15. The Fight
15
The Fight
Empty is the only word I can think of to describe how I feel right now. As I lie in bed and listen to the silence floating around the house, I can’t escape the downward spiral. I went to bed at around 3:00 a.m. last night. To my great surprise, Kendrick never came home to lecture me about Haze. He texted me that we’d talk later and that he knows it wasn’t my fault.
He doesn’t suspect that anything happened between Haze and me, and he sees me as an innocent victim.
But I know I’m just as guilty as he is.
Speaking of Mr. Heartbreaker, I haven’t checked my phone since yesterday. I turned it off almost as soon as Haze left because I don’t want to know if he texted me.
But mostly… I don’t want to know if he didn’t .
After several minutes of my brain trying to convince my body to move, I get up from my bed, exit my room, and drag my feet down the stairs.
The fight is today.
The information’s not registering.
I turn on my phone, walk into the kitchen, and yawn. I need coffee. As soon as the screen lights up, notifications come rushing in one after the other, and confusing feelings consume me. I hope that he texted me.
Just so I can tell him to never text me again.
I know, I don’t make sense.
Seven messages await me.
At the exact same time, I receive an incoming call from Alex. They’ve probably been trying to call me for hours. I brush off the guilt weighing on me and pick up.
“Hello?”
“Well, hello, Miss I-Sleep-Until-It’s-Four-P.m. We’ve been trying to reach you.” I recognize Will’s voice.
I gasp and my gaze jumps to the clock on the wall. “It’s not even eleven yet. Stop exaggerating. I’m sorry for not taking your calls. I was exhausted.”
“I assume Haze kept you up all night? You weren’t too loud I hope.” I can literally picture him wiggling his eyebrows like the perverted idiot he is.
I curse. Of course they would know about Haze by now. I’m not surprised that Kendrick told them all about his stunt. The crazy part is, Haze did keep me up all night. But not the way he thinks.
“Give me that,” Alex says in the background.
Muffled voices and shuffling comes down the line. I can’t restrain a smirk from remolding my lips, listening to them fighting over the phone.
These guys.
“Hello, Winter? Sorry about that.” Alex’s voice indicates that he won the war. “Will—” He moves the phone away from his mouth. “Don’t eat that. It’s for my sister’s school.”
“Just a little bit,” Will’s distant voice replies.
I snigger. “What’s going on?”
“Damn it, Blake, can you take that cake away from him, please?”
I laugh.
“You guys are actual kids.”
“Tell me about it.” Alex exhales. “We’ll be there to pick you up in fifteen minutes. Be ready.”
“Wait, what?”
The line goes dead.
I can honestly say I’ve never gone up the stairs faster in my life. I throw on a sweater and a pair of black leggings, pulling my hair up into a messy bun. That’s the best I can do today. I make sure to apply a little bit of makeup so that the numerous hours of sleep I didn’t get last night aren’t the first thing you see when you look at me.
While I wait, I select the other unread text messages I didn’t have time to check yet.
I have one message from my best friend, Allie.
And zero from Haze.
But that’s not what surprises me the most.
What I can’t believe is the messages from the unknown number I completely forgot about until now. They didn’t text me again after I left the hotel. I thought it was merely the result of someone messing with me. Obviously, I was wrong.
The messages were sent yesterday—more precisely right after Haze dropped me off.
Unknown: How ironic that you would push away the only person who cares.
I’m paralyzed, my breathing shallow.
Unknown: Enjoy the time you have left and watch out for the scars.
The scars? What the heck is that supposed to mean? What scars?
I read the messages over and over again, hoping to remember something, anything, about yesterday. Maybe it was a suspicious car parked on the street. Maybe it was someone walking on the sidewalk. It could be anyone, anywhere. All I know is the person behind the unknown number saw it all. They saw Haze and I get into a fight; they saw me bolt out of the car and cry my eyes out like a pathetic mess.
My stalker was here yesterday.
And he might be here right now .
I run to the window and shove the curtains open with one hand. No one except the neighbor. The nice granny who lives on the other side of the street waves at me while she waters her flowers. I wave back. For all I know, she could be the unknown number.
I’m completely paranoid.
When Blake’s car pulls up in the driveway, the inevitable question comes to me. Should I tell the boys about the messages?
They would put the pieces together, understand that something happened between me and Haze, and make my life a living hell… but they might also be the only ones who know what “watch out for the scars” means.
