Page 94 of The Deceptions
Too bad we fell apart as one, too.
They were mine and I was theirs. Temporarily. Our bliss lasted a short while. A moment in time that should have extended longer—possibly forever—but was cut short by the cruel end of a knife and a roaring fire.
I gently rub the reminder of my time with them. The faint scar across my throat and the burns etched onto my face. Some nights when I close my eyes, I can feel it all over again. My gasps for oxygen, begging my lungs to work. My incessant pleas cut off while they silently watch me dying on my knees, begging them to help me.
But they never did.
Every piece of this old building holds something special to me. Or maybe it shouldn’t be so meaningful to me. They hurt me. Betrayed me. So, why must my mind go back to the simpler times?
It’s hard not to look back with fondness on the boys who shaped my childhood and teenage years. The first loves of my life. Then, I remember the night they brutally ended me. Us. Our ending was so reckless. Filled with blood, tears, and death. I was the person they promised to hold close to their chests and keep away from the bad. They were the bad. The worst of the worst.
And I never saw it coming.
They’ve tainted this space with their filth. Their violence and cruelty. Overshadowing the love these walls once saw.
The echoes are just that. Echoes. Nothing more. Nothing special. At least, not anymore.
They can’t mean anything to me. Not now. They’re like the tainted echoes—nothing. A job. Men I have to watch and get close to so I can close this case and move on with my life once and for all.
After they betrayed me, I thought seeing them again would help me move on. Resolve the treachery swirling in my mind. Hell, maybe I could even forgive them for what they did to me. Or at least, get them out of my head. Being here, though. It’s doing nothing but stirring up old feelings, broken trust, and vengeance.
The roar of the crowd taking up every inch of the Coliseum miraculously pulls me from my swirling thoughts. Something that’s been happening a lot since stepping foot in Greenwood. My mind continues to lose itself in what used to be. Instead of living in the now and taking in the people around me.
Blood stains the floors. Old footprints sit in the dirt, scuffed with all the foot traffic. People mingle in the boisterous crowds, throwing their hands in the air as two men viciously fight in the center of the ring, pounding their fists into each other's faces. Blood spurts. Grunts ring out. Cheers fill the space again, echoing off the tall stone walls.
I watch in amazement as Simon talks excitedly into my ear, pointing out the fighters, their names, and who they are to this campus. One is undefeated. The other is, too. So, whoever loses, has to lick their wounds under public scrutiny.
“If they lose,” Simon whistles, shaking his head. “It’s almost worse than turning down a fight.”
“Jesus. You guys are ruthless here,” Jordy comments, watching the fight with a sparkle in his eyes. I’m sure if someone called his name, he’d gladly fight. And with no rules, he could thoroughly mess someone up in one punch.
“What happens if they lose?” I wonder aloud as we slowly make our way toward the ring, as the vicious fight continues.
Simon side-eyes me. “Well, for starters—the shame of it all. Losing in front of these blood-thirsty animals?” he snorts. “These people crave superiority. If they lose, it’s their reputation on the line. They can get called out more and tested against weaker opponents. Plus, you can bet on who you want to win. So, people get mighty upset when their fav loses and costs them money.”
I wrinkle my nose, eyeing the chanting crowd. They go wild when the smaller of the two knocks the bigger one back a few staggering steps. Blood spills from his nose, and he snarls viciously before charging his smaller opponent. The crowd gasps when the smaller opponent lands another punch, knocking the bigger guy to the ground with a loud thud.
“So, if the big guy loses…”
“Like he is right now,” Jordy smirks.
“Yeah, that. His reputation is ruined?”
“Tainted, at best. If there’s one thing you should know about Greenwood, it's that there’s a weird hierarchy here. You have the kings of campus.” He quickly gestures to Mack and Hux lounging at the table, watching the fight. But JJ is nowhere in sight. “And then you have the rest of us peons trying to swim through the chaos.” Simon gets on his toes with a grin, shouting obscenities as the smaller opponent pummels his fists into the bigger one’s face. Over and over again. He's on top of him, MMA style, knocking his brains out through his ears. More blood spurts onto the white mat, and every hit thuds.
"Stop!" yells a familiar voice through the speakers, and a person dressed in black and white stripes jumps into the ring, pulling the man off him. "I said back off!" Hux bellows through the speakers.
Everyone stops dead at the seriousness in his voice. Quieting until nothing can be heard but the slap of the referee’s footsteps on the mat and the grunt of the smaller opponent being dragged off the bigger one.
“Oh, no,” Simon murmurs. “Now, that? That’s worse. He’ll be punished for punching after the fight has been called.” He whistles under his breath.
“Punished? I thought there were barely any rules here?” I grumble, watching the fighters closely as they’re taken out of the ring. One unconscious. One barely walking without stumbling forward.
“Officially, there are none. Unofficially…” he trails off, raising his brows.
Of course. There are unofficial rules here that everyone must follow. An etiquette, I assume.
"That's what you get for crossing me, asshole!" the smaller opponent shouts, spitting blood onto the side as he wobbles down the small set of stairs leading to the ring. "Come after me or my family again..." He lets the threat hang in the air as he drags a finger across his throat. But it falls on deaf ears. The other guy is still out and being dragged off toward a set of double doors on a make-shift stretcher.
