and using it to make an opening. Considering this kid had watched all my matches, he probably knew my technique, which wasn't really fighting but merely letting myself get beaten up and throwing lame punches in order to memorize how they moved. But still, I wasn't completely at a loss yet. Even if he'd watch me in a hundred fights, he couldn't begin to prepare for my insanity.
"Stop fuckin' stalling!" Garrett, my so-called promoter, yelled from one side of the ring.
I ignored him. The crook was only interested in the money I was pooling in for him. When it was announced I'd be fighting, bets started pouring in. I wasn't necessarily a regular in this freak show, but once every few months I'd dip my toe in for a bit and I always gave people their money's worth.
"Are we just gonna stand here all night?" I muttered. "Move already."
"You think I'm dumb?" he snarled. "You're a sneaky little bitch."
I laughed. "You think you've seen me fight?" I shook my head, grinning. "Darling, I'm just having fun. I haven't been in a fight for years."
"Yeah? How about you stop fucking around and show me what you can really do then, Barbie."
I shrugged and threw a careless punch. He countered it with a heavy blow to my shoulder, hitting me hard enough to have me stumbling back. I heard a pop and sharp pain exploded from my shoulder.
"Motherfucker," I bit out, clutching my shoulder. "Damn, babe, you got cement for bones or some shit? Jesus."
I gripped my shoulder and yanked it back in place, excruciating pain shooting through every nerve ending in my torso.
"Oh, yeah. That's the stuff," I moaned.
"Freaky bitch," Guillermo muttered before throwing another punch.
I spun around, giggling to piss him off. "Give me a sec. I can't move my arm."
"Hit her! She's open!" a bald headed oaf screamed at Guillermo while he was clinging onto a post.
I smirked as Guillermo charged forward, giving me what I've been waiting for. A thoughtless attack.
He aimed for my head but I easily dodged him and simultaneously delivered a solid hit on his side, immediately following it with a crushing blow from under, landing directly below his jaw and throwing his head back. I quickly turned my body, swinging a leg to the side and hitting him squarely on the left side of his head, knocking him off her feet. The crowd went bat shit crazy.
He seemed shocked, obviously not expecting me to make any aggressive attacks so early but him knowing my style meant I couldn't beat him unless I started fighting.
"See what you made me do?" I bit out, rolling my shoulder and wincing as pain burst from it. "Ugh. I'm bored. Let's finish this."
"Get the fuck up, you useless bitch!" the bald headed oaf screamed again, his face practically turning purple as he leaned on the edge of the ring in an attempt to reach him.
"You're seriously gonna let that asshole talk to you like that?" I asked.
"Shut up," Guillermo bit out as he pushed herself up to his feet.
I waited for him to get his shit together instead of bothering to keep him down.
I wiped the back of my hand over my bleeding brow, the blood gushing out of it caughing a nuisance to my sight. My torso was aching from the hits I'd taken from previous fights but I welcomed the pain.
Guillermo spat blood on the floor, a tooth flying along the spit. Hhe rolled his shoulders as he jogged in place, the crowd cheering when he charged again, catching me off guard and landing a fist on my cheek when he feigned a right hook.
My head was ringing and I could taste blood in my mouth. My demons were rampaging and wanted to retaliate but I shut them down, wanting to prolong this fight, causing them to grow out of control.
I stalked towards him in a slow pace, my feet gently padding on the platform with quiet decadence. He stepped to the side when I came almost at arm's reach and I chuckled inwardly.
"Don't leave me so unsatisfied now, sweetheart," I murmured. "Come on, give me your best." I spread my arms. "Hurt me."
Snarling, he went on the offensive and let out a series of attacks. A blow hit me, and then another, and another, in quick successions coming from different directions.
Blood was splattering from my mouth as my head whipped side to side as I stood there, reveling in the pain as it fueled my rage to the brim. When I sensed him losing momentum and his attacks were getting sloppy, I kicked at his legs.
He was caught off guard and lost his balance. I tackled him to the ground, pushing all my weight onto him and pinning him down. I grabbed a fistful of his hair and aimed my hits between his eyes, my fist moving rapidly and not leaving a second for him to breathe. The cheering of the crowd was piercing my ears and it was only then that I remember we weren't alone.
