Yet, here I was, staring down the barrel of a gun, holding it to my own head.
Outside, I was fighting with this man; inside, my own demons clawed to be set free, tearing at the surface with the intent to hurt.
Steel let out a gut wrenching howl, his head snapping back as he charged, one fist raised high, ready to strike. He was so obvious in what his next move was going to be.
The trainer inside me wanted to stop the fight, realign him and adjust his stance, then have him try again.
Dodging his blow, I grabbed the back of his shoulders, and buried my knee into his stomach. His yell was muted as the air was driven from his lungs.
Following with a quick elbow, I jammed it into the back of his head. The deafening crack silenced the onlookers, hushed mouths dropped to the floor.
Steel fell hard. As he pressed himself up, my heel came down and crushed his face. Gripping his nose, blood poured from behind his fingers.
I wanted to step back, let him climb to his feet.
But I didn't.
This wasn't a regulated fight, there were no referees, no one controlling the inside. This was bare-knuckle, dirty underground fighting. So I played by the Macro's rules.
As he rolled to his back, I jumped onto his chest, fists raining down in a heat of brute force. One after the other, all the pent up rage and hatred I've felt over the years was thrown onto this one man.
It felt like I was looking at myself from inside a soundproof box. Trying to stop myself, I screamed as loudly as I could, but heard nothing.
His arms fell limp, body still; and my fists continued to fall. The color red glowed from behind my lids, deafening thuds impinging my ears.
A set of hands fell over my shoulders, gripping tightly. The voice a murmur at first, began to fill my ear. “He's out! He's out! Stop!”
My chest heaved, the painful oxygen filled my lungs like sharp needles. Each rib cracked beneath the pressure, my heart pounding so heavily it radiated through my bones.
Looking up, Cadence stood beside me. Her hands were shaking against my shoulders, eyes gazing down on me as wide as the moon.
Lifting to my feet, I peered down at Steel. The man was now unrecognizable, bloody and battered, already swelling around his eyes and nose. I couldn't believe what had happened.
I lost control, lost sense of myself. I dismissed my rational thoughts to let him up, to let him regain himself. My primal being took over, all my anger was pushed onto him.
Shrugging her off my shoulder, my head hung low and I stormed out of the ring.
Walking swiftly towards the door, a mirror hung on the wall. My reflection caught my eye as I passed by. Droplets of blood spattered my skin, trails ran down my chest, seeping into the seam of my jeans and staining them a rusty color. Bringing my hands up, they were painted in red, the warmth fading to a crusting chill.
Who's the monster here?
Look at me! I'm a reflection of my past.
The image sent a shockwave through my body, chills running down my spine. Glancing around, I spotted a bottle of water on the bar. Wrapping my swollen fingers around the plastic, I poured the cold liquid over my face.
I wanted to clean my flesh, wash the entire world away, and all my memories with it.
That night from two years ago, the phone call that woke my hung over brain, washed over me. The words refilling my ears as if I just heard them for the first time.
“He's gone, Quinn. He's gone.”
Cadence stormed up next to me. “What the hell was that? Were you trying to kill him?” Her hands flew wildly around, the high pitch crashing into my ears.
“Isn't that what your daddy wanted?” My fingers forcefully dragged down over my face, rubbing away the drying blood.
“Quinn, he was out long before I stopped you! What the fuck were you thinking?”
Letting my head fall back, the wet skin now a glistening mix of water and sweat. “I'm not supposed to fight. I shouldn't have even gone in there.” The words soft, falling off my tongue with the weight of a feather. I spoke more to myself, a reminder of what I had just done.