Oh, the sweet lucrative success....I left tonight with well over 600 bucks. Two hundred especially, for every round won. A grin spanning from ear to ear was plastered onto my face as I triumphantly recounted my money.
If it wasn't for the way I was nursing my arm, you would never tell that I was in a crippling amount of pain. But thanks to my money induced high, my mind was kept off of it. After the match was over, it took me a solid ten minutes to bite through the massive pain and fix the dislocated limb. Even at best, the soreness seems intent on keeping it's promise to linger.
At least I didn't break it. Then, we would have had a serious problem.
I wasn't in the mood to find a taxi, so I pulled out my phone to call Trey for a pick up. Eight of the numbers were already dialed in when an SUV drove up beside me.
Out jumped Mace and his little four man posse.
I've been in more tough situations than I care to count, so it doesn't take as long as a second to put two and two together. Having five guys pull over in front of you -in a dark alley- after you just attempted to strangle one of them, isn't exactly an invitation for comfort. I size up the situation and the facts begin to run through my head.
Five guys....ten hands.....fifty fingers. If I'm going to make it home tonight, at least half of them need to be broken. I made eye contact with Mace, but backed up into a more open area so I wouldn't find myself cornered in. Easier said than done when your in a cramped alley.
"Aye! You know I don't appreciate that little stunt you pulled in the cage." Mace's words made his intention obvious, as he approached me.
"You know what, Mace? You shouldn't be such a sore loser. I only used a regular submission move on you. Don't get angry that it worked." I knew I was adding fuel to an already roaring fire, but at this point I didn't care. There was no escaping what was coming anyway, might as well fight to your fullest while you still can.
Mace and his boys advanced on me, and I stood my ground, ready for anything. The next six minutes could pretty much be summed up in three words: Pain, pain, and more pain. For both sides, of course....
I'd be lying if I said Mace and his guys didn't land a good amount of blows on me. One even pulled out a pocket knife and knicked my shoulder. But, I knocked out one of those idiots, and broke a hand of two others. I knew I wouldn't win, though. Not with my freshly injured arm...
Mace, being the great guy he is, thought it was funny to aim the blunt of his attacks towards my injury. Leave it to him to play dirty.
When Mace and his friends got the idea that I was never going to go down easy, they dropped everything and left. Before hopping into the truck, Mace sneered at me.
"An eye for an eye, Dean." He said with a shrug of his shoulders.
Oh please, don't come at me with that crap Mace.
I grunted and spat on the ground a foot from his feet. It was a weak insult, but it was the only form of disrespect I had the strength for at the moment.
My weight gradually became too much to support and I collapsed.
At least I don't have have a black eye. Going to school with my face as purple as a grape would raise even more suspicion than I was used to there. I think I protected my face more than other....more sensitive places.
A fact I'm really regretting right about now....
I hunched over and spat some blood out on the ground. The warm iron taste was hardly alien to me, but it served as a reminder of the figurative bad blood between Mace and I. A shadow looming over me suddenly raised my alert. It wasn't big enough to be Mace and his goons back for round 2, but still big enough to be at least one person. My head shot up, ready for my second confrontation tonight. What I was greeted with was the very last thing I would have ever expected.
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𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙁𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙚𝙧'𝙨 𝙂𝙞𝙧𝙡
Романтика"I'm fine, I swear." "Everything's good." "I'm okay." The words just slide out anytime people ask her. But in truth, quiet teen Patience Phillips is finally tired of lying....to herself, at least. Tired of the constant abuse, sick of the fear, disgu...