The Truth Is.

Chapter 2

        ACE

       A warm liquid dripped down my eyebrow, leaking into my eye. I panted, sucking in sharp breaths of frozen air, the cold burned my windpipe, blowing on the fiery hatred swelling in my chest. My vision went red, either from anger or from the blood.

        I swiped the blood from my eyes, and swung wildly at the man in front of me. He wore nothing but a pair of basketball shorts, leaving his body exposed to my attacks. I couldn't judge him much for that, I wore a similar tattered pair, but at least I wrapped my hands, this dumb Fucker didn't. His knuckles cracked, dripping blood, I could see the pink hues of a building bruise.

        His icy blue eyes smirked as he ducked underneath each blow. Don always told me my technique was reckless and stupid. I didn't give a fuck. If my body wasn't aching by the end of a fight then it wasn't worth it, without bruises a fight was nothing more than a petty scrape. Besides, the pain was half the release.

       He got cocky, and lazy with his sidesteps. While attempting to duck to the left, my fingers pinched the loose blonde hair swinging wildly from his scalp. I pulled and lifted my knee at the same time.

        Crunch!

        Screams and cheers roared through the rickety barn. The tables beneath me wobbled with each booming step I took. They'd nailed the legs into the flooring, and yet, it still couldn't handle me pissed. I wasn't heavy, just angry.

        Hands lurched through the ropes, pounding on the rickety tables. I ignored every cheer, scream, and boo. Ragged faces stared at me from a couple of feet below, contorting in excitement. Everyone was waiting for a show, one I had every intention of giving them.

        His nose wiggled when he tried to moving it. Blood spilled through his nostrils, coating his pale lips pink. I cringed at the sight of his disfigured nose. That's gotta hurt like a Bitch.

        "Tap out." I growled, bringing his head closer to mine.

        He groaned, his eyes wincing at the swinging lights above us. They steadied on me, as firm as Iron "You know I won't do that Ace." He mumbled.

        My hand touched the top of his head in approval. "Tough as Iron."

        "Strong as nails." He finished with a heavy sigh, and braced himself.

        Then I grabbed his scalp and brought his face to meet my fists.

        Over.

        And over.

        And over.

        The whistle blew. Hands grabbed my biceps, flinging me backwards against the ropes.

        I wasn't done. My fists itched to beat something. I wanted blood, I needed it. The burning in my chest burst into flames at the match ending. Fuck no.

        Two-hit pressed me against the ropes. His shaggy black hair tickled my eyes, irritating me further. I shoved his long lanky body away from mine. He was taller than me, but he was a bean pole; both the Dawson twins were like that.

        "Cut your damn hair already." I rubbed the itchiness from my eyes. I pulled it away to find it slicked with blood.

        Two-hit brushed the hair from his eye, but it fell back in. He slouched, a side-effect of his abnormal height. "I ain't never cutting this." He shook his hair around to prove his point.

        Clove, the other Dawson twin, hovered over Shanks. He poked at the pale blonde boy's nose. A load groan came from Shanks hauled him over his shoulder. I could almost hear Don telling me off once he saw the boy's bumps and bruises.