Stryker

Hiding behind Coach.

Well fuck him!

With one final punch, the bag came loose and flew into the wall before it dropped to the floor with a heavy thud, narrowly missing Coach.

The only sound was my heavy breathing, as I clenched my fists to lose the anger that still held me. I screwed my eyes closed, trying to breathe before the headache really knocked me on my ass.

In…two…three…and out.

I felt my heart rate gradually slow. I refused to let my anger continue to consume me. They had me on a fucking leash and instead of fighting my way out, I let them keep it around my fucking neck.

“You got it outta your system?” Coach asked, unmoved from where he’d been watching me beat the shit out of the bag. “Because you need to take a break before the fight.”

I turned away and slung a towel around my neck before wiping the sweat from my face and out of my eyes. The water Coach passed me felt good going down my throat, and I drank another…ignoring the eyes that were on me. Most guys in the gym gave me a wide berth, but they still watched me…waiting for that weakness to exploit. I hated them…this constant power struggle. I crushed the empty bottle in my hands and tossed it into the trash. I needed something…I needed more.

I’d never admit that to anyone because then, they’d have more of a hold over me. There was one guy at the gym who would always bring his girl with him. She’d sit on the sidelines and watch while her guy worked out. I’d watched them, and the way she looked at her guy made me crave to have someone look at me that way.

One thing I’d always refused from them had been women. They’d brought them to me since I was seventeen. That first time, the woman had stripped naked, and I’d briefly gawked at her like any adolescent boy would. Her big tits and bare pussy had caused my dick to punch up in the air before I’d turned my head away. She’d known and had moved into my line of sight before starting to play with her tits and finger herself. I’d come in my sweats; embarrassed as fuck.

After that first time, I’d switched off and had refused to participate. But then I’d become the man that I am today; older, wiser, full of ripped muscle that they’d found intimidating. They’d stopped for a time, but then it started again when I won fights. Won them money.

It was my reward.

I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been tempted. So damn tempted to wet my dick, but I hadn’t. Ever. My hand had had so much use over the years, I was surprised I still had the strength to punch…or that my dick hadn’t fallen off. But, no fucking way was I going to fuck a whore. I certainly never met anyone else, but I dreamt and kept my one and only longing to myself. The longing was my weakness and, in part, I dreaded the day, if ever, that I gave my heart to anyone because then, they’d have the biggest hold over me that they’d ever had.

I needed to run…

The words popped into my head the same as they always did at unexpected times.

If I listened and acted then they’d come after me. They were the only ones to know my real name. They knew everything about me, and even watched every fucking dollar that was spent for my keep, which wasn’t much. In fact, during my whole fighting career, the most I’d insisted be spent and refused to back down from was on my apartment. I’d always dreamed of living high, where I could look out over the city at night, at the sun setting and rising. I’d wanted to watch how the heat would rise during the morning, until it was at its fullest strength around noon. And I had that. I could sit all day on my balcony and just dream of freedom.

I’d be laughed at by outsiders if they knew how much of my life was controlled by others and the reason why. Considering my strength and ability that I now had, I sometimes wondered why I hadn’t fought for my freedom from their clutches. They’d given me the chance to live alone because I told them that I couldn’t concentrate otherwise. They’d believed me, but I was watched.

You know why you haven’t run though…they hold you under the threat of kidnapping another boy to replace you if you leave.

I’d been through hell over the years, and I’d never wish that hell on anyone else.

Since the night my life changed, I’d never seen the suit again, although I had the feeling that he was the one running the show. I would find him one day. There was no question about that. When I did, it would be his turn to pray.

“Fuck!”

I was supposed to be calming down, but I needed the anger for the ring in a few hours.

Coach jumped at my angry cursing, and when I glanced at him he rubbed the back of his neck. A sure sign he was agitated. “I’m sorry, Stryker.” He glanced at his bright green sneakers before he shook his head, and gave me his back. “I’m calling it. Go home and relax for a bit before you’re picked up.”

Go home and relax.

What a joke.

I was supposed to be a machine. I was no longer the sniveling boy too afraid to ignore the demands on me. After the initial beating, I did everything. I let them lead me by the fucking balls, and still did. Sometimes I think death would have been the better option to have taken when they’d given me the choice.

But go home and relax—as if that was an option.

Heading toward the showers, I thought of the one place where I wasn’t known. It was difficult to hide my size, but with a beanie pulled low I could sit in a dark corner while I watched the world around me. I wanted that world…a life away from the ring. I’d been going there for a few weeks, but it had become the only place that I could really think. It was the only place I’d ever managed to disappear and not been found until I was ready to be.

The small bar was crowded on the weekends, and where I would normally shy away from crowded areas, I relished being at the bar. No one bothered me there, not even the ladies, which was fine with me. I may have started craving the soft touch of a woman, but I didn’t want anyone right now. No way would I give them the opportunity to use someone else against me.

Assholes!