His lips curl into a grin, like he’s already got me figured out. And itpisses me off.
The crowd’s buzzing around us, but all I hear is the blood rushing in my ears. Asher yelling at me to stay focused.
Throwing out the next punch, wild, desperate, a little sloppy, but I’m aiming for his left side, and I land a hit. Hard. The fucker flinches, hisses and stumbles backwards. He snarls, coming at me with a left hook that could take my fucking head off if I don’t move.
I dodge it, just barely, and his fist grazes my cheek. The pain’s sharp, but I’m quick, quicker than him. I swing a hard right to his ribs, and I feel a crack beneath my knuckles. He groans, his eyes closing for a micro-second and I fucking hope this is it. That I’ve won.
But no.
He slams a forearm into my chest, and all the oxygen leaves my lungs. Stumbling back, I struggle to stay on my feet. My chest is burning, my vision going fuzzy at the edges. But I don’t stop.
I can’t.
My legs shake, but I dig in, and I meet his next punch head-on. He doesn’t even see me slip my elbow up, cracking it into his jaw with a sickening thud. My knuckles groan in protest, I can already feel the ache I’m going to have for days.
But he stumbles.
I don’t have time to savor it, he’s coming at me again.
Twisting, I duck under him, using my leaner frame to my advantage. His swings are too wide, too powerful. I keep my movements tight, close.
I’m faster.
He’s already pissed, trying to lock me down with that bear of a body, but I see what Asher was talking about. He’s favoring his left side.
The guy lunges, trying to pin me to the ground, and fuck if I’m not already planning for it. I don’t let him get me. Not like this. Stepping back, I throw an uppercut to his chin, and the sound of it is sick. His eyes roll back, and that’s when I know I have to go for it.
Diving in, I drive my shoulder into his chest, while I jab repeatedly at his injured ribs, I knock him off-balance. We both hit the groundhard, and I feel the impact all the way up my spine. I scramble, getting my knee into his stomach to keep him down. I don’t even give him a second to breathe.
One punch to his face. Another. He tries to grab my arm, but I’m already in motion. Another shot, this time to his ribs. I can feel the blood pooling in my knuckles, but I don’t care. Not now.
He’s losing steam. His movements are slowing down, and I see the desperation in his eyes.
It’s almost over.
He’s too fucking tired. He didn’t think I’d last. He didn’t think I could. But I can. And I will.
I rear back, a final blow ready to knock him out cold. And then I slam my fist into the side of his face with everything I’ve got.
His body goes slack, and I push off him, standing up, my body trembling. My chest is heaving, and I’m bleeding, but I did it.
I fucking won one of my first big fights. First of many.
The rushing in my ears is so loud, all I can hear is my heavy breathing. Asher comes running over, one hand in his jacket pocket that tells me he got the money. People start to swarm me, asking me my name, who trained me, when’s my next fight,why’d I lose them all their money?
Asher pushes through the crowd of people and grabs my arm, pulling me towards the exit.
“Challenge!” Rings out across the pit.
“Mickey,” Asher sighs heavily.
A guy, maybe a few years older than us stands in close to the space we just left and if it wasn’t obvious he was talking to us by embarrassingly commanding the floor, he felt the need to point me out.
It’s Frank’s gangbanger cousin. I don’t know his name yet, but I know all the Franks are assholes. The one that goes to our school, and this one is no different.
“Three nights from now. Your fighter vs mine. $300 buy-in. You in?” he says, throwing down his challenge like a gauntlet.
I know I should let Asher speak for me. For some reason that’s how these things work down here. Your hype man, your ‘manager’ handles this for you. But there’s something fucking slimy and gross about this guy. Something sinister that makes me want to crawl out of my skin. Or bury him in a hole so deep no one else has to feel this.
