Page 93 of Silent Damage

Gabe’s eyes narrow as he looks around. “Let’s go.“

He tries to pull me away, but I stop him. “No. I’m doing this, Gabe. You can either stay and support me or leave.”

Gabe swallows, his body almost trembling.

The bell chimes, signaling the start of the next fight, and I back away from him and walk into the ring.

Sweat pours down my forehead, gushing past my brows and burning my eyes as I watch my opponent, all four million pounds of him, stomp toward me.

The ref walks in, raises an arm to signal the bell, and the fight begins.

My fists rise to my face, and I take a few practice punches, like the idiot I just walloped, and I curse myself for doing it.

It’s the kiss of death—when you have to make a lame show of toughness, you’re done for.

He doesn’t even raise his fists. His face is blank, which is scarier than if he looked mad. His eyes see past me—like I’m nothing but a tiny nuisance blocking his chance to join the gang.

I hop from one foot to another while backing away from him and circling the perimeter.

The crowd jeers, “Stop running, little boy.”

They’re right.

If I’m going down, I want to go out like a man.

I inch closer with my fists protecting my face.

My instincts tell me to throw the first punch, so I do, and the fucker catches my fist with his hand and grips it hard.

I try to cross him with a left, but he blocks it and connects his fist with my face, sending me hurtling backward onto my ass.

Sharp pain explodes up my back from the fall. He runs forward, and the fucker is fast. It scares me to my feet, and I run around the perimeter like a bitch again.

He draws closer, and I knee him in his gut. It knocks the wind out of him for a second, but then he grabs my hair and slams me against the ground.

His foot comes down hard on my head, and my vision blurs.

Then he stomps on my back.

He does it again.

And again.

My spine feels like it’s in pieces.

I’m flat on my stomach with this man stomping on me like a bug.

He starts to make a show of it for the crowd, dramatically raising his foot high before letting it crash down on my battered body, but the pause between gives me enough time to flip onto my back, and I throw a punch against his nuts.

He keels over, giving me the opportunity to scurry back on all fours in the direction of the bench.

Gabe grabs my shoulders and pulls me close. “Neck. Hit him in the neck. Hard. Get him down and don’t stop. Go!”

He lifts me to my feet and gives me a shove, propelling me to the center ring where the guy is just about to get up.

I go to kick him right on the neck, but he catches my foot again and pulls me down, slugging me hard across the face before straddling me.

I can see the outline of his head against the piercing lights, and his fist reels back, fully prepared to turn my skull into a smoothie, but I find the last ounce of energy I have and throw a right jab, hitting him square in the neck. He falls back, clutching his neck and choking.