29. Chapter 25 #2
My slurred speech makes him laugh too, but he does what I want. He grabs the bottle, opens it, and knocks it against mine. We both take a few deep swigs.
“That’s all I needed. Fuck. I was supposed to go to the bathroom.” Unsteady, holding onto the locker behind me, I stand up.
“Whoa. Are you sure you can handle this, little bird?”
“You underestimate women and their creativity. In this state, I can still dance half the night away.”
Without looking back, I head for the exit. “Good luck out there,” I call. I can still hear his laughter even as I close the door behind me.
A deep breath flows from my lips. Relief. That’s what I feel.
Now all that’s left is to wait for the effects to hit.
And I hope before he enters the cage, he’ll drink the rest of the drink laced with the intoxicant I bought on the black market.
Hopefully, someone didn’t trick me, and I won’t accidentally kill him.
All I want is to see with my own eyes the downfall of the almighty, the undefeated champion. The legend of this ring.
I leave the hall as quickly as possible. Watching the current fight unfold, I blend into the crowd screaming from all sides. Cheers greet the fighters’ blows.
After a few minutes, it’s all over. The fight ends, and they announce the winner. The loser’s unconscious, so two security guards drag him by the arms out of the ring.
There’s a break, and it’s almost certain that the drug I gave Owen is slowly taking effect. He’s confident, proud, and stupid enough, though, that he would never consider throwing the fight.
When he emerges from the hallway, enters the cage, and jumps around like a monkey, he looks normal.
Fuck. Maybe I gave him too little? After all, he’s a huge bull.
Owen shakes his head from side to side, and the crowd goes wild for his antics. They love him, no question about it.
“I’d fuck him any way I could,” says the woman standing next to me.
A quick glance at her, but she isn’t talking to me. It’s her friend who’s purring akin to a cat in heat. “I know. I’d lick every inch of his body.”
This time, genuine disgust wells up in my mouth. I’m sure I’ll puke if I stay standing here. So I move a few steps to the side as the second fighter appears.
He’s shorter than Owen, but equally strongly built. He shows off his biceps with a kiss, demonstrates a few kicks, and jumps up and down.
I hope I bet on the right horse.
The gong sounds, and the rivals charge at each other.
The physical effort will only speed up the spread of the drug in Owen’s system.
It’s already clear in the first round when his movements become less coordinated, more chaotic, and random.
He lands a few solid punches, but they don’t faze the shorter man.
Quite the opposite. He laughs and throws a straight punch, sending Owen’s head snapping back.
You might hear sighs now and then. The spectators aren’t used to seeing this giant lose.
Too bad, because I watch with growing satisfaction as Owen gets beaten up. Every bruise appearing on his face, every drop of blood spilled, every crack of bone, brings satisfaction.
Sick.
But real.
He doesn’t understand what’s going on. He’s like a drunken little bird. The roles have simply swapped.
Owen’s movements are getting slower and slower. He falls to the mat after his opponent kicks him straight in the chest from a half-turn. I hope it hurts like hell and he can’t breathe because of it. Just like I couldn’t when he was choking me.
People are screaming at the top of their lungs now. They’re insulting him, laughing, taunting. But he’s not giving up yet. He gets up on his knees first, then slowly, holding the cage, stands on his feet.
I can’t stop the smile on my face. I truly can’t. This is sick. Maybe that’s who I am now?
Blood is flowing from his split lip and eyebrow. One eye’s swollen, the other bloodshot, his cheek and torso red.
Somehow, his blurred gaze finds me in the crowd. He looks at me, squinting, and understands nothing. As if he wants to shake it all off, he shakes his head.
Evil, however, never sleeps, exactly like his rival.
Even though Owen has his back turned to him, the other man attacks.
After all, there are no rules here. He strikes Owen in the back of the head with his elbow, and Owen collapses to his knees again.
This time, the referee stops the fight. The crowd goes wild.
Just like before, a winner’s announced, but my tormentor doesn’t wait for it. With the help of some guy, he limps out, leaning on him with the full weight of his body.
I’m satisfied, and it’s time to get out of here, but I stare at the cage for a moment longer, feeling a victory.
It wasn’t the same level of harm he inflicted on me in my childhood. Of course not. He deserved much more. But seeing him on his knees is enough for me, and I won’t forget it for the rest of my life.
With a sense of satisfaction, I head for the exit. The security guard opens the door for me without a word and lets me out.
A moment later, I step out into the fresh night air in front of the club. My smile is now full.
Time to go home.
My car’s parked farther away, so I walk slowly in that direction. As I pass the alley running alongside the club, something yanks at me.
And suddenly, I’m in the dark…
No!
One hand clamps over my mouth to stop me from screaming, and another grabs me tightly around the waist.
My eyes nearly pop out of my head; adrenaline hits me with incredible force. Blood is boiling inside me, and my ears ring. After the initial shock, there’s no trace of it left, so I thrash around and kick my legs, but it’s not enough. I don’t have enough strength to fight the person behind me.
He drags me into the gray alley, where only the faint glow of streetlights is visible. Only a little farther, and a little farther…
Jesus Christ! Anything but this!