The Darkness That Consumes Us

Chapter 13

Marco

     A cold breeze wafts through my open window, the chill of the winter causing my skin to prickle. The steam permeating the air as I make my way out of the bathroom, freshly showered with a towel wrapped around my waist. Walking towards my dresser, I let the towel fall and quickly put on a pair of sweats. Water droplets still glisten on my chest, accentuating the dark swirls of ink marked on my golden skin. 

     Sighing, I slide on a shirt and untuck the silver chain around my neck so it's visible. Heading over to the corner of the room I grab my gym bag and sling it over my shoulder as I exit my apartment.

    It feels like I'm on autopilot as I go down to the lobby, enter the car, and drive all the way to the gym near the underground. I've done this so many times, I could practically drive there with a blindfold on. Maybe not the safest thing to do, but when have I ever cared about that?

    Ripping the door open I make my way over to a secluded punching bag in the corner, without a single glance or word directed at anyone. To anyone I don't know, I generally come off as aloof, uninterested, and cold. That is until you fuck with me, but not many are dumb enough to cause me problems. It's simple really, don't fuck with me and I won't be forced to fuck with you. I never understood why people are just compelled to start shit when there's the option of peace. Cause I'm so qualified in the art of peace-keeping in my line of work.

    Enveloping my fists with hand wrap I quickly position myself in front of the punching bag. Starting off my punches slow and with less impact to warm up I slowly let the physical movement guide me. The chatter and heavy breathing of the people around me slowly fade out. Flashes of a decrepit bunk bed, dirty walls, and a cold bleak room come sporadically almost blinding me. 

    The more the flash-backs come and go the harder I hit the bag. The more I'm aware of my muscles flexing, the ache in my arms, the thin layer of sweat coating my entire frame, and the controlled breaths I let out. I let myself get lost in the motion, I don't know for how long I remain punching the bag. All I know is that by the time a hand comes out of nowhere and lands on my shoulder, my arms feel like they're going to fall off, my fists feel slightly raw, and my breathing is erratic. 

    Turning around quickly I grab the person's hand, slide mine over to their wrist, and pull while still not registering who's in front of me. To lost in the storm of memories raging on in my head.

    "Ow, Fuck! It's me, let go!" I suddenly snap out of it after hearing the almost girly scream and draw my gaze up to see Roman.

    I quickly release him and watch him as he brings his wrist up to his face, rubs it like it was that serious, and pouts. He acts more like a child than actual children do.

   "Sorry," I say with a bored tone, and no emotions splayed on my face.

   "Marco, what the fuck are you doing here?" Rome finally lets go of his injured wrist and looks at me with his brows furrowed in displeasure.

    "Training," I say slowly as if I'm talking to a child. 

    "At-" he brings his phone up to his face and checks,"11: 39 pm? You realize you have a fight in less than half an hour, right? And you've been here for a while based on how sweaty and stinky you are. Seriously, take a fucking shower you smell like a bag of dirty socks."

    Rolling my eyes at his antics, I quickly unwrap my knuckles and shove the tape back into my bag. "I lost track of time, shit I'm gonna be late," I say in exasperation.

   "No, you're not." I hear his voice say from behind me.

   "The hell are you talking about? You realize the underground is like a 30-minute drive?" I say finishing up packing my stuff and turning around. When I do though, I finally understand what Rome was talking about. He has a devilish smirk on his face, mischief dancing in his hazel irises, while he swings his keys around on his index finger.

   "You were saying?" he drawls casually, still swinging the keys around.

    "Just don't kill us, If I'm dying the last thing I see better not be you, fuckface," I say while starting to walk towards the exit, just now realizing how much the gym had cleared out since I arrived.

    Hearing a dramatic gasp behind me and quick footsteps I peer behind my shoulder as Rome reaches my side. 

   "Uno (one), that was very rude of you to say. You know my face is my best feature and anyone would be fucking lucky to see this masterpiece before they depart from this world. Due (two), I am an amazing driver, you know that. Yeah, I may disregard some minor traffic laws and speed a little but-"

    "A little? Motherfucker you normally go 100 miles over the speed limit, you cut people off constantly, and you have a creepy smirk on your face like you enjoy it. You're lucky I trust you enough to get in a car with your impatient ass." I stated while pushing the doors open, frigid air gnawing at my arms. 

    Walking over to Rome's car I quickly open the door and get inside, slamming the door. A second later, Rome gets in.

   "Do you want to get there or not?" he looked over at me in slight irritation.

    "Just don't kill as we won't have a problem," I turn away from him looking out the windows as I feel the car come to life and the engine hum slightly. Warm air slowly seeps into the confined space.

    "Yeah, well dying isn't really in the plan. I mean, the woman of the world would weep if two of the most eligible and delectable bachelors were ripped from this world," I could hear the heavy levels of teasing in his voice. Not to mention, I could practically see the teasing grin on his face despite me facing the window.

    "Oh, and don't fucking slam my door. You don't pay my bills to have that right."

   My jaw ticked but said nothing, not dignifying the comment with a response.

   "Buckle up," and with those words, Rome skidded out of the gym's parking lot and speed off towards the Underground.

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