Blake gets out of the car, probably to knock on the door, but I decide to save him the trouble and step outside.
“Come on, we have to go,” he hisses when he sees me.
Immediately, I’m under the impression that Blake is either very angry at me or having an awful day.
“What’s the rush?”
“We have to get you ready for the fight. That’s the rush.”
“What do you mean? I’m not the one fighting.”
“Still, you need to be prepared for all the things you might see tonight.”
“You think I’ve never seen two guys fight?” I arch an eyebrow.
“You haven’t. Not like this, trust me.” He grows impatient. “Are you waiting for the grass to grow?”
Okay, rude .
We walk toward the car side by side, and I frown.
That’s very out of character for Blake. I’ve never seen him in such a bad mood. I get into the passenger seat and buckle up, wondering what his problem is. I watch the vein in his neck throb in anger as he pulls out of the driveway recklessly.
And I thought Haze drove like an idiot.
I mentally slap myself when his name creeps its way into my brain again. It’s only been a day since I fought with him and I can’t stop thinking about him.
Feelings suck.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“I’m sure I’m doing better than you.”
I furrow my eyebrows. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’m guessing getting your heart broken by the town’s bad boy isn’t exactly pleasant.”
He knows.
But how? Kendrick might’ve told him about Haze’s stunt at the dinner, but that doesn’t justify Blake’s knowledge of… everything.
“I showed up at your house yesterday morning. After Kendrick told us about Haze’s surprise visit, I thought I’d come and get it straight from you. I couldn’t believe it. That you’d agree to go with him after everything he did, and well…” He pauses. “I saw him drop you off.”
“I…” I begin, but he interrupts me.
“No need to explain yourself. The sight of you two fighting like a married couple told me everything I needed to know.” His eyes become hard. “You’ve fallen for him. Like they all do.”
I lower my head to my feet. I always knew they’d react this way. That’s why I didn’t want to tell them. Because I knew they’d be the ones to tell me the truth I so desperately feared.
“It was the only way Haze wouldn’t ruin Kendrick’s dinner. I had to go out with him. We made a deal—that’s all it was.” I can’t believe I’m still trying to justify my actions.
“Let me guess, the part when you’re bawling your eyes out in Kass’s arms was also part of the deal?”
“Oh for God’s sake, you saw that, too?”
“I saw enough.”
How long did Blake sit outside the house? He might’ve seen the person behind the unknown number. I battle the urge to ask him if he saw someone suspicious, well aware that now is not the time.
Images of Will walking out of the house in a hurry burn within me. I still have no idea what he forgot that what was so important he had to come and get it at my house when Kendrick wasn’t home. But most of all, who let him in? Maria was already at work, and Kass was still in bed.
“Did you tell them?”
“I didn’t, believe it or not.”
“You didn’t?”
“Nope, because you will. You’re gonna be the one to look your cousin in the eyes and tell him you’re in love with the enemy, the guy whose brother almost killed him. That’s not my mess to clean up.”
He’s right. The hatred settling in his tone feels like a never-ending punch in the chest. I wouldn’t say I’m in love with Haze. I can’t be in love with him. I can’t love someone whose only goal was to use me.
I'm not that stupid, am I?
“I’m not in love with him,” I blurt.
“Oh really? Because your tears told me otherwise, and that fight—”
“That was the last time, I promise. I won’t go anywhere near him ever again. You don’t have to believe everything I say, but you have got to believe that.”
“Yeah, well, you see, even if I wanted to believe you, I couldn’t. No girl is ever truly over Haze Adams. Trust me, I know.”
I refrain from asking him to elaborate. Whatever ulterior motive Blake has for hating Haze’s player ways so much, I don’t want to know. I’ve had enough for the day.
“God, I can’t believe you did that,” he lashes out. “Have a thing for the guy whose brother once strangled you, the guy who, may I remind you, put a target on your back by making a deal that was meant to hurt Kendrick. The ultimate player, Winter.”
He was never that guy with me.
But then again, he was trying to seduce me, so I guess I never really knew the real him.
In that moment, I wish I could deny what he’s saying. I wish I could magically come up with an explanation for all the times I agreed to follow him. For the times I laughed with him to the point of tears and the constant text messages. I’d like to find the words to justify feeling the way I did when he kissed me in that motel room. I wish I could take our moments back, but I can’t.
They happened.
And they were wonderful.
