“You okay?”
“No.”
“Just remember they pay to be here. The contestants and the audience members. We all love this.”
Shaking her head in a slow movement, she looked at me. “How can you enjoy another’s pain?”
I gave a grimace. “I wouldn’t say that I enjoy their pain, but for someone to win there has to be a loser and I want my sister to marry the strongest protector. You get that, right?”
“Even if it means that he’s a violent lunatic?”
I frowned. “He won’t be violent toward her.”
“How do you know for sure?”
“Because if he is, she can divorce him and that would be the most humiliating thing a man could ever experience.”
“To get divorced?”
“Yes. The prestige of winning a wife is enormous and for someone to screw it up and mistreat a woman is unthinkable. A husband is expected to protect and care for his woman. We have so few women that they are considered the most rare and precious thing in our country.”
“Women aren’t things.”
“You know what I mean.”
For two rounds of fighting, we didn’t talk. Devina looked sick but stayed in her seat.
When Wayne jumped up into the air and planted his foot in the other man’s face, blood spurted out and a loud roar of excitement was heard from the audience, who rose to their feet just as Wayne’s opponent fell backward.
We were sitting high up and with no one blocking our view, we could see it all.
“Oh, Mother Nature.” Devina gasped, her eyes fixed on the fight ring where Wayne was waltzing around with a cocky attitude, riling up the audience.
“He’s taunting him.” Devina tucked her sleeves over her hands and pulled the hoodie closer as if she could shield herself from what was happening in the fight ring.
“The audience loves a show and Wayne is popular because he always delivers.” My words were unnecessary since the wild cheers and stamping feet from the audience told that much.
Not far from us a man in a tank top and a leather vest stood cheering with his fist swinging in the air. “Wayne. You’re the fucking champion. Kill the loser.”
Devina’s eyes went from the man to me and in her eyes, I read the question that she didn’t ask. She wanted me to assure her that he wasn’t serious. I looked straight ahead.
When the man on the ground tried to get up with slow and uncoordinated movements, Devina whispered as if she was speaking to him, “Don’t get up.”
The man couldn’t hear her and kept pushing up from the floor.
“I think he suffered a severe concussion.”
“Could be,” I agreed.
“Then he should stay down.”
It was clear Devina didn’t understand the rules of fighting.
The man on the floor made it up on all fours and was trying to lift his knee to find his footing when Wayne planted a solid kick in his ribs that made him groan out in deep pain.
Laughter and boos followed when the man on the floor vomited.
By now Devina’s foot was tapping like she wanted to run away. “Why don’t they stop it? He clearly needs medical treatment.”
