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“I'm in so much pain, boss.” He whimpers like a child, infuriating me even more.
Thirteen-year-old me was a lot braver than this scumbag. I’m pissed at him right now because everything he does is a reminder of how and why I am what I am today.
I can perceive that Gabriel is trying to catch my eyes again, probably to try and pacify my anger, but I'm just too pissed off. Burns has gotten the message to never mess with me ever again, but I'm acting based on the flashes of my past. The more images I see in my head, the angrier I become.
“Please, Mr. Smith. I'm in pain.” From the sound of his voice, it's evident that he is indeed hurting, but I couldn't care less.
“Pain?” My eyes squint with displeasure as I step toward him. In that moment, I hear the newbie say softly, “Uh-oh. He's struck a nerve.”
Eyes blazing red, I strike his face and he staggers a bit before he hits the ground. I grab his broken wrist and a wail escapes him.
“You call this pain?” I say as I twist, enjoying his whimpers and screams. “You have no idea what true pain is like. But I guarantee you…you will.” The slight pause comes as I let go and knock him out with an uppercut to the jaw.
Such a weakling of a man.
I feel the gaze of my men as I stand over his body with my bloody hands. I’m struggling to beat back the images flashing in my head.
As I stand there, the noise from the fight club clouds my mind, taking me back to my first cage fight.
I glance at Sam, the newbie, as he shakes subtly, standing beside the veteran, Gabriel. He looks innocent, but this job isn't for the innocent or the weak. He needs to toughen up.
I stretch out a hand and Gabriel places a white handkerchief in it. Shutting my eyes, I shoot my head up and let out a sigh, suppressing the demons of my past.
I wipe his blood off my face and hands. There is a red stain on part of the collar of my white undershirt. I wipe that too.
“Get him out of my sight,” I spit, directing the instruction at Sam.
“M-me?” he stutters, and I glare at him. I see him shaking as he summons the courage to take a step closer.
If he is going to be one of my men, he must learn to be strong. He must learn our ways.
Sam looks at Gabriel as if to ask what he should do, and the latter nods at him encouragingly. Sam inhales and exhales sharply as he walks over to Burns’ motionless body.
He bends over and pulls the body by the legs, grunting lightly at Burns’ weight. I signal Gabriel, and he immediately renders his assistance in moving the body.
He gets to escape with his life just this once. He knows not to cross my path again. He will disappear into the gutters like they always do.
The drive back to the safe house goes by more slowly than I expected. I hate it, because now I'm stuck with my demons reminding me of everything I've managed to keep in check all this while. I’ve never liked having to fight, but people never seem to understand that just because I’m quiet doesn’t mean I’m the weak link they can so easily disobey or try to hurt when I’m alone.
The fact that I can walk alone should be enough to have them quaking in fear.
As I drive, the battle in my mind is growing stronger. It's like the more I resist, the more impossible it becomes to keep the memories down.
I groan at the pain my resistance is inflicting on me. The same images overlap in my head: my mother, the drugs, the underground fight club. Each time the latter image flashes, it’s accompanied by the noise of the crowd of spectators and gamblers.
With a deep breath, I finally stop fighting and let the memories return as I drift away into the dark corners of my mind.
Two huge men grabbed me by the neck and threw me into the cage. I fell in the dirt and my palm splashed into a puddle of blood. I glanced at my reflection in it and rushed to the bars, struggling against them as a man locked the gate from the outside.
“Since you're so stubborn, Slim Tee says you'll learn the hard way.”
Thirteen-year-old me continued to shake the bars as some men from the crowd hit the cage with grimy hands, laughing at me, a little shrimp who was about to be used for dessert.
The air was thick with sweat, mixed with the smell of blood. Saliva and blood stained the floors, adding to the horrible ambiance of the cage.
“Kill this little fucker!” someone from the crowd shouted as they cheered on my opponent.
I slowly turned and faced the man who seemed to be my imminent doom. He wasn’t huge, about five foot nine maybe. But he had a funny physique. From his waist upward, he was big, with a broad stance. However, from his waist downward, he was slim with thin legs.