He managed to kick me off her and I quickly sprung to my feet, panting heavily. Blood was tampering his sight and every time he wiped it off, more would gush from the several cuts I'd inflicted on his forehead. My knuckles were burning, itching to inflict more pain but I waited patiently until he recovered.
"You good there, babe?" I asked, tilting my head.
"Fuck you," he spat back before attacking me again.
Grinning, I met him halfway, letting his attack connect to create an opening for me. Like I predicted, his right knee locked when he threw the punch. It was a small window and I forcibly pushed through it, bearing the pain of his fist bruising my rib as I stomped my foot on his right knee. It popped out of its socket, sticking out from the side of his leg.
I delivered another attack, swinging out my elbow and hitting his ear, following it with two succesive jabs to his head before delivering the finishing blow with a kick. He crumpled to the ground, whimpering and clutching his broken limb. I didn't let up, straddling him and beating his face until it became a gory mess of ripped flesh and blood. When the bell rang, I seized my attacks.
Panting, I placed my palms flat on either side of his head and lean down till we were eye to eye.
"See, now that was me fighting."
I stood, arching my back as I stretched out. I glanced at Garrett.
"I think I'm done now."
I hopped out of the ring and headed to the makeshift locker room. I cleaned my injuries as best as I could and got dressed.
Fishing out a cigarette, I searched my pockets for my lighter and realized some dumbass had stolen it. Sighing, I went to meet up with Garrett outside while he was collecting my winnings from the bookie.
"Hey, you got a light? Somebody stole mine. The security in this place is disgraceful," I muttered.
"Yeah, here," he said, taking out his zippo and tossing it to me without pausing from counting the money.
I lit up my cigarette and looked at the ring where a new pair of were fighting. The woman who had taken my place opposite the man was wearing a bodysuit lingerie as a gimmick to gain more bets and I complained why I didn't get to fight her instead of the hideous humanoids that were thrown in the ring with me.
"Cuz you always end up hitting on them instead of just hitting them if they're pretty looking," Garrett was saying.
I rolled my eyes. "That last one was overkill though. I thought he would have at least been a decent fighter."
"Kid was a rookie with a few easy wins to his name. His promoter probably wanted to bring more attention to him and signed him up against you."
"God, I wanted to rip that fat fuck's bald head off. Did you hear what he was sayin' to that kid?"
He shrugged. "Barry picks up his kids from the streets and spends a shitload of money on fancy trainers. He can treat them like shit as much as he wants."
He finished dividing the money and handed me my half.
"You got seventy-five hundred, fifteen hundred each fight. I split it halfway."
I nodded, stuffing the cash in the inside pocket of my jacket and taking out my phone to check my messages. I grimaced when I read a message from MJ cursing the hell out of me for leaving him on his own on a Saturday.
"I gotta go."
"Come by more often, will ya?" he called after me and I responded with a wave. "Hey, you got my light!"
Ignoring him, I pushed through the crowd and headed for my car. As reward for managing to graduate, Jude had graciously returned my Viper and license with the promise that if I got into another crash, he was going to burn my license and bribe my judge to give me a lengthy sentence.
The kid I'd paid to watch my car was sitting on the hood while talking to a bunch of chicks. He jumped up when he saw me approaching.
"Sup, Red? Great fight tonight," he spluttered out. "I didn't let anyone touch her. See? Not a scratch."
I rolled my eyes and slapped a hundred dollar bill on his palm.
"Thanks, Wally."
His face lit up. "Any time!"
I got in the car and pulled out, heading to the bar in haste and making sure I stayed within the speed limit. The patrons were rowdy when I arrived and I hurriedly slipped my cap on as I jumped into gear. I immediately started taking orders while ignoring MJ cussing at me in Italian.
For the next four hours, I took one order after another and broke up fights and busted out tables in between. By closing time, I was ready to pass out.
"So you gonna tell me or what?" MJ suddenly said as he was arranging the glasses behind the bar while I audited the night's earnings.
"Tell you what?"
"About this." He pulled my cap off and grimaced at the sight of my face. "Jesus, it's worse than I thought."
I grabbed my cap and slipped it back on. "It's nothing."
"You went down to The Pit again, didn't you?"
"Yeah, so?"
