Page 23 of Possession

The guards shout and dance around. Guns are waved in the air.

I’m still frozen, still feeling like I’m outside of this, like it can’t possibly have anything to do with me. I’ve always been shut out, shut away. I’m not the center of anything, so I can’t imagine—

One of the guards storms toward me. His gun points at my head. I recoil, but he grabs me and yanks me up.

Roaring, the fighter hauls Briggs to his feet. The fighter is furious, shaking with rage. His eyes are burning with it. But he controls himself because Briggs is his only leverage for what he wants.

Me.

Somehow, even in the midst of the chaos and danger, a strange layer of protection seems to settle over me. The fighter is the most dangerous man here. Even naked and unarmed, the others fear him and he doesn’t fear them. He’s facing them, standing up to them—for me.

“Jesus, just give him what he wants!” yells the redhaired guard. “Put the kid in the fucking cell!”

I get hustled through the gate, but I don’t fight it. It’s where I want to be. I certainly don’t want to be outside the cell with the guards.

“All right, big guy,” the redhaired guard says, “you got what you wanted. The kid is yours. Let Briggs go.”

The fighter releases Briggs, who flings himself away, scrambling for his dropped gun. He snatches it up and points it at me. I jump back from where I’m standing at the bars.

The fighter lurches toward him but stops at the threat to me.

“Fuck, Briggs,” the redhaired guard says. “Just let it go. It’s done.”

“It’s not fucking done, O’Neil!” Briggs shouts, face twisting with fury. “Fucking animal bit my ear off!”

The redhaired guard, O’Neil, says, “You obviously went in the cell, so I don’t know what the fuck you expected.”

“Does he look like he needs a fucking nurse? I was taking out the extra trash. If he wants to keep the kid as a fucking toy, let him prove that it’ll motivate him to behave.”

“Jesus, Briggs, what—”

Briggs glares at the fighter. “On your knees, animal. Prove you’ll behave, or I shoot the kid in his pretty face.”

The fighter’s chest is heaving, his abdomen contracting hard. His eyes are furious. His fists are clenched.

But he does it. He drops to his knees.

Foolishly, desperately, I hope that’s all it will be, that he’ll be told to get in the cell, that Briggs won’t—

Briggs yanks his baton from his belt, storms toward the fighter, and strikes him hard in the abdomen.

“No!” I shout, bolting for the open gate only to be caught by one of the guards.

The fighter lets out a loud huff at the awful impact, but he doesn’t drop. He growls at Brigg, lip curling.

Briggs sneers, “That’s right, beast, remember what you are. A fucking animal.”

Briggs hits him again with the baton.

“Stop it!” I scream, yanking against the guard’s hold. “Stop!”

O’Neil catches Brigg’s arm before he swings the baton again. “You know the boss doesn’t want him damaged outside the ring. You wanna explain this shit to him?”

Briggs yanks his arm free. Stowing his baton and gun, he stalks a few feet away to snatch up his dropped taser.

“Fine,” Briggs snaps as he returns. “No visible damage.”

With that, he hits the fighter in the back with the taser, making him arch and cry out in pain as the electricity jolts through him.

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