WARNING!!! I wrote this when I was 12, so please here that in mind as you continue😂🙏
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[COMPLETED]
Life is unpredictable; we can all relate to that. One day you're happy and then something happens and BAM! You're sad or in your element.
I, Kat...
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The light illuminates the bricked wall it sits on and the shadowed figure underneath it, along with the steel doors that reflect the light and I cover my eyes. The rough walls climb up for about six meters until it meets with an aluminium roof and the glass windows are all broken, cracked and chipped.
I approach the familiar warehouse and the guy at the door nods when my face becomes visible in the inky night.
I push the doors open and I am greeted with the usual smell of blood and sweat, tinged with alcohol. The auditorium sits in a dull light; the stage performance blinded with spotlights. The two men in the ring are dripping with sweat; their skin all red, their mouths dry and sticky, and their once swift movements, now slow.
The crowd cheers the names of Fred and Bob and I scan the horde of people for a acquainted bunch of blonde curls when his voice chides, "You're late." I turn around and face my best friend. Yes, I was friends with James longer and I knew him better, but Alex has always been there for me, unlike him. When I needed him most, he ran. When I needed comfort, he contributed cowardice. When I was broken, he left. When I was on my knees, he went in for the final blow.
"At least I made it." I smirk and he smiles, slapping my back and guiding me towards my changing room.
The wandering people stick with sweat and their heavy breathing can't be naturally comfortable.
A girl with sparkling blue eyes that make her caramel hair appear more wavy winks at me and I smirk in reply.
Alex pulls me into my room, avoiding the fact that a hot chick was flirting with me, and shoves me in the direction of my locker that contains my clothing. "Get dressed and finish your fight before you even think of picking up girls. Your boss ain't paying you to be a prostitute." I chuckle at his comment and he grins as he leaves the room.
I remove my clothes and replace my black T-shirt with my bare chest and my black skinny jeans with a black Speedo.
The bell rings three times and the current match is over. I jump from one leg to another as I wait at the entrance and I jog up to the stage when I hear my name.
The lights beat down on me ferociously, sweat already beading along my hair line and down the back of my neck. I patiently wait for my apponent - a fat, bulky bald guy who can hardly hold himself up properly up - and we circle each other when the announcer tells us to fight.
