AllFreeNovel
Share Us
TEN
Ben
Cashel and I didn’t have any time to discuss how we were going to do this. Immediately after the ‘contestants’ of the Bawl or Brawl Battle are announced, the four of us are ushered off into separate rooms to get ready.
The chosen students have my mind spinning. I was suspicious before, but now I’m sure there must be cameras placed all over this bullshit school. The Gallery probably has full-time access to watch our every moment.
If that’s true—and I’m pretty sure it is—then it’s not a shocker that Cash and I are pitted against one another. Behind closed doors, and even out in the open, it’s clear he and I have a friendship outside Bitterwood Prep.
In fact, I don’t remember a time where we weren’t in each other’s lives. Our moms were close, the best of friends and pregnant at the same time. Even though mydadlives in fucking Ireland, our moms have always made it a point to keep in touch for their sake and ours. The two of them had a bond, and mine still isn’t over the loss of Mrs. O’Connor. I’m not sure she’ll ever be.
Clenching and unclenching my fists, I pace around the small ten by ten room. It’s bare, with dark brown walls, a single mirror, and a small stool on wheels. Swift rapping on the door has me turning towards it and in walks a female guard. Even for a woman, she’s intimidating. Tall, at least 6’4’’, she actually looks down at me, and that’s rare to find in a woman. Her black hair is pulled back tightly into a bun and a severe look angles her eyebrows. We stare at each other, one of her hands on her firearm, the other holding a bit of white cloth.
She tosses me the cloth. “Here, change into this. And be fucking quick about it. We don’t have all day to wait around for your prissy asses.”
I look down at the item in my hands and hold it up to see. I burst out in a laugh, unable to help myself. “You can’t be serious.”
The guard arches one dark brow at me in challenge, and pulls a taser from her belt, aiming it directly at me. “Fucking try me, prissy boy.”
“Fine. If it’s a free show you want, then I’d be happy to give it to you.”
Her scowl falters for a second, but she wills it firmly back into place. I slip out of my uniform, and finally drop my boxer-briefs to the ground. I just stand there for a moment, naked and half-hard with the guard’s eyes fixed on my dick. I give it a stroke, keeping my gaze glued to hers. A slight flush creeps on her cheeks, and she raises her eyes to meet mine, lips parting when she realizes she’s been caught. I let a smug grin tug my lips. “Take a picture—it’ll last longer.”
She adjusts her grip on her taser and cracks her neck. “You have ten seconds to put those damn things on. One extra second and I’ll have you on the ground, writhing in pain.”
“Ooh, kinky,” I say with a chuckle, stepping into the man-sized booty shorts, snapping the elastic onto my hips. A lesser man might be embarrassed as I step in front of the mirror and gaze at myself. The shorts are like those tiny ones that the wrestlers wore in high school, except they had a leotard under theirs. Not me—I’m free ballin’.
I turn towards the guard, adjusting my junk. “Pretty sure these are for girls. My fucking cock is gonna fall out.”
Her disapproval of me softens and she shrugs. “Doesn’t sound like a bad thing to me. Now, move. Time’s up.”
She flicks the tip of her weapon towards the door, and I follow her direction. With one hand on my shoulder, the other pressing the end of the taser into the top of my ass cheek, the guard guides me through a darkened hallway towards a metal door with a red, glowing sign above reading, ‘EXIT.’
Moving around me, she presses her thumb to a scanning device and the door clicks open. She pushes me outside, and a soft wind blows along my skin. Night has fallen over the grounds and my bare feet crunch on a gravel walkway leading through the dark.
“Where the fuck are we going?” I ask, deepening my voice.
She digs her fingers into my skin. “A little place we like to callThe Arena.” She inhales deeply and lets out a long, satisfied sigh. “I can already smell blood in the air. Can you?”
She’s just trying to get to me, so I ignore her comment and allow her to push me in the direction she wants. Storm clouds have rolled overhead, and the scent of rain carries towards me on the wind. Out of the darkness I can just make out what looks like a circle of seats reminding me of the bleachers surrounding the football field.
Hushed whispers reach me, and I strain to make out a single word. The hard gravel digs into the soles of my feet as we move closer. With the taser still pressing into my skin, she moves me around the perimeter to a tunnel between two sections. Here we wait as the static of speakers coming to life crackles through the air. Even the whispers stop to listen, and I shift uncomfortably on my feet.
“Welcome, everyone, to our first, official event! The Gallery voted, and the results are…interesting.” Principal Windsor’s voice booms around the arena, and I grit my teeth, anger building within me at being forced to do this against Cash. Anyone else I would have pummeled into the ground, but how can I fight my best friend? At the same time, how can I refuse and not appear weak? Bitterwood Prep isn’t a place where the weak survive—it’s the tomb where they come to die.
And I don’t plan on fucking dying today.
Windsor laughs like a crazed maniac before continuing. “Let’s not keep you waiting any longer. Please, welcome our esteemed contestants, Cashel, Bentley, Bianca, and Remington!”
The guard nudges me forward, and my heart begins to pound as I travel blindly through the blackness of the tunnel. The air is stifling in here, as if it’s been stagnant, baking under the hot sun for days. It’s hard to grapple with this new reality even when it smacks you right in your face. Sure, I can strip and shower in front of others—I’ve always enjoyed having an audience—but this... this is different. This isn’t a forced hand seeking humiliation, this isn’t a grueling battle through an insidious obstacle course. This is taking destiny into our own hands, choosing to battle our opponents, wanting to see them lose so we can survive.
What awaits us during the Bawl or Brawl Battle? And worse, what are the consequences if we aren’t declared the winners?
I walk straight into a door and search for a handle only for it to swing outwards.
“Ahh, and here they are!” Windsor’s voice sounds much too cheerful for my foul mood. When I stumble forward, my eyes are stabbed with an onslaught of fluorescent lighting. Raising my hand to block it, I squint and allow my eyes to adjust as people begin to clap. Lowering my hand, an arena of sorts comes into view.
Stadium seating encases a sunken ring with metal bleachers. The area appears to be dug into the ground and is slightly smaller than a traditional boxing ring—except, the sides aren’t made of forgiving rope. Instead, colorful tiles of blue, yellow, and orange spread along the ring in a Caribbean mosaic that seemssoout of place here. It reminds me of what you might see lining the walls of a pool when visiting a private beach club.