Even if they weren’t real .
“I thought you were smarter than this,” he says quietly.
I can’t bring myself to apologize, wondering what I could possibly say that I haven’t already. Instead, I whisper the three words that sum up the way I feel better than an entire novel ever could.
“So do I.”
“It’s about damn time,” I hear Will say when we walk inside the house. I follow Blake into the living room where all the guys are. Except for one.
“Where’s Kendrick?” I ask.
“He’s upstairs, training. He’ll call us when he’s ready,” Alex says.
I immediately notice Will has a cut on his lower lip. It’s fresh, recent.
“Will, are you okay?”
“Do I look like I’m not?” He chuckles.
“Why is your lip bleeding?”
“Kendrick’s been training, we told you.”
They can’t be serious.
“What the hell? You guys train on each other?”
“Usually not, but Kendrick stopped training during his recovery, so he’s scared that he lost it.” Will shrugs, changing the channels with the remote.
My wandering gaze shifts to Alex and Blake. They seem unbothered by Will’s statement. Like it’s a normal thing for them to beat each other up.
“So basically Kendrick punched you in the face and you’re okay with it?”
“Of course I am. I’m the one who volunteered.”
And this, ladies and gentlemen, is why I’ll never understand men.
I scoff, sit down on the couch and watch Will change the channels continuously. Alex quickly gets sick of it and decides he’s going to take the remote away from him. Will wants to keep it, which results in Alex quite literally lying on top of him to steal it. I’m laughing at their imbecility when their bickering is interrupted by a knock on the door.
“I got it,” Will says, bringing the remote with him to annoy Alex, who rolls his eyes. As soon as he opens it, someone pushes past him. We’re all equally astounded to see her.
“Where is he?” she shouts.
“Nicole, what are you doing here?” Will asks.
“His car’s outside. I know he’s here.” She opens every door frantically.
Alex gives in, probably terrified that she’ll break something in his parents’ flawless home. “He’s upstairs.”
When she thumps up the stairs loudly, I assume she’s been here before, probably back when they were still together.
“Kendrick Kingston!” she shouts at the top of her lungs. The guys and I share a look. We don’t need to talk. We’re thinking the same thing. We quickly gather at the bottom of the stairs to listen.
“Nicole, w-what are you doing here?” Kendrick babbles.
“Don’t you dare pretend that you don’t know. How could you do this to me?”
“I really had to go. I’m sorry…”
“I give you my body, my soul, just like old times, and you sneak out.”
The guys’ mouths part as mocking smiles take residency on their faces. We don’t hear an answer from Kendrick, but what we do hear… is a very loud clap.
She just slapped him.
Well, I assume?
Unless she clapped her hands?
Why would she clap her hands?
Winter, back to the point .
Kendrick and Nicole slept together? And here I thought I was the only one making terrible choices.
“You leave without saying goodbye. You’re an asshole, a dirtbag, a waste of space,” she screams, obviously unaware that we can hear everything loud and clear.
That’s when it hits me. I thought it was incredibly weird that Kendrick didn’t come home yesterday to lecture me about Haze. He was busy with Nicole.
I bet the guys think she’s a little crazy to show up for the sole purpose of making a scene, but I actually feel bad for her. I can relate; nobody likes feeling used.
“Nicole, calm down,” Kendrick says.
“I was such an idiot. How could I think that you cared? How could I be so stupid to fall for you again?” Her screams turn to muffled sobs.
I feel like I’m watching a TV show.
“Wait… You love me?”
“Of course I do. I never stopped.”
Oh for God’s sake, Nicholas Sparks, get out of here .
“I love you, too.”
“You do?” Nicole sniffles.
Silence.
Then, a smooch.
Oh, they’re making out.
After what I assume to be a hardcore kissing session, they pull away for air. When we hear footsteps, we all rush to the couch, shoving each other.
“Guess who’s back together?” Nicole announces, an enormous smile on her lips.
What? That girl can smile? When? How?
“No way?” Will musters the best surprised expression he possibly can, but the truth is written all over his face.
“That’s great, guys,” I say.
“We really didn’t see it coming,” Blake adds.
Kendrick frowns.
“You heard everything, didn’t you?”
“Yep,” we all say at the same time.
Our laughter intertwines. The East Side may be dysfunctional, but they’re like family. And in the end, family’s the most important thing.
It pains me to think that Haze doesn’t really have any.
