to survive
The nights that I have to leave, I just sit in my room, staring at the floor. Sometimes I pray that time would stop, just so I wouldn't have to leave. But time, is independent. It's something we can't stop, something we will never be able to stop. So with my small sparks of hope being completely oblitherated and extinguished, I just bow my head and stare at the floor. Vian, who's more like my new best friend than my pet, just sits in front of me. He knows something's up, but he can't figure out what. He probably wonders why his master leaves almost every night, and doesn't return until a couple of hours later, with cuts and bruises covering his body, along with the scent of another male. But, I just put on a fake smile, like I always do, and reach my hand out to pet the top of his head. I mutter things like "it's ok" and "I'm fine". But I know its a lie.... hell, he knows it's a lie. as the light from my window slowly changes into a bright orange, and the brightness dims, I know it's almost time for me to leave. I stand up, reach for my black, worn out training gloves, slip them on, tell vian that I'll be back, and I leave the safe confines of my house. The location changes every time, they send me a text with a time and address on it, and I follow. The whole walk, my mind is consumed with fear and guilt, and I desperately try to find a way to vent them out. I can't have those kind of distractions, the consequences are fatal. As I approach my destination, I can feel my stomach churning. Its always an abandoned building, or a hidden place, somewhere where the only way you'll find it, is by looking real hard. There's always two people in the front, standing watch. I show them my entry card, and they let me in, everyone else, will have to pay. My time to present myself, is almost upon me. So I prepare myself. I close my eyes, if I have any other emotions besides determination, now is the time to banish them from my mind. I remove my shirt and shoes, and inhale some air, and slowly exhale. Then, one of the overseers come out and call me up. I open my eyes, and proceed towards the door. My ears are flooded with the sounds of cheereing and shouting, mostly profanities being thrown in the air. The ground is nothing but dirt, with a couple of rocks here and there. A vague, huge white circle is drawn, in which I step into. The smell... is utterly disgusting. Mildew fused with persperation, booze, cigerette smoke, and marajuana, make the air almost impossible to inhale. Although this "buisness" is where I earn my money, these people know nothing about me, not even my name. "The kid" is what they call me, because of how young I look. I stand on my side, waiting for my opponent to show up, and eventually, he does. These people, are humongous, almost inhuman. They inject themselves with so much drugs, I doubt if any actual blood runs through their veins. As soon as the crowd sees the comparison in size, they immediatly start betting against me. But I don't care. I just came here to fight, collect my money, and leave. Nothing else. The man in charge steps into the middle of the ring, his smug face full of greed and other bullshit. I hate them, all of them. He introduces both of us, claps his hands....and the match begins. As soon as I hear the clap, time actually DOES seem to slow down. I close my eyes and open them, and everything except for my target, seems to turn into a blur. I can feel my heart beating calmly, and it's the only sound I can hear. All the other fighters are too stupid to think, and that's a huge advantage for me. All they care about is attacking with brute strength, without thinking at all. But I've studied the body, so I know most of its weaknesses. The diaphragm, solar plexus, the two pressure points on both side of the body and neck, the groin and the kidneys. And of course, the larynx, but not too hard.... because he'll die. I always let my opponent strike first, this shows me what he's made of and several openings. He throws a un experienced right jab, and I simply move to the side. He's too slow, so that means if I strike in the right spots the next time he misses, this match is over. Sure enough, he throws a left hook. I simply duck, and I make my move to wrap this up. I ball up both of my fists and straighten myself. Quickly, I smash both of my fists into both of his temporal lobes, this causes him to reach up and grab his head with both hands, leaving his torso completely open. I make my next move. I send.a right uppercut into his solar plexus, and a mere second later, a left uppercut into his diaphragm. This leaves him gasping for air, and severely winded. I step to his side and deliver a kick to the back of his left knee, causing him to drop down to lean on it. With him being in this position, his head is cocked to theleft slightly, exposing the right side of his neck. Time to finish this, I raise my right hand, which is straightened out, and slam it into the exposed pressure point. He stiffs up, and falls to the side. It's over. The man in charge doesn't seem suprised, he's seen me fight. But everyone else, is screaming and yelling, mostly because they lost their money. I know that I'm finished, so as the man walks towards me, I hold out my palm. A wad of cash is deposited, and I turn back into the room where my belongings are. Once o collect my stuff, I quickly head out. I scale up the closest walls and use the rooftops for transportation, well, whatever rooftops that are close enough that I can do parkour on. I'm constantly looking behind me to see if people are following, it's happened before, and I don't want it to happen again. I make it to my small apartment, and I head inside. Vian wakes up from his slumber and rushes towards me, it seems I had forgotten to leave a light on. I kneel down and hug him, apologizing and telling him everything was fine. I never really found out why he was so scared of the darkness, hell, even I have the same phobia from personal life experiences. My winnings is 450$. It used to be 800$, but the man saw how good I was, and the son of a bitch cut it in half. I walk into my bathroom and turn on the shower. I remove my clothing and step in. I scrub the vile smells off of my body, although I wish it could also wash away the guilt and anger that's flooding my head at the time. Guilt and anger.... because I hate hurting people. I hate myself for doing something like this so I can get some fucking rent money. I just want it to end, but I don't know any other way to earn this much money overnight. They keep denying me for jobs because I'm "not in the system". Hell, I didn't even exist in the world until I was sixteen, so no suprise there. Once I'm done, I step out and head for the sink to brush my teeth. Before I do, I look at myself in the mirror. I stare at my copy's face, a clear, snow white scar present on his right eye, which was still a bright, light green color. That scar.... I wish it would just dissapear. It holds too many dark memories. I look directly into both of my copy's eyes, and ask one question. "How much longer will you keep this up"?