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Good fucking choice in music.
Whoever picked that song for me has it right because Jamey Silva is going to be bowing down to my ass.
Jogging quicker than Dale and the group following me, I get to the ring fast enough to see Jamey dancing around like some asshole. When Jamey finally gets a glimpse of me, he’s not even phased, he just laughs at me and heads over to his corner of the ring.
Fucker doesn’t think he has a thing to worry about. I’m going to enjoy wiping that fucking smirk off his face.
The ref outside of the ring starts checking my gloves over one last time and gives me a quick run through of the rules.
Dale pants a little when he finally catches up and pulls me to the side of the ring. “What the fuck? Couldn’t wait for us all?”
“Nope,” I say with a shrug. “I’m ready for this shit to start.”
Motioning to the ring, Dale says, “Well, get the fuck in there.”
Walking into the ring, I feel the mat beneath my feet, and it brings back memories of all the fights I’ve been through. At first, it’s comforting to feel like I’m back home, but then it quickly becomes terrifying.
I look down at the mat and remember not so long ago I laid there with my shoulder in shambles. I can also see Tommy lying there on the mat, knocked out from the cheap shot he got from Jamey.
Each memory has my stomach churning with bile.
What the fuck am I getting myself into?
With all the shouting and yelling coming from all the people in the arena, it feels like I’m going deaf. Like I’m slowly drowning in noise and fear.
My fucking lungs are struggling to get a full breath of air.
“Emmett!” I hear a voice shouting at me, but I can’t really figure out from where.
Hands grab my shoulder and all of a sudden I’m facing the referee for the fight, Jim Anders. “You okay?”
Nodding my head slowly has me feeling as if I’m suddenly back in my house, drunk and barely able to focus on what’s in front of me.
Looking deep into my eyes, I can tell Jim’s about the call the fight right here. He’s about to wave his hands at the judges and say I can’t competently compete in the match.
Fuck.
The last words I ever heard Tommy say to me ring through my head and I never even got to talk to him after he left that message.
I’ll be there soon, brother.
Not soon enough. He’s gone and I won’t get to see him again for a very long time, if ever.
“Emmett, I gotta hear you say something, buddy. You okay? Can you fight?” Jim Anders asks me.
I’ll be there soon, brother.
He’s gone, he can’t come back. There’s no coming back from where he is.
“Fuck!” Anders whispers harshly and turns away from me.
He’s about to walk over to the gate of the cage to end the match.
Shit. Fuck!
I gotta fucking do something.
“Jim!” I shout at him. “Come back here!”
