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This was ridiculous.
Drake didn’t flinch. He was proud that the crowd knew his name, still sizing up his opponent.
“Oh my God, look at him!” Kylie squealed, squeezing my arm and giggling. “Holy shit, Jenny. Now I see it. Now I see why you can’t leave this guy alone. He is so fucking hot! You are so lucky.” Lucky? He wasn’t mine. He wanted nothing to do with me.
Though I hated the idea of it, this was where Drake belonged. He exuded more confidence here than I’d ever seen outside of the Dawg Pit. His expression was intense. The way he bounced on his toes, moving back and forth, snarling at his opponent, proved that he’d done this countless times before.
The ref spoke, but quickly moved away seconds later.
And then the fight began.
And I swear to you, not even two minutes passed before it was over. Christ, Drake was taunting Grit. He was playing with him, making circles around him. He had a gleam in his eyes, like he already knew he was going to win and just wanted to waste some time—put on a show for the fans.
Grit got Drake down once, but it didn’t last long. He pulled out and was on top in a flash. He didn’t destroy him, though. He stood back up and circled the cage, giving Grit another chance.
Again he taunted him, as fans hissed and demanded him to whip Grit’s ass. I guess he was tired of messing around, so he did the wise thing. He dropped him to the ground, one arm tightly hooked around his throat. The Grit was suffocating, and I felt sick to witness it.
I don’t think he noticed, but the entire time Drake held Grit and punched repeatedly, he was smiling. He was enjoying watching him squirm, enjoying the torment.
A wave of nausea hit me, but like a deer stuck in headlights, I couldn’t stop watching.
Something wet landed on my arm. Maybe sweat. I don’t know. I didn’t realize how close he was, how I could actually smell their sweat and body odor. I knew how Drake smelled; he had a much lighter scent than his opponent—a delicious piney scent, sweet like the earth, crisp like night air.
Kylie was way too into this, calling out to Drake to finish him.
And that’s exactly what he did.
Grit was out cold within the blink of an eye. Just like that. So quickly it seemed unreal. Just like a fucking movie. Drake was up, looking at his crowd, pleased with his victory.
He scanned the area, and when his eyes happened to move down and to his right, his entire face went blank. He stood on the mat, as still as ever. His arm was tossed in the air by the ref, but he allowed his arm to sag a bit.
Right at me, he looked, with eyes so dark and filled with turmoil that they confused me. My eyes felt hot and prickly. I still felt sick and dirty from witnessing his brutality.
My throat felt like it’d been filled with cotton balls. I couldn’t swallow. I could only stare. I could only watch.
So, this was why they called him Doomsday. This was why he wanted me to stay away from him. This was why he didn’t want to get too close. Because, he was right. He was a monster in that cage—an untamed beast. He was unstoppable, relentless, and powerful.
He was… Doomsday.
And being Doomsday was what he loved.
The ref dropped Drake’s arm and said something to him and he looked at the ref. I had to get away, finally breaking our connection. I couldn’t be there anymore.
“I need air,” I said in Kylie’s direction, but I didn’t want to ruin her fun. She could stay if she wanted to, but she didn’t. She followed after me as I shoved my way through the crowd, one hand cupping my mouth as I hurried for the exit.
“Wait—Jen! Jen!” Kylie kept yelling, and I felt her growing closer. Manny was at the exit and when he saw me coming he started to ask something with a smile but I shook my head and pushed past him, busting through the exit door.
And that’s when I let it all out.
My dinner and my emotions, all over the alley.
It was disgusting and totally unexpected. Kylie came rushing out, bending at my side, and grabbing my ponytail as if it were in the way. “Shit, Jen, what’s wrong?”
I swiped at my mouth with the back of my arm. “That’s what he loves so much?” I asked, pointing back. “That?”
Kylie looked confused, but then she shrugged. “Well, Jen, it’s what he grew up doing,” she said.
“I know, I know but—oh my God. The bones cracking…the blood. How can you stand it?”
She shrugged again. “Grew up around a rough older brother and a lot of boy cousins. What can I say?” That was true. Kylie had no girl cousins. She had her brother Tate, and Manny, plus four other male first cousins. “Hun, do you just wanna go home? You look really sick and I can tell you don’t want to be here.”
