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Crimson fountains. Familiar sickly sweet smell of blood and sweat.
Hands pulling me back, up, lifting my hand in victory.
This is bad. This isn’t lessening my anger; it’s sinking me into bitterness and more pain.
Suck it up, Ash. What other choice do you have?
“You got one more fight,” Johnny says, pulling me to the side. “Do you have one more fight in you?”
“Sure.”
“And can you do this every night of your life? When your bones have been broken more times than you can count, after so many concussions your brain isn’t straight?”
What is he going on about? Is he serious, telling me this stuff right after a fight, still inside the cage?
“Just let me fight,” I say.
“You got potential, kid, and technique. Told ya. You should really be fighting legally.”
I jerk my arm free of his hold. “I’m here to fight now.”
He mutters something and gestures.
The fallen fighter is taken out and the new one brought in.
***
“Here you go.” Johnny pushes a wad of cash into my hand. “Get outta here.”
I fumble with the bills. There isn’t much, but my left eye is closing shut already and my jaw hurts so much I don’t want to talk. Not to mention my whole left side and my back... Fuck.
Blood dribbles down the side of my face. Carl has slapped a Band-Aid over it but I guess it isn’t doing much to stop the bleeding.
Stumbling to a bench, I sink down, clenching the dirty money in my fist. The third fighter that was sent into the cage with me was out to kill me. Maybe the rules weren’t explained to him beforehand? He slammed my head so many times into the floor, Johnny had to pull him off me.
Christ, my head’s killing me. Just what I need.
“Take these painkillers when you get home.” Johnny presses two pills into my hand. “You’ll need them if you want to sleep tonight.”
I look up. “Thanks.”
“Go get some sleep, boy. Go get a job and a girlfriend and don’t come back here.”
“The fuck you say.” I crush the pills in my fist. “I told you I wanna stay.”
“I can’t let you.” He looks regretful. The hell? “I can’t let Jake Devlin’s boy get killed down here.”
“You said no killing.”
“Accidents happen. You’re too young. You got a future. Your dad—”
“Fuck my dad.” I get to my unsteady feet. “He’s an asshole and has no say in this.”
“Don’t talk about your dad that way. I have a say. And I can’t allow you to fight here anymore.”
“What? No.” Panic grips me. I grab his arm. “Johnny, don’t do this. Please.”
“You should be in college, not throwing your life away.”
