The Dangers Of The Damaged ✔︎

45 ↝ Pig In A Tutu

"But I was so intrigued by your style, boy,
Always been a sucker for a wild boy,
I'm better than this, I know my worth."
Alarm — Anne Marie

I was right. Hunter doesn't need our good luck.

We're more than halfway through the match, the clock ticking down the last three minutes, and Hunter has a one point lead.

The crowd around us is frantic and excited, roaring each of their names. There's a sleek layer of sweat covering my body, from the humidity inside the room and from being packed amidst a fairly large crowd of people. But I don't care. My focus is on the raven haired boy that's pacing around the ring like a tiger assessing it's prey.

Hunter's opponent, same as last time, Max, is wearing a mask this time. It's kind of creepy actually, a red ski mask that only shows his eyes, nose and mouth. I guess it's a part of his 'costume', and at the first match he had to take it off to show the crowd his face.

Max is clearly impatient, I can see it in the way he's moving. He's angry that he's losing. Again.

The two circle each other, fists raised. Hunter is almost unscathed, and he only took a few blows, but Max's nose is bleeding, soaking into the red material of his mask, and Hunter got a few intense hits to his stomach, and I can already see bruises forming.

Max steps forward, lunging his fist towards Hunter's face, the movement clearly frantic and sloppy. He misses when Hunter steps aside and swiftly punches his shoulder, sending Max staggering backwards until his back hits the ropes of the ring.

"Keep fucking going, Hunter!" Leo yells beside me, pumping his fists is the air. Nessa is clutching on to my arm in anticipation, her eyes not leaving the ring.

I glance at the clock. Ten seconds left.

Max steps forward again and lunges, this time
managing to hit Hunter's stomach. My heart drops to my own stomach, panic rising in me as I watch Hunter double over, clutching his abdomen.

Thankfully, Max doesn't go for a second hit, stepping back, jumping on his heels.

Relief floods through me when Hunter straightens up, and I see him glancing at the score board. That hit got Max another point. They're tied now.

If Hunter doesn't land another point, the match will conclude with a tie.

Desperation rises in me, and I'm gritting my teeth, urging him on in my head. I watch Hunter wipe his mouth with the back of his glove, stepping closer to Max again. The sheer animalistic determination, burning ice cold in his grey eyes.

Just by that look, I know he's going to win somehow.

He swings his right hand, and Max ducks, but Hunter is quick to swing with his left hand right after, managing to land a square hit on Max's jaw, sending him nearly flying across the ring just as the buzzer goes off.

Everyone goes wild, and I grab Kye, pulling him into an excited hug as we cheer, clapping for Hunter. The referee lifts Hunter's hand in the air, and I don't miss the way Max glares daggers at him, his chest heaving with anger.

That guy is scary.

I'm relieved when Hunter and Max walk in opposite directions to their respective locker rooms, followed by their trainers. Max looks a little too angry today.