5: fists and bruises

— Sasha

Everyone was shouting and cheering. With every blow to the boy's face, the cheering only continued to grow. I kept punching and punching him until his face began to turn red with blood. Even his blonde hair was now stained with the color red. No longer could I hear the shouts and cheers, all I could hear was the sound of my fist colliding with his face over and over again. It was my mission to make him unrecognizable.

While the crowd liked blood, Mr. Hastings loved it. If I wanted my brothers to stay, I had to beat out every person I went up against—I had to win. Mr. Hastings always told me that the only way I could ever win was if my opponent was dead.

It was the only reason I continued to beat the boy as anger raged deep in my soul at the thought of having my brothers taken from me just when I got them. They couldn't go back to that hell. At least while they were with me, I could protect them from ever having to fight for their lives just like me.

Once I was sure he was done for, I stood up with my fist in the air as his blood was painted on almost every part of my body. Immediately, everyone roared in a cheer. Well, almost everyone... the people that bet against me boo'd and yelled about it not being a fair fight. Mr. Hastings always told me to ignore those people.

The light was dim and it was hard to make out any faces. The only face I could see was Mr. Hastings' as he gave me a curt nod. A few men come over me to and guided me off the ring just as many rushed to the boy's side. I immediately walked past them and over to the restroom so I could clean myself up.

Once I pushed open the beaten door, I closed and locked it behind me. I quickly snatched my stupid gloves off before throwing them down on the floor, and I gripped the sink so hard my bloody knuckles began to turn white. I had to face myself in the mirror, taking in the murderous haze in my eyes.

Turning on the faucet, I washed my hands, watching as the once clear water was now tainted with the deepest shade of red. I continued to rinse my hands with the cold water, staring at myself in the mirror. I was unrecognizable. The person looking back at me was nothing but a monster.

I wondered what Everleigh would think if she saw me now. I wondered what my baby brother would say if saw what I had just done. Every person I fought weighed down

on soul, sinking my heart until it slammed on the floor... broken and shattered. The only thing keeping me afloat was my family and Everleigh.

A tear fell from my eyes before I could stop it. Soon, more tears began to fall until I was full out crying. I had to put my hand over my mouth to cover up any sobs.

All the punches, scratches, beatings in the world hurt less than the loss of myself. I'd die a painful death before ever looking in the mirror and seeing soulless eyes looking back again. I'd do anything to bring back the lives of those who died from my fists. I would give myself to never know what it's like to be a scared little boy standing in front of a mirror, holding back tears, and feeling like the devil.

"Hey, boy! Hurry it up in there!" Mr. Hastings demanded. I quickly wiped away my tears and hurriedly finished getting all the blood off of me just before turning off the faucet and opening the door.

"Here," Mr. Hastings said, throwing a shirt, a pair of gray sweats, socks, and my favorite sneakers at me. I didn't hesitate to put the shirt on and slide the sweats over my shorts. Once my sweats were on and secure, I quickly slid on my socks and put on my shoes.

My abdomen was still very sore, and my knuckles were beginning to swell and bruise. It was going to be an ugly sight tomorrow morning, but it was nothing I wasn't already used to.

"God damn it, boy! Pick up the gloves and hand them here!" Mr. Hastings yelled, pointing at my boxing gloves. I didn't understand half the words he said, but I understood what he was trying to convey.

I bent down to pick up the gloves just before handing them over to Mr. Hastings.

"Here..." he said, placing a wad of cash in my hands. It was the first time he had ever given me money from my fights. He always claimed that taking care of me and my brothers cost every penny I made in fights, but it seemed today was different.

"You made us a huge sum of money today. You defeated one of the best boys just like I knew you would. So, you earned that money. One day, boy, you are going to earn a whole lot of money for not only me but yourself, too. Next fight, I might just become a millionaire," he said, clapping his hands together like a maniac.

A part of me was grateful I could hardly understand him.

We walked back out to the arena. It smelled of blood and sweat. There was splatters of blood all around the outside of the ring. It made me cringe just looking at it. I kept my head low as I followed Mr. Hastings out of the building.

I could feel a pair of eyes burning me with a hateful gaze just before a hand reached out and grabbed me by the shoulder. I turned around abruptly only to see a pair of glaring blue eyes. His brows were furrowed and there was a scowl on his face.

"That was brother!" he yelled.

My shoulders fell at his words. I wanted to apologize, I wanted to plead with him that I never wanted any part of any of this. The only thing that stopped me was Mr. Hastings who started to tug me.

"I can't fight you now, but just wait... wait until you are old enough. I will kill you for what the fuck you did to my brother!" He threatened.

My eyes settled on the stubble growing on his chin. His body was covered in muscles and tattoos. Even despite how tall I was, he towered over me with ease. Everyone I ever fought was always around my age. I never had an encounter with a man like him, and I definitely didn't want to.

"I will fucking end you!" he laughed menacingly, pushing me back. I didn't fall but I did stumble quite a bit.

Mr. Hastings stepped up to the man. "Leave him be, Kyle. He doesn't even know English. Plus, you know the risks of this business," he told him.

Kyle finally looked away from me to glare at Mr. Hastings. I couldn't understand how Mr. Hastings wasn't scared for his life. I was still shaking.

He pointed a finger in Mr. Hastings' face as his scowl grew deeper.

"Walk away," Mr. Hastings advised.

Kyle gave me one last threatening look before turning to the side and spitting right next to me. I watched as he bumped Mr. Hastings shoulder quite harshly and stormed off.

"Let's go," Mr. Hastings said, grabbing me by the arm and dragging me out of the building.

As we walked, I could feel those same eyes on me. When I turned around, I could see Kyle lurking in the shadows with a cigarette at the corner of his lips. He never took his eyes off me even as he brought a lighter up to his cigarette and lit it up.

"Come on, boy!" Mr. Hastings snapped.

I turned back to Mr. Hastings and got into the car. Once I was in, and I closed the door behind me and immediately went to look at Kyle. Just as I glanced at him, I caught his eye again. I could feel the bullets and knives piercing through the air—aiming right at me—with just his gaze. My skin crawled in fear as my heartbeat began to thump vividly in my chest. With just the look in his eyes, he told me he meant every word he said... he was going to kill me.

I turned around to face the front just as Mr. Hastings drove off. With every inch we grew further away from Kyle, the easier it became to breathe.

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