Page 79 of If You Fight

His face twisted into a painful grimace and then he looked down at Justin and mumbled, “You beat him unconscious. Look at him. We have to get him to a hospital now!”

I shook my head in disbelief and stared down at Justin as he lay there completely motionless. He’d be fine. This was just a fight like all my fights were. Bare knuckle fighting with some blood and a whole lot of pain, but nothing more. He’d be damn sore for a few days, maybe weeks, but then he’d be okay. They always were.

“No. No way,” I stammered out as the realization that Justin’s chest had barely moved in the entire time I’d stood there.

“What the fuck are we going to do?” Nate mumbled.

Floyd began rambling on about the police and it wouldn’t just be me that got charged because they were all involved with the fight, but all I could do was stare down at Justin’s broken body with its bloody and busted face.

“No fucking way am I going to jail because this animal beat someone into a fucking coma,” one of Nate’s guys said.

“Nobody’s going to jail or anywhere else,” Floyd said as coolly as if he’d just told us to lock up on our way out. “We need to be smart about this, and I know someone who can help.”

Nate slowly nodded. “Do what you have to. We’ll take care of Justin.”

“Ryder, come with me,” Floyd said as he motioned for me to follow him back to the changing room.

Unsure my feet could even move, I nodded and did as he ordered. When I sat down on that same wooden bench from earlier, I looked up and saw he was on the phone talking to someone.

There was only one person in our world who could help now.

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