Wild Bastard

24

I drive my fists into the punching bag flying off in different directions. One punch. Another one. Now with my foot. I exhale noisily and wipe the sweat from my forehead.

I'm fucking pissed. It's fucking killing me. There's a monster inside me. Black and fierce. I want to kill someone.

"Cash, hi" Red's voice sounds friendly from behind me.

I turn around and bump shoulders with him.

"Hi"

"Are you getting ready for a fight?" Alex nods his head at the other guys.

"Yep"

In the morning Backes called and offered a fight with Mitch. Usually the fights are announced several days in advance. Another fighter was supposed to spar today, but he had to drop out due to circumstances beyond his control. I don't know what the circumstances were, but I didn't mind replacing him. I've been in a bad mood since the night before. I need to get it out and smear it on someone's face. Mitch was the right person to be a live punching bag.

"Why are you here?"

The redhead shrugs his shoulders.

"Do you mind?"

"I don't. Thought you was chasing Reenah again, but this time you decided to honour me with your presence"

"What's up, Matt? You're bullshitting me"

I turn away and smack the hanging leather shell. I know I'm just taking out my irritation on him. But I can't get that fucking savage out of my head. Yesterday, after the bitch ditched me by throwing words in my face about not being "interested" in me, I went to Red's place. He was just there with two chicks. He shared one of them generously and fraternally. Only it didn't help shit.

The girl's hair was a stiff brown. Not as dark as it should have been. Her breasts should fit in the palm of my hand, but they were falling out on different sides. Her waist was wider, her eyes the wrong color, and her skin disgusting. It's all wrong. A cheap surrogate in a pretty wrapper. But who am I kidding? Not a damn thing as pretty as a savage bitch.

"Bitch!" I hiss through my teeth as I turn around and kick the bag with my foot.

I got home in the morning, and when I woke up with a bad head, she was gone. I didn't call. It wasn't in my rules to look for someone. When she comes back, we'll talk. I'll show her a "not interested."

Why the fuck lie if it's far from that? If she wasn't interested, she wouldn't drink with me and share with me what I'm sure she hasn't shared with anyone else. I feel like my own faucet opened yesterday. When I saw Evelyn's scarf, I thought I was going crazy.

I miss my sister. It's been a long time, I should have let go by now. But I don't. I remember everything, every little detail, which over time should have been erased and squeezed out under the weight of new events. My memory, however, is an ugly sadist and won't let me forget. Evelyn was someone who knew how to give herself to others. She did. First to my mother and me, and then... then she started giving to everyone around her when she got hooked on drugs.

Only even then I could not hate and condemn her. Because of my age, I was not thinking straight. It was later that I started to put two and two together, but I didn't blame her. Our father never gave any of us the attention we deserved, so she looked for and found it in other men who drove her home. Seventeen fucking years old. Like Lana. Except while Lana didn't even know how to make scrambled eggs, Evelyn was already teaching me how to fight at that age.

I don't know why I told Reenah all this. She seemed to really want to know. The girl obviously cared about Lana. She was so defensive at the bar. Didn't care that there were five freaks. She went after one of them with a knife. Just like she did to me. Small, but strong and confident. I admired her at that moment.