But I also find a hint of irony in the story of the boy who’s terrified to end up alone but still refuses to let anyone in.
After the “we’re back together” moment, Kendrick goes back to his endless training, and Nicole joins us in the living room. Truth is, the girl can be nice when she wants to.
Notice the words when she wants to .
“So… Winter,” Blake says during a commercial. “Is there something you would like to tell us?”
Son of a…
He’s going to do this now?
“No, nothing in particular.”
“Are you sure?”
Can this possibly get any more awkward?
“Positive.” I nod.
My answer irritates him.
Will and Alex give us a weird look and draw their attention away from us and back to the TV. I want to thank the Lord that they’re not girls. Girls wouldn’t have just ignored that. I swear, we’re better than the FBI at finding out the truth sometimes. I lock eyes with Nicole, whose gaze is loaded with suspicion. I don’t know why Blake wants me to tell them. It doesn’t matter what happened. It’s over. Done.
Why tell a story that never really began?
My idea of a good time has always been to go see a movie, to go get ice cream on a sunny day, or to spend time with friends. They say you learn something new every day. Well, today taught me that watching Kendrick and Will take swings at each other for thirty minutes is not a hobby I’ll be pursuing in the future.
The violence and recklessness of their actions quickly rendered me terrified. Blake was right. If I thought I’d seen two guys fight before, I’d clearly never seen two trained fighters fight. Every fist Kendrick put up, Will avoided. Every punch that Will threw, Kendrick threw back. And to make it even worse, Alex said that Haze is a far more advanced fighter than Will as he started years prior to him. If Kendrick can’t beat Will, he won’t be able to beat Haze.
Kendrick’s incredible considering he’s only been in the game for two years. But Haze has been around for four.
Needless to say that’s not helping our odds.
My cousin tried to show me a couple of moves to defend myself in between breaks. Having to pretend I had no idea what he was talking about slowly but surely drove me insane. Haze and I already spent hours training so that I’d master the basics. It seemed so important to him to teach me how to defend myself. One more check on his “let’s convince Winter that I care” list, I guess.
As we drive toward the moment I’ve so desperately been trying to avoid, I feel myself trembling. My breathing is sharp, irregular. I can’t deal with the burden of reality right now. I nervously fidget with my fingers, watching the neighborhood fall asleep as the lights gradually go out along the way. Kendrick’s been sparing me the details until now. But he’ll have to tell me everything when we get there.
“You need to chill, Winter. I can feel your stress.” Will nudges me with his elbow.
“I can’t help it.”
“What are you so worried about? We’ve been training super hard for this. Kendrick will beat Haze.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“He has to,” Blake glances at me. “He will.”
Gee, thanks. That helps.
“We’re here,” Kendrick says. “That’s the farthest we go.” The area is empty, deserted. He pulls up next to the creepiest tunnel I’ve ever seen. The darkness on the opposite end makes it hard to believe that anyone ever found the courage to cross it.
“Can’t I just stay here? Do I absolutely have to witness this act of violence?”
Alex shakes his head. “The prize has to be present during the fight. I’m sorry. That’s the rule.”
“Who made up that rule? Is it written in stone? I’d like to see it stated somewhere, or I’m not going.”
Will grins, getting out of the car.
“Call it an unwritten rule.”
I try to swallow the lump in my throat and fail. When I finally gather the courage to get out of the car, I’m welcomed by utter and complete darkness. The tunnel hovers in front of us, reminding me of every horror movie where the girl dies ever .
They want me to go in there ?
If I wasn’t surrounded by extremely well-trained fighters right now, I’d have peed my pants already.
“So where is the fight happening? Are we the first ones here?”
Will scoffs. “Cute. You think because we’re called street fighters that we actually fight in the street?” His gaze shift to the boys. “The Downside, huh? I thought we’d moved on from that.”
Blake shrugs. “The fighter responsible for the deal gets to pick, you know that.”
I assume it means whoever challenged the enemy into the fight gets to choose the place and time. Well, I guess I have Haze to thank for giving me nightmares for the rest of my life.
Blake speaks again. “Plus, it’s the safest place right now. They’ll never find us here.”
I know that by they he means the authorities. Kendrick said that they heard about the fights from whispers on the street and rumors running around town. But it’s like a unicorn. Hearing of it and actually finding one are two different things.
