Some Scars Never Fade

Chapter Five (E)

*Chris’s point of view*

Friday night was intense and exciting. Nathan, Dylan and I all had fights tonight and we were pumped.

Dressed in my fighting attire, I threw a couple practice punches at Jadyn before we left; he and Haley were coming with us to cheer. Dylan and Nathan came out ready to go and tackled me to the ground.

“Good luck kitten,” Nathan grinned. “Don’t lose.” “You better not lose either,” I told him, “And you either Dylan.”

Dylan rolled his eyes. “I’m taking my anger out on this guy, I ain’t going to lose.” He gave me a meaningful look; this win would be given to him because of his anger towards my dad.

“I know,” I smiled at him and he smiled back.

Haley and Jadyn jerked Dylan up and Nathan and I jumped up behind him. “Let’s go!” Nathan whooped.

We all yelled our approval and followed him out to the van, singing and yelling all the way to the rings.

I grabbed Dylan’s hand and bumped shoulders, doing the same to Nathan before heading to my ring. It was a tradition I took up, bumping shoulders with my fellow fighters before a fight.

This time my opponent, the Prowler, was here before me. I climbed into the ring and took him in while the announcer began to call to the crowd.

He was tall and muscular, balanced. He was shifting his weight slightly, which looked familiar… Where had I seen that before?

He had a hat that shaded his eyes and part of his nose, but that was fine by me. My hoodie shaded my entire face except for my lips. Cracking my knuckles, preparing for the fight, I watched the set of his body.

Though he was shifting weight, he held himself similar to how a wrestler would.

The announcer called our names and rang the bell. We were off.

He didn’t attack immediately. He stayed back, examining my actions as I examined his; he was smart. Too bad he wasn’t as patient as me.

He came in fast, but I was faster. I danced around his outstretched fist and brought my own around to collide with the back of his head.

He recovered quickly and ducked under my next swing, slipping back to his side of the ring.

He came in again with an uppercut. I evaded it but took a blow to the side from the kick he threw at me while I was distracted with his hand.

“Don’t slip,” he whispered. My eyes narrowed; I wasn’t going to be the one slipping. “You know you can’t beat be, why keep trying?” he taunted. I didn’t let his words get to me.

Swinging at him again, I missed his head, but landed a blow to his stomach, twisting to kick the back of his knees. He stumbled and shot his foot out but I evaded his move and brought my knee up into his stomach.