“Woah! Save that shit for the ring, son. You’re up next,” Pat said, shaking me and giving me another look that told me he wasn’t taking any shit tonight. He wanted a clean fight.
I nodded in silent agreement. My fighting was going to be as clean as I could get away with. Pat was all about the honour of bare-knuckle boxing, it’s what he stood for. But tonight, it was my honour at stake. I wasn’t fighting to win. I was fighting to destroy.
I pulled my T-shirt over my head and threw it to the side as I stepped into the fight zone. Brodie smiled at me, but I just glared back at him, using those precious seconds to focus my energy.
I thought about Emily and how she’d looked at me like I was dog shit on her shoe.
I saw Ryan as he straddled me, punching me like I was the scum of the earth and he needed me gone.
Then I remembered being beaten by Brodie and Jensen. I heard the names they called me. Then I saw an image of Jensen in my mind, holding me down in the boys’ bathroom while Brodie smacked his fist into my face until my nose bled. I swear if the teacher hadn’t disturbed them that day they’d have killed me. I was seven years old. They were nine, maybe ten, and the only punishment they’d received was a slap on the wrist and a warning not to do it again.
That’s what happens when you’re poor and your family aren’t worth shit in this town. You have to wait until you’re older to get the revenge you’re owed.
In the distance, I could hear the referee reciting the rules. No head butting, no biting, no elbow smashing. I nodded, but I wasn’t listening. All emotion was drained from my body. All I had left was fire, anger, fury.
The ref stepped back, and it was on. Brodie held his fists up in defence.
“Come on then, you pussy. Show me what you got. Or did Jensen wear you out the other night? You’ve always been a disappointment. All these people here tonight to watch you fight and look at you, nothing but a weak-ass pussy with a chip on your shoulder.”
I didn’t hear him. He thought his words would get to me, but I already had fourteen years of hatred stored up inside me. There wasn’t room for any more.
He jabbed his fist out and I saw it, but I didn’t duck like I usually would’ve. I wanted him to get a few hits in. Those knocks would help to numb the pain. The crowd booed, probably thinking I wasn’t trying. They needed to shut the fuck up. I was in control here. I knew what I was doing.
Brodie got another punch in, hitting my side. The pain that radiated through my body helped to release some of the pressure in my head, as if it gave my brain somewhere else to focus. It was exactly what I needed. I tensed my core, letting him get a few more hits in. The crowd were screaming now. They thought this was done and dusted, but I hadn’t even started. In this ring I wasn’t a man, I was a machine, and that machine had just flipped it’s switch and shifted to attack.
I grunted as I threw a punch into his face, putting the whole weight of my body behind it. Brodie jerked back and seemed to grow unsteady on his feet. One hit and I was already gaining the upper-hand. He wiped over his face and shook his head to try to steady himself. Blood was pouring from his nose and I grinned. A broken nose was my first gift of the night.
I charged into him, pushing him up against the bales and pounding my fists into his stomach. I wanted to add a few broken ribs to the list, but when Brodie dropped to the floor, the ref intervened and I had to back away. Fucker didn’t stay down for long though. He was buying time. I had him right where I wanted him, and he knew it. He was about to get his ass handed to him on a plate in front of all these people, and it was fourteen years in the making.
I stood firm with my fists held up ready. Brodie wobbled on his feet, but he wasn’t about to give up just yet. It was a good job too. I wasn’t done with him by a long shot. I had a lot more fight left in me.
I swung my fist back and smacked him at the side of the head, catching his jaw and sending him flying backwards. He stumbled and tried to regain his footing, but he took a tumble and that’s when I heard it, the crack of his skull as he landed on the cobbled barn floor. He’d caught his foot on a loose flagstone and judging from the amount of blood pouring from the back of his head, he wasn’t getting back up any time soon.
My ears were ringing with the buzz of the adrenaline and I could just about make out the screams around me. Then people started to push and jostle around the edge of the ring. I stood over Brodie as he lay there, bleeding out, his eyes closed and
his body twitching, and I was about to spit on him when I saw a flash of blonde hair. A girl knelt down and started to cradle his head. She checked his pulse and then screamed up at me, “I think he’s dead! You killed him! You fucking killed him!”
Harper.
Harper bloody Yates, Brodie’s twin sister.
I had no idea she was even here. What the fuck had I done? I’d just beaten her brother to death in front of her. There was gonna be a new place in hell reserved specially for me after tonight, and if truth be told, I didn’t fucking care.
Pat and a few of his men shoved me out of the way and started giving Brodie first aid. I just stood there, my life balancing on a knife’s edge. I didn’t want to stick around for the aftermath. I’d done what I’d come here to do. I’d shown everyone what’d happen if they ever crossed me. I hadn’t factored in the guilt from seeing Harper wailing over her brother. I didn’t need to add more weight to the shame that was my life. I felt worthless enough already, but now I had even more reason to hate myself. I was a fucking liability. I couldn’t even do revenge right.
Shutting down the emotions that were surfacing and threatening to drown me in self-loathing, I turned and pushed my way through the crowd. A few people shoved me, shouting in my face, but I didn’t listen.
“Call an ambulance,” I heard Pat shout out. I knew the police would follow and I wasn’t about to stick around to be hung out to dry. I left the barn, got into my car and drove away. I threw my mobile out of the window and kept going. I was gonna drive until my fuel ran out and then I was gonna keep going. I had nowhere to go. I had no one to care.
From this moment on, Brandon Mathers was no more.
A ghost.
A forgotten man.
I doubted anyone would mourn me. I wouldn’t even mourn myself.
“No one’s seen him since. Police found his phone discarded on the path outside the barn. His car was left abandoned about thirty miles away. We don’t know what to do. There’s a warrant out for his arrest, but we’ve got no idea where he might be. What do we do, Ry?” Zak was frantic, and Ryan looked as shell-shocked as I felt. I thought we’d had our full quota of bad luck last night, but it seems fate wasn’t done with us yet.