The fights constantly changing location make it near impossible to track the “show.” That’s what they call it. You need to be in the inner circle to know when or where they happen, and from what I’ve heard, that’s not an easy circle to get into. That makes me wonder how Blake, who was the first one to get into it, did it.
“Okay.” Kendrick steps in my way and looks deeply into my eyes. “We need to go over the basics before we go down there. One wrong move and everything could turn to shit. First, don’t interfere with the fight—never. Even if Haze is beating the shit out of me, you don’t say anything. Whatever happens, he won’t kill me. He can’t. Not if I surrender. Do you understand?”
I nod halfheartedly.
“Second, you have to be willing to surrender. Ten seconds on the floor marks the end of the fight. If you don’t accept defeat when you can barely stand, your opponent will not be held responsible if the last punch kills you, whether it’s voluntary or not.”
In other words, he has the right to kill you.
Goose bumps creep onto my skin.
“Just like when betting on anything such as horses, car races, you only have one chance to bet and there are no refunds. You’re responsible for losing your money. So in conclusion, keep your head down, don’t draw attention to yourself, and everything should be fine, okay?”
Only then do I realize my eyes are flooded. Kendrick stares at me in shock. I can’t handle the guilt. He’s in this mess because of me. If I hadn’t followed him, I wouldn’t have to look over my shoulder every step I take. If I’d just stayed home, he wouldn’t have to worry about what’s going to happen to me if he loses.
When a tear rolls down my face, the coldhearted fighter standing in front of me comes apart and turns back into the little boy I grew up with, the boy who stood up to my bullies when we were six, the Kendrick I ate entire boxes of cookies with in secret.
“I’m so sorry you got dragged into this, cousin.” He pulls me into a hug. “It’s going to be fine, I promise. It’ll all be over soon.”
I should feel better, but I don’t. It’ll all be over soon, he says.
But for who?
As we get closer to the tunnel, I try and assemble the million pieces scattered in my mind. What’s the Downside? And how the hell do we get there? Kendrick leads the way toward the unknown. When he activates the flashlight on his phone, the cement walls hovering over and around us reveal graffiti of all sorts. One graffiti tag in particular catches my eyes.
WS .
“We’re in West Side territory,” Alex explains when he notices the way I peer at the bold letters.
Of course we are.
That’s not helping our odds part two .
The flashlight stops on something I’d say is rather confusing—although it does remind me that I shouldn’t even be surprised at this point. A sewer grate. Again, the light refuses to pay us a visit, leaving me to fend for myself as I desperately try to see what’s under it. The only visible thing in the man-sized hole is a rusty metal ladder embedded into the wall.
A sewer? Really?
Is this Haze’s way of telling me I’m full of shit?
“What are we doing? Hanging out with the rats?” I ask when Kendrick easily pulls the grate up and uncovers the way to hell.
“You’ll see” is all he says.
He begins to go down the ladder. Then comes Blake’s turn, followed by Alex’s, and finally, mine. As soon as my feet connect with the ground, I’m overwhelmed by an atrocious smell, my dinner threatening to make an appearance. On the bright side—there is no sign of water anywhere, which is good. Haze ruined my idea of love. I don’t need him to ruin my shoes, too.
When Will puts the grate back into place and goes down the ladder, as well, I catch myself wondering what would happen if someone were to drop a block of cement over the grate. Would we be stuck here forever?
“Come on.” Kendrick motions and walks ahead.
I follow them unwillingly. We take numerous turns, venturing deeper and deeper into the tunnels. I try to keep up, but I know I wouldn’t find my way back if I had to. When I make out a massive concrete door in the distance, I understand that I got it all wrong. This isn’t a sewer.
It never was.
“Welcome to the Downside,” Will says as Kendrick pulls on the door with a groan that indicates how heavy it is.
It squeaks open, revealing what seems to be a completely different universe.
People.
A lot of people.
I have no idea what that door is made of, but it sure is soundproof, considering that I never, and I mean never, heard any of the numerous voices on the other side. Everywhere I look, all I can think is Cesspool of Unsavory Characters .
A buzzing sound emanates from the white neon lights illuminating the room. Spread across the metallic ceiling, they flicker repeatedly, increasing the creepy vibe by a million. There are so many questions I want to ask, but I can’t.
I want to know who built this place. Is it only used for the street fights? How did they manage to keep it undercover for so long? One look around the secret lair is all it takes for some of my questions to answer themselves.
