Page 2 of The Fight For Survival

"Goodbye."

Kane

It'sbeenfiveyears.Five brutally long fucking years since I left home, leaving my heart along with it. I still wake up in a sweat some nights, yearning for the warm bodies I used to sleep next to when life at home got too much. I dream about the girl I gave my heart to, her long silky red hair, the comforting smell of her neck I just loved to bury my face into. Her scent was intoxicating and so damn addictive. Her eyes, green like emeralds, would often take my breath away when they landed on me.

I'd like to think that the part of my soul that hasn't been tainted by my life's trauma and misery belongs to her.And him,a voice whispers in my mind. That same voice that speaks to me anytime I think about my dirty desires for the man I can never have.

Should never want.

Cade was my best friend. The only best friend I would ever have. He got me through countless days when life would become unbearable. When you are beaten at regular intervals, you get used to it. Take the beating, clean yourself up and hope that