Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 150968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 755(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 150968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 755(@200wpm)___ 604(@250wpm)___ 503(@300wpm)
I know I fight good. I’m six foot two and still growing, and I weigh almost 190 pounds. I’m taller and bigger than most guys my age. No, I’m taller and bigger than most adult men.
The crowd parts for me, and the roars grow louder, like thunder to my ears. The sound vibrates through my chest, and I feel it with each intake of breath.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
I don’t belong here, but it’s the only place where I feel alive. They say that pain is how our body tells us that something is wrong. But for me, physical pain reminds me that I’m not dead. I’m chasing something that I know is wrong: a compulsion that’s pulling me down a reckless path— but it feels so right.
I step into the middle of the fighting pit, waiting for my opponent. I’ve never lost a fight in the three weeks I’ve been here. I ignore the way the girls fan themselves as I take off my shirt. I’m not here for that.
A tall, bulky black man joins me in the center and the crowd goes crazy. We’re about the same height, but while I’m lean with muscles, this man is huge. I hear the bell, and then he’s lunging for me. My brain shuts down, and my body surges forward on its own.
We move in circles around each other, and I allow him to hit me twice before I jab my fist into his ribs. He grunts and his dark glare is sharp.
I ignore the roar of the audience.
I allow the fear, the anger at being separated from Naomi, and the unfairness of my existence fuel me. Violence surges through me, a blazing inferno. I let it all out and onto my opponent. His fist jams into my face, and pain explodes through my skull.
The agony keeps me going.
My muscles are tense, adrenaline coursing through my veins.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
My opponent is relentless in his assault, but so am I. The sound of fists making contact with flesh echoes in my ears. He pounces forward, and my gaze zeroes in on his vulnerable neck. Before he can hit me, I’m quick on my feet and circle away from his fists. He twists around, snarling. Without thinking, I jab two fingers into the side of his neck and he doubles over, choking. My knee comes up, slamming into his face. I hear a crack and then he goes down, his body limp.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
His breathing is ragged. He’s not dead. But he won’t be able to move for some time.
My body is hurting everywhere. He got me good. I can barely walk without flinching, and my knuckles are bleeding. But I don’t think anything is broken.
I stalk away from the center, and some of the girls try to reach forward and touch me. But they stop when I direct my glare at them. Their sultry eyes and smiles do nothing for me. I don’t want anyone touching me. I hate it.
Roan hands me a stack of cash and I take it, before limping away from the crowd and the pit. I walk a few blocks away, until my body gives out on me. Moving into another dark alley, I slide down against the rough wall and sit on my ass. The fight has left me completely battered. Fuck.
My head throbs and my body is literally shaking in agony. Every twitch of my muscles has me wincing and sucking in a pained breath.
But it’s nothing compared to the harrowing feeling in my chest, and the absolute misery of my heart. I wonder if Naomi would be scared of this version of me.
Would she hate me?
Does it even matter now…?
She’s gone.
I lost her.
I lost the only family I had. The only family that mattered.
Leaning my head back, I close my eyes. I drift in and out of consciousness. I wonder how much trouble I will get in if I run away from foster care. I hate that place. I hate the feeling of being trapped, where I don’t belong. They’ve already moved me twice since I entered foster care.
Time passes, the hot summer temperature eventually turns into a cool night breeze. I don’t know how long I sit here, but I snap awake when I hear footsteps approaching me. There’s urgency in the sound of the person’s footfall. Whoever it is, is running as if someone is chasing them, and I blink, trying to see in the dark.
My gaze falls on a womanly figure, but I can only see the shape of her body in the shadows. She’s a few feet away from me, leaning against the wall. Her hand flutters to her chest and her breathing is ragged. I can hear it from here. She fumbles with something and then I see a light. She’s using her phone as a flashlight.