BLEEDING [✔️]

BLEEDING - 6

Sam stepped into an old building through a weary double door, painted golden-black. 

Building wasn't as it seemed from the streets. Music was blasting through speakers. No one could see the dance floor, it's wall to wall people were dancing to the music . Disco light twirled above - casting every shade of the rainbow on all the hyped up bodies. The place reeked of weed, alcohol and cigerette smoke. It was just like any other nightclub, only it was filled with criminals and mafias.

"Devil ! Devil ! Devil !" Crowd cheered as their eyes fell on him.

He ignored them all and walked further inside. A hand draped around his shoulder, his body tensed, he jerked away from the hold and aimed his gun at the stranger.

"Hold your horses, dude." Markus said, throwing his hands up in the air. Sam sighed and holstered his gun.

"Don't do that again." He stated.

"Come on bro, no one, except for me has guts to touch "The Heartless Devil." Markus joked, but Sam seemed to have taken it way to seriously. He stopped dead in his tracks and turned to him.

"Don't" That was it. It was all he spoke but there was something in his voice . A pain behind that lone word. Markus watched, he realised the grief Sam was hiding. He simply nodded and followed him to the ring.

Sam pulled off his black tee revealing his firm chest and abdomen. He was certainly an Adonis among other men who faded in comparison .

A buffed man, around 5'8" tall stood at the other end of the ring. A smirk etched his face indicating at his ignorance. Audience encircled the huge round ring. They moved like a multi-headed beast that shared only one brain and cheered for Sam aka "Devil" 

As soon as he steps in, the fight will be on and when it comes to street fight there's no honour, no code. All that matters is the victory and only one of them gets to walk away or maybe none of them.

"Within minutes, you'll be forgotten." The muscular man smirked and charged. He threw his forearms in offense but Sam slipped to the side, caught his head and rolled him into the floor.

"I like your confidence. Let's see what you got." He replied with an emotionless face.

Sam was on his feet, analysing moves of the muscular man as he rushed towards him. He swung his fist again but before it could hit Sam. He put on a nice left followed by a right cross. Muscular man was taken off guard. Sam grabbed the opportunity and broke his nose with his head. Man groaned in pain. Still holding him by hair, Sam paralyzed his neck with a strike on his neck. Man grunted and plummeted on the hard surface. His face was badly bruised. He tried to stand on his feet, but couldn't.

As a rule, Markus threw a gun  towards Sam. He caught it and pointed straight at the man. His eyes were wide. His face was sunken and haunted as if he'd seen a ghost.

"I expected more. You disappointed me." Sam spoke and executed him infront of the crowd. Scarlet liquid drenched the man's white shirt while gunshot echoed in the massive building.

Without any remorse, Sam got out, exited the building and walked to his car.

As the car engine sung to the lone streets, Sam wished for dawn to arrive soon, for a sky painted with hues of red, orange and yellow.

To him night came like the spell of an evil enchantress, snatching away any hint of warmth left and leaving him to freeze. The brightness of the full moon was a chilled silver beam and shining of the stars was sinister laugh of her followers.

Eventually, car came to halt infront of his house. He glided up the marble stairs and unlocked the door. The house was no warmer than the outside. Window shutters rattled on the outside as the cold night breeze caressed them.

He threw the keys on a circular glass table and climbed up the stairs. He moved inside his room, in the darkness that stole even his own form. He switched on the light,it brightened up but the melancholic mood never left.

At three in the morning, Sam poured the amber liquid in the glass and wrapped his long fingers around it. He raised the glass, feeling the keen burn on his tongue.

He grabbed a framed photograph from the nightstand and brushed it gently with his fingers.

"I couldn't save you."

"I couldn't even save you and it hurts—it hurts—it hurts so much—mom—so much." He repeated the word "hurt" several times, but in that context, it held a lot meaning than usual.

There was a lingering pain underneath.

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