Page 6 of Fighting the Darkness

I’m sure my mom wouldn’t believe me, but I haven’t liked being stuck in the downward spiral I’ve been in. No one wants to be depressed—of that, I’m one hundred percent sure.

“I really like this jumpsuit. You did a great job picking it out,” my mom tells me, pulling a frown from me.

“I didn’t buy this. I thought you did.”

Mom shakes her head. “No. It was delivered a few weeks ago. I figured you’d ordered it online when I opened it up. Obviously, someone sent you a gift, then. That was nice of them, though they should have left a note or something so you know who to thank.”

Someone sent me the jumpsuit? Who? I don’t talk to anyone anymore—something my mom knows. That’s a bit creepy, but who am I to look a gift horse in the mouth?

“Is David driving you?”

I nod. “Yes. I’m not feeling quite up to driving. Plus, if I end up drinking, I don’t want to get behind the wheel.”

She smiles. “That’s my responsible girl. Whatever you end up doing, have fun. I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks, Mom.” I wave before ducking out the door.

As soon as I close it behind me, David is stepping out of the town car and moving around to the back. He opens the door for me, nodding his head. “Miss Bjorn, it’s nice to see you getting out of the house.”

“Thanks, David. It feels nice.”

David just nods before shutting the door behind me. He’s been working for my parents for years—for at least as long as I can remember. For all I know, he’s been working for them since before Fryer and I were born. He’s about my parents’ age, and he’s always been kind to me. He doesn’t talk much, but I appreciate his presence in the car, regardless.

Nerves are beginning to build within me as he pulls out onto the street. I’ve lived in Westwood for my entire life. It’s all I’ve ever known. My parents took us on vacations to some of the bigger cities and even overseas a handful of times, but Westwood is always where I return to. I can’t imagine living anywhere else. But as we drive down the streets of my hometown, I’m surprised at how much has changed over the last few months.

My favorite diner we used to hang out in during high school seems to have shut down. There are new buildings going up everywhere, and I’ve missed it all. I’ve been so lost in my grief that I’ve missed the changes happening to my city. I don’t know how I feel about it.

“Are you sure this is the correct place?” David asks, pulling me from my thoughts. I glance up at the warehouse, finding nothing to set it apart from the others except for the people loitering outside the door.

I pull up the website again and nod. “Yup, this is the place.”

David glances over his shoulder to meet my eyes. “This doesn’t look like somewhere you want to be, Miss Bjorn.”

“I’ll be fine, David, I promise. Just drop me at the door. I’ll let myself out.”

He huffs but pulls the car forward. “Fine. I’ll park in the lot so we can leave whenever you’re ready. Be careful.”

“I will.” I smile at him before swinging the door open and stepping outside. I can feel eyes on me, and as I turn, I find all eyes on me. Some of them have sneers on their faces as they glance between me and the car that’s currently pulling away.

“Are you lost, little girl?” One of the guys steps forward. He’s tall—so far over six feet that I have to crane my neck to look up at him as he draws closer. He’s dressed in a black-button down shirt and black slacks. His arms are bigger than my head, his dark hair cut close to his head, and he’s covered in tattoos.

I shake my head, straightening my shoulders as I lift my chin. I might not have gotten out much recently, but I still know how to show he doesn’t scare me—and he doesn’t; not really. “No, I’m in the exact place I’m meant to be. I’m here to watch the fights.”

Silence descends over the small crowd that’s gathered outside, and I let my eyes drift to them. There’s a group of three guys all dressed in jeans and t-shirts whose eyes rove over my body. There’s another group of four with two guys and two girls. The girls’ clothes barely cover their tits or ass, but who am I to judge? Each of the guys has an arm thrown over one of them, and they’re wearing workout shorts with t-shirts.

It seems I might have overestimated the dress code here. Oh, well. At least I look hot.

The guy in front of me clears his throat, and I let my gaze return to him once more. When he doesn’t immediately speak, I lift one eyebrow. “Yes?”

I can hear some of the guys snickering, but I keep my attention on the man before me.

“You’ve never been here before.”

“So?” I shrug. “Everyone has a first time, don’t they?”

Realizing how my words could be construed, I flush. The snickers are louder now, but I just keep ignoring them. I shake my head.

“Look, my brother used to fight here, and I want to watch the fights. That’s something I can do, right?”

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