Drug dealers, pimp, junkies, muscle heads.
The Downside isn’t just for fighting.
As we make our way through the crowd, heads start to turn one by one.
Kendrick whispers, “Don’t let them see your fear.”
I do my best to ignore the intense anger and hatred pointed at us, keeping my eyes glued to the ground.
In the distance, a dense crowd is gathered in a circle, waiting for something. And that something is the fight. Soon, people begin to part, stepping out of our way to let us through, all the while making sure to stare at us in the most hateful way a human possibly can.
A couple of meters stand between us and the center of the circle.
“What’s the North Side doing here?” Blake says through gritted teeth.
My gaze travels upward to the large flock of unknown and diverse faces. Kendrick wasn’t lying when he said people came from everywhere to see the show.
When I see Ian, leader of the North Side and Haze’s ally, I can’t stop the thumping in my chest. Our eyes meet and he smirks, probably thinking of all the different ways he could murder me.
I peel my eyes away, fighting the burning need to look for Haze’s face in the crowd. The person I see instead is Tanner. My breathing increases as I deny him eye contact. I can feel his gaze stinging in my skull. Then, after what seems to be an eternity, Kendrick puts an end to my misery and comes to an abrupt stop. Blake, Alex, and Will do the same.
“Finally.”
I recognize the voice who’s been haunting my every waking moment. I can’t bear to look at him, hiding behind Kendrick and the guys like a terrified puppy.
“We’re here, Haze. Let’s get this over with,” Kendrick fumes.
“I’d like nothing more, but first… show me the prize.”
My heart sinks.
I can’t believe these words just came out of his mouth.
Out of obligation, Will, Alex, and Blake step aside, but Kendrick doesn’t. He stays in position, clenching his fists as if to say, “Anyone who wants to touch her will have to go through me first.”
Haze scoffs. “What are you afraid of? I’m not going to look at her to death.”
The crowd cackles.
Kendrick sighs and moves barely enough for Haze to get a clear shot of me. That’s when the last trace of will I have leaves my body, and I look up.
Our gazes lock.
There he is, across the circle, wearing his ripped leather jacket and his oh-so-usual arrogant and yet unbearably charming smile. Dark bags rim his piercing blue eyes, making it obvious that he hasn’t gotten much sleep lately.
The blood coursing through my veins turns cold at the complete absence of kindness in his features.
Whoever this guy is, it’s not Haze.
He looks like him. He sounds like him. But he’s a stranger.
I never thought looking at a stranger could hurt this much .
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Haze begins as cheers rise all around us. “Thank you for joining us tonight.”
He steps into the circle. “As some of you may have heard, Kendrick here has been a very good fighter recently. Too good. He’s actually been doing so well that some of you started to think he might be better than me.” He pauses, mockery lingering in his tone. “So, of course, I have no choice but to put that to the test.”
Great. All of this for an ego problem.
“But I thought we’d spice it up a little bit. Why not get something else out of it? You see, the East Side and I made a deal. If I win, I get to have this pretty little thing to myself for a month.”
Everybody turns to look at me.
I think I’m going to be sick.
“But if I lose, Kendrick and his… friend here are free to leave unscathed. You know the rules. You know the game. No refunds, no second chances, no killing, and no interference. You’ve all placed your bets.” Haze raises his voices. “Now, are you ready?”
The shouts grow in volume.
Kendrick and Haze both remove their shirts and throw them on the floor. Too much testosterone in here.
It’s well-known that wearing clothes during a fight isn’t recommended as the fabric can be pulled and used against you. Although they’re not doing it to impress the ladies, I can tell from the looks on the faces of the girls witnessing the scene that they find the boys to be a sight for sore eyes. As for me, I can’t even begin to think about that right now.
“No, Kendrick.” I reach for his arm.
“I’m going to be okay. I promise.” I can see the fear burning in the back of his eyes. “Remember, you can’t interfere. Promise me.”
“I—”
He insists. “Promise me, Winter.”
I almost choke on the words. “I promise.”
I clench my jaw as the tears come pouring down my cheeks, my poor eyes obviously unable to contain them anymore.
This is happening… and it’s my fault. Haze and Kendrick stare at each other in silence, ready to attack. I hold my breath, waiting for the first move.
Then, the inevitable happens.
Haze takes the first punch.
