Page 1 of The Breaking Pointe
1
godspeed
COLTON
They say that if you seek revenge, dig two graves.One for them, and one for yourself.It’s ugly, no doubt, but I’m exceptionally prideful.I always plan to be the last man standing, and to push my point further, I’m the last man to give you an explanation.There’s no way to say it without being cliché, so to make it simple, I’ll say it like this: I don’t like to talk.I’m all about action.It’s one of the best qualities I’ve maintained in my career, but it undoubtedly hinders me in my personal life.
I pound the fists of my gloves together, huffing heavily through the mouth guard I’ve been biting down on intensely.I can feel the sweat on my body, running down my skin like I’ve just stepped out of the shower.As I walk toward the center of the ring, Trey lays a firm hand on my back.
“We only got five minutes. Let’s keep it short and sweet, my guy,” he says, patting me and stepping away.
3
I clench my fists as tightly as I can before turning to face my opponent, who is anticipating his next blow.His face tells me everything that I need to know. The man is pissed off beyond any reasonable measure. Rightfully so, because I am about to finish bursting his ego bubble.I’ve been training like an animal for weeks, and I’m not about to embarrass myself in front of hundreds of people. Even though that’s what I’m hoping to make him think is going to happen. It’s my favorite tactic—play dead until the last minute.
We’re set in motion, circling each other.His eyes are soulless.
I let out a deep breath and shake my body loose, chuckling, “The animosity could quite literally slice you with a knife right now, huh?”
My body starts to bounce out of habit as I prepare my body. “Bro, just shut up and fight.Not all that talking shit,” he spits, in a maniacal tone.
Raising my brows briskly whilst shrugging off his com- ment, an onset of energy fuels my insides rapidly.Like an arrow from a bow, I lunge an arm forward, my fist flying through the stuffy, humid air.It collides with his cheekbone, causinghimtostumbleback.I’malreadydominating, but this blow had a little extra kick to it.The man hasbeen repeatedly bouncing back from the floor like a fucking rabbit for the last fifteen minutes, and now I’m starting to wonder if it’s more than resistance.He looks like he ate a tub of protein powder, and the sight before me is almost nightmare-inducing. As if I need more of those.
What started as a loud roar from the crowd quickly turned silent in reaction to the impact.He snaps his head toward me,angrier,ifpossible.He’sflabbergasted,assomewould
say. I, on the other hand, am having a grand time watching him try to piece together what my fists are capable of.
As he re-positions himself, I do the same, watching his nostrils flare wide.He sucks in a wad of breath, taking a swing.Just in time, I duck my head, sending a fist at his torso—but not a great one.Not enough to take him down.
“Colton, three minutes! Let’s go!” Trey urges, clapping his hands.
I take a quick look at him before looking back at the platinum-blond man, who now has blood running downhis lip.Before I know it, I’m met with his fist connecting right into my cheek, making my head bob straight back like a Rock ’em Sock ’em.My body stumbles backward and I shake my head vigorously. I bring my forearm to my face to wipe my cheek, feeling it throb momentarily. I smile at him.
“That’s not very fair.I wasn’t looking,” I say sarcastically. Rightasmywordsexitmymouth,anotherfistimmedi-
ately comes my way.But this time, I’mable to dodge it.
Rounding up all my strength, I curve my arm, preparinga decent right hook and throwing it right at his gut once again.There and then, it’s like all the stamina he had drained entirely. I watch as he flies back, crashing into some people who were watching from his team before hitting the floor of the ring. In a frenzy, some of them try to help him, but he shoves them all off, clearly embarrassed. He seems to be in a daze, standing up at the speed of light to go tumbling right back down again like a limp noodle.I had to laugh, only a little bit. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t comical.
“Kennedy!That’s a win!”The referee grabs my wrist, lifting my arm in triumph as he announces my victory.
Laughing with enthusiasm, I examine all the unfamiliar
faces, happy about my win.Watching everyone grovelover my success in fights is like a drug—and that’s no exaggeration. It never fails to fuel my existence. Moments like these may be the only times I feel anything perpetually close to being admired on a personal level—as if I know any of these people for who they truly are. I don’t, nor will I ever. And that’s the emptiness of it all.
Swiftly, Trey begins to grab my belongings, bombarding me as he grabs one of my arms. Everyone has pretty much started evacuating the arena, their echoing voices leaving with them.It never occurred to me how quickly everyone rushes to leave these things while I try to ride my adrenaline high. It’s the same cycle every time, honestly. I fight, I get high, and then Trey somehow brings me back down from my heightened ego trip.
“I know you gotta be starved after that,” Trey says as we slow our pace, walking down the concrete path to the dressing rooms.
“I’m down for celebrating another victory,” I say, smiling as the words leave my mouth.“But not too late this time, though. I got plans for an early morning run, and Bonnie’s been at home alone for too long today.”
“No worries.Bonnie is like your soulmate, I get it.”He lets out a trickle of laughter, elbowing me.
“Enough. You talk a lot of shit for someone who’s just as violently single as I am. Dogs are a man’s best friend. What if I like my little life with Bonnie, huh?” I wrinkle my brows, questioning him in a lighthearted manner as I wipe my head with a hand towel.
There’s a quaint little Thai restaurant that we always go to after matchesat the HammersteinBallroom.I’ve always
been a fan of it since my mother would bring me to the main parts of Manhattan, and in my opinion, it’s the closest thing to the authentic restaurants back in Staten Island. I prefer everything back in Staten Island, in all honesty. It’s why I stayed there all these years, and even bought my loft there. It’s cultured, and it feels like home.
