Page 8 of Volatile

“Dad, Tali stole my food.”

Val shakes his head, but he’s interrupted from cursing at me as the trio of terror run through the house. Vasili and Dominik are louder, but Vanya’s son is no less dangerous even though he still has creases on his cheek from his nap. I tilt back, holding my arms out for the least volatile of the trio as I say, “Adrik, come here, I’ll give you a sticker.”

He does that weird toddler thing that makes him look like he’s shit himself as he runs to me. I throw him up in the air, knowing I’m safe from any repercussions with the little get-out-of-jail-free card in my arms. Vlad alone will decimate the population if they upset his grandson, Vanya will make death look like a mercy while Dima follows her. He keeps the other parts of his trio in line as he softly giggles, and Inessa focuses her mothering on the actual children in the room.

“Vasili, Dominik,” she says evenly. “No punching each other, okay?”

Their shoulders sag and they both mumble, “Yeah, ‘kay.”

Both of mybrothers are inside of the warehouse as I take the side entrance to avoid them and go to the changing room. If they see me, they’ll be overbearing and notice that my knee is flaring up. Once I’m behind the safety of the doors, I slip the pills out from my waistband and carefully place them in my mouth before taking my t-shirt off. They’ll lose their shit if they find out I’m fighting when my knee is aching, or that it still aches years later. The longer I take the pills the more it hurts and the more I need them. So, my routine is preventive, take three just before it can fully seize up and I’ll never feel the drill going through it again. But I’m not stupid enough to take them in front of the kids after Verena told her dad that I had special candies.

I go back out in my shorts, not giving a fuck externally that my scarred knee is on show. The star is mangled to fuck with the stitches having to run through it but it’s a sign of power amongst these assholes. A dark head of hair gets my attention and my mood increases. Stasi never comes to watch the fights, she’s too classy for it according to her socialite brain. Her features are all dark and she could ruin any supermodel’s career if she gave a fuck about anything.

Dark hair, dark eyes, and under the fake bullshit she shows everyone I know that’s where the darkest part of her resides.

She takes a seat in the first row and crosses one leg over the other; the sharp point of her heel is dangerous and glitters amongst the violence she’s crowded by. She gives me a fleeting glance as I get in the cage and Vanya remains at her side. The psycho will stop anyone getting close to my girl and she looks even crazier with half of her neck covered in fresh ink that’s scabbed at the edges.

My mind shuts down as euphoria takes over and the twitching in my hands isn’t noticeable as soon as the fight starts. Feeling blood on my skin is calming, it’s like washing off the stains of my own and the fucker in front of me ruins it by adding his spit into the mix as I drive my knee into his face. He attempts to goad me into losing control by cursing my family like I’m not aware of our faults. He fucks up and runs his mouth past the point of which I can block out.

“Weak. It’s why that bastard got taken.”

Only I get to give Viktor shit, and his choice of word is the wrong one to use against me.

I don’t feel anything as my vision darkens and the world ceases to exist. Not the bone giving way under my fist. Or the sound of an arm breaking, preventing a tap to say it’s over. It all fucking stops as Len is called forward in my memory. His sneer is right fucking there in my ear and the harder I drive my fist forward the louder he gets as he repeats the same shit.

Weak bastards

That’s what you all are

Stand up

Do you want to eat?

Stand up

Do you deserve rest?

Stand up

Weak

Pathetic

Stand. Up.

Worthless

Useless

Stand.

Up.

Weak

STAND UP!

The scream rattling from my memories forces me back into my adult body and I straighten up, rolling my shoulders and stretching my neck in all four directions. The crowd’s cheers and excitement fuel me as I go back to my side of the cage and look out at my audience. Right now, I’m a fucking gladiator that they fear and respect, untouchable exactly like he wanted me to be to everyone else. I focus on that rather than being a weak bastard inside, too weak to walk without pills, too weak to get out of bed without them, too weak to stop anyone hurting my family, and too fucking weak to become anything more than comedic relief.

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