Kendrick easily dodges it, but when Haze lands a bigger, harder one seconds later, he’s not so lucky. Kendrick groans and steps back, struggling to maintain his balance. A single punch like this would be enough to kill me. His eyebrow’s already bleeding.
Kendrick’s fists then turn into white-knuckled weapons that send Haze flying to the ground. Two seconds later, he’s back on his feet, rushing toward Kendrick and tackling him. Before Haze has the chance to attack, Kendrick knees him in the stomach and elbows him in the face.
I’ve never seen anything so horrible. The crowd clearly doesn’t agree with me, cheering in satisfaction at this display of horrific violence. It’s all happening so fast, it’s hard to keep up.
One more punch, one more kick.
It feels like it’ll never end.
Next thing I know, the tables have turned and Kendrick’s under Haze. Both their lips are cut open. Haze’s nose is bleeding, and Kendrick’s eyebrow isn’t doing much better.
Straddling him, Haze repeatedly punches him in the face, over and over again. Kendrick tries to dodge his punches but fails miserably, his arm dropping to his side in defeat.
He’s not strong enough.
If Haze keeps this up, he’s going to kill him.
I can’t stop a loud scream mixed with sobs from escaping my lips at the thought. I don’t care what happens to me. Kendrick doesn’t deserve this. As if my intentions are written in the sky, strong arms surround me from behind before I can step into the circle and put an end to this madness.
“Winter, don’t!” Will shouts, struggling to hold me back.
“No. Stop. Let me go,” I beg, the hysterical tears stealing my sight away from me. I’ve never fought harder.
I scream again, but this time, it cuts through the piercing shouting of the crowd and echoes among its roar.
Haze hears it.
And he looks up.
It feels like time stops when our eyes connect. He’s staring at me. I’m bawling my eyes out and fighting Will like my life depends on it. In that moment, when he sees me cry in despair, color drains from his face. For a short instant… for just a second…
I recognize him .
The Haze who protected me from Ian when he had no reason to. The guy who took me to the end of the world just so I could look at the stars. The guy who once admitted to me that he was afraid of spiders on a dusty school rooftop and helped me get out of a motorcycle helmet that was stuck on my head.
He’s still in there.
It seems to happen in slow motion. He looks at me and says a million things without opening his mouth. He nods .
It only lasts a second. It’s almost nothing.
But I see it.
It’s like he said, “It’s okay, I got this.”
We’re brought back to reality when Kendrick takes advantage of Haze’s distraction and takes one hell of a swing at him. I feel relieved and guilty at the same time, which is something I never knew was possible. I distracted him and stopped him from hurting Kendrick, but now he’s the one getting beat up. Kendrick’s on top of him, hounding him with punches. Haze doesn’t fight back.
Why isn’t he fighting back?
He doesn’t get up, covering his face with his hands in an attempt to protect himself. He’s not on the offensive anymore. He’s defensive. Kendrick gets up, kicking Haze in the stomach recklessly. Both of them are bloody messes at this point.
“Ten.”
The crowd begins the countdown.
“Nine.”
Haze rolls over to his side, holding on to his stomach in agony.
“Eight.”
I’m praying that he’ll stay on the ground.
“Seven.”
Praying for all of this to be over soon.
“Six.”
Please, Haze…
“Five.”
Don’t get up.
“Four.”
The sobs are suffocating me.
“Three.”
Ian and his fighters scream for him to get back up. I frown, narrowing my eyes. There’s something about them. Something I didn’t notice that night in front of the school.
“Two.”
Ian turns his head, and our eyes meet. He smiles.
“One.”
The oxygen abandons me. I blink in disbelief.
“Zero.”
It’s over. Kendrick won.
But the sound that cuts through the thick air right after tells me that I couldn’t have been more wrong.
It’s not over at all.
The gunshot echoes through the screams of despair. The lights go out in a piercing and vibrant noise. People start running in panic, shoving each other, all with one goal and one goal only: to survive.
I hear Haze calling my name. I hear his voice in the chaos.
But he doesn’t hear me.
He doesn’t hear me when somebody violently yanks me from behind and twists my hair around their fingers.
He doesn’t hear me when the soaked cloth is pressed against my mouth and my senses spill out of me.
I know he’ll never hear me when my knees surrender and I feel myself falling. As I slowly slip out consciousness, I wish I could go back and tell them the truth. All of it. And the last thing I see before all turns black… is the memory of Ian and his fighters staring at me across the room.
They all have scars.