"That place is bad news, Red. Plus, Viktor runs it."
"I know. He was there."
He muttered a curse. "Look, I'm not trying to meddle or anything but-"
"But you are," I snapped in annoyance. "Just drop it, M. I'm a big girl, I can handle a few beatings."
"That's not it." He sighed, leaning closer. "You know what they do to the kids who lose, right?"
I stopped moving my pen, clutching it tightly in my fist. "They kill them."
"Pops quit booking for them when he found out about that shit. If he finds out that you're fighting in The Pit, he'll lose his shit."
"He won't find out unless you tell him." I lifted my head to look at him. "Are you?"
He pursed his lips. "I won't but-"
"Then drop it. It's not like I'm doing it every night. I just go there when I need to let off some steam. Besides, those kids knew what they were getting into when they decided to join that place."
"That's the thing, most of them didn't really get to make that decision," he said before taking out the trash.
He always did this whenever he found out I was fighting in The Pit and every time, the relief I'd earned from releasing my restraints would be replaced with unrelenting guilt. I'd indirectly killed five people tonight. Children. The youngest was sixteen and it had been his first fight.
He had been shaking during our fight, visibly fearing for his life. But the fear hadn't been caused by me. No, it was directed at the man standing at his corner, hurling threats and curses at him every time he missed or fell. When it had become clear that he would lose, he had begged me to kill him, saying that he didn't want to go back. I'd ignored him and just accepted another offering from above.
In the moment, my conscience would be shut off and all I cared about was receiving as much pain as possible and unleashing my rage at every blow I made. But the guilt that came with MJ's ritual lectures after every fight would be so damning that I'd fall in an even darker place. That's why I only went once every few months because if I did it more than that, I just might end up killing myself knowing that I was taking part in a murder show starring fucking children.
Pissed off, I decided to leave. When I got home, Jude was sitting in the living room with a glass of scotch in his hand. He rarely drank. He despised alcohol but any time he did relent and grab a bottle, most of the time it was because of me.
I sighed, sitting beside him. He got up and grabbed another glass from the kitchen, fixing me a drink and handing it to me. I took it, downing it in one breath. For a moment, we sat in silence in the dark.
"You reek of blood," he mumbled in a quiet voice. "You went fighting again."
"Yeah." I filled my glass and immediately downed the drink. "I'll wash up before hitting the sack so I don't stain the sheets this time."
"I don't care about the sheets, sweetheart. I care about you," he said, grasping my chin gently and turning my head to face him.
His eyes were dead and empty as he inspected every inch of my battered face.
"Did you break anything?"
"Fractured humerus."
His gaze set on my shoulder before placing his hand on it. I winced when he moved my upper arm slightly.
"What else?"
"A few bruised ribs."
He lifted my shirt, inspecting my torso and pressing on my ribs. I gritted my teeth as pain shot through me.
"Breathing difficulties?"
"None."
"Anything else?"
I shook my head. "Just feel a bit sore, is all."
He bit his lip, looking as if he was struggling to keep his composure.
"How many fights?"
"Five. Ten minutes max each."
His eyes faltered. "You promised the fights would be five minutes at most."
I shrugged. "They were young and slow. I spent more time waiting for them to get up than fighting them."
He let out a breath, dragging a palm down his face before turning away.
"I don't understand why you must punish yourself like this."
"I'm not punishing myself," I murmured, leaning back and letting my eyes close. "I was simply searching for release."
"Did it work?"
I sighed. "Not completely."
I had released all my pain and rage tonight but there was one thing that I couldn't release through beating someone bloody. It was the horrible despair drowning me whenever I ran out of distractions.
I've tried everything to get rid of it. Alcohol. Drugs. Sex. Violence. None of them have worked and this unrelenting despair only grew continuously over the years, leaking out whenever I had my walls down but keeping them up was exhausting and sometimes, I just let it out, hoping that it might finally disappear but it never did.
As we sat here, I felt my despair slowly escape me as one tear fell after another until I was left a sobbing mess. Jude held me, not saying a word and just accepting everything I was selfishly sharing to him.
"How long do I have to live for you, Jude?" I asked.
He let out a breath, holding me tighter. "Just a little bit more, little Angel," he said what he always said every time I asked him that question. "Live for me just a little bit more."