Page 68 of Torment Her (Rebels at Sterling Prep 5)

I've been blindsided, and for a few minutes, I don't stand a chance. No matter what I do, what move I make, I can't get an advantage.

My lip splits, my eye swells, and I'm sure at least one rib cracks as he gets in hit after hit before I manage to take some kind of control back.

Suddenly, the tables flip. With Warren's smug fucking face in my mind, I see red. If that motherfucker is here, then I want him to witness what’s coming his way, because I will catch up with him at some point, and I will fucking end him.

The minutes feel like seconds as we continue to throw punch after punch at each other. The crowd continues to shout and scream for us as the fight goes on and on, both of us fairly evenly matched.

Seeing as it's my second of the night, despite the fact that the first one was a walk in the park, my muscles start to tire and my movements begin to slow although my head screams to continue.

Thankfully, I’m not the only one who starts to tire. I manage to get the upper hand when he makes a rookie mistake. I fly at him, desperately needing to take him to the ground. And I'm just about to when his fist connects with my temple and everything goes black.

I feel myself go down. I wince in pain as I crash against the cold concrete at my feet.

The crowd roars in excitement before everything goes silent. I have no idea if I lie there for thirty seconds or thirty minutes, but at some point, hands grip

me under my arms and I'm dragged away from the ring.

Voices sound out around me. I want to say I recognize them, that they're familiar, but I can't quite get a grasp on reality.

I'm dragged to somewhere quiet before being lifted onto a softer surface.

I want to open my eyes to see who it is looking after me, to discover who the voices belong to, but I can't. I have no idea if that's because they're swollen shut or just because I'm too exhausted, but no matter how hard I try, I can't open them. I can’t move anything.

I'd have thought that not being able to move might make me panic. But in that moment, I don't care. I don't care about anything other than ensuring that I win my next fight and that the bloody body at the other end of my fists belongs to Warren.

Something soft and warm is pressed to my eye as a hot hand slips into mine. Tingles race up my arm and my heart skips a beat that it could be Kenny. But I know it's wishful thinking. She doesn't know I'm here. And even if she did, I doubt she'd care.

She shouldn't care. Not after the way I treated her.

My head falls to the side and I dry heave over the edge of whatever I'm lying on as those mixed images fill my head again. One second, I'm seeing everything I've ever wanted, Kenny lying before me, and the next, I'm him and I'm forcing her to do things she doesn't want to do.

I heave again, but nothing comes up and all that fills my mouth is the coppery taste of blood.

I spit it out before everything goes black once more.

Only this time, I'm not alone.

She's there, sitting on the edge of the bed with a warm cotton ball, cleaning up my cuts and quietly chastising me for my reckless actions.

She tells me everything I want to hear, along with what an idiot I've been.

I cling to it like it's reality, even though deep down, I know it's not.

If I'm lucky, when I wake I'll find Levi or Jay—or both—tending to my wounds with much less care than she would. Reality is, they’ll probably throw a bottle of vodka at me, rip me a new one, and mention a few times how they were right and I was wrong before disappearing to leave me to deal with my own bad decisions.

"Let's get him out of here." I know that voice.

I know. I should know... "Cole?"

"Yeah, you stupid motherfucker. I came to peel you off the fucking floor before you ended up dead. What the fuck were you thinking? You promised us you wouldn't do this again. That the last time was a one-off."

"I lied," I groan as Cole and another take an arm each and begin to guide me from wherever I was resting.

My eyes barely open, but it's enough to let in the stark electric light and make me wish I could go back into the darkness.

My ribs scream as they manhandle me. I want to demand they let me go, but I know that if I do, I'd just end up in a pile on the floor. They're taking more of my weight right now than I want to admit.

The noise of the crowd cheering for another fight that must be happening fills my ears for a few moments before the brisk air of the January night hits me and wakes me up more than before.

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