The Phoenix

Chapter 1 - Dude, I Couldn't Get Them To Leave For Shit

Dedicated to my friend, KkMillyy23, for making me this awesome cover! Check her out!

Enjoy, my twisties!

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(Carter's POV)

My fists clenched at my sides as I felt the first rush of adrenaline begin to pump through my veins. I heard the announcer greeting the crowd, pumping them up to introduce the fighters. Looking to my right, I had my boy there next to me, Lyle. He is the only dude that I can count on nowadays and he always seems to come through for me.

A little nerdy, but he is still my main man.

I met him three years ago when I first started coming to the gym. He came in with a black eye and busted lip, telling the coach who was training me at the time that he wanted in. He wanted in on whatever it is that was done here.

I knew right off the bat that he only wanted in so he could protect himself or get revenge on whoever did that to his face and from the looks of the way he dressed and acted, he was nothing but a nerd getting bullied.

Part of me felt bad for him at the time and that is initially how we kicked off our friendship, that and Coach ended up training us together and we just sort of clicked from there. He wasn't that good of a fighter and the bullies still picked on him, but I, on the other hand was something my coach has never seen before.

His words, not mine.

I protected Lyle from bullies for a while, until they just stopped altogether when most figured out that I wasn't playing any games. From then on, Lyle and I have been thick as thieves.

"KC, are you focused man?" Lyle asked me, calling me by my nickname. Annoyingly, he waved his lanky hand in front of my face. If anyone else did that it would piss me the fuck off, so far that they wouldn't have that hand attached to their body anymore. But this dude is my best friend. I hardly ever get pissed at him. Well, except that time, I snapped at him and blackened his eye.

Yeah, well, I'm kind of a hothead.

Okay, maybe more than that.

Okay, I am definitely more than that, I have a really bad temper. Little things set me off and I end up doing things I regret, most of the time. Especially when I was younger, I used to get so mad that I would throw around furniture, even going as far as breaking my parents' expensive vases and shit.

But now when I think back on those times with them, I say fuck it. They were shitty parents anyway. They didn't deserve my respect. And they will never gain it back for as long as I live.

"KC?!" Lyle yelled, snapping me out of my thoughts. "What is up with you tonight, bro?" He asked, sweeping his long curly sandy blonde hair from his eyes with one quick jerk of his neck. He had that old Justin Bieber hair flip-down packed. Lyle use to annoy the fuck out of me when he did it, but surprisingly I have gotten used to it over the years.

Shaking my shoulders and arms as I tried loosening up. I nodded, trying to play off my distractions. "Yeah man, why?"

His eyes narrowed in on me. "Because you seem distracted."

"Nah, I'm fine." I chuckled humorlessly. "I just want this fucking announcer to hurry up and introduce the fighters. He's talking slower than the hair growing on my balls right now."

Lyle laughed. "I know, he must be on slow pills tonight."

"Hey man, you coming to the after party tonight?" I asked Lyle, running a hand through my hair to remove it from my eyes. It was getting pretty long, it was almost time for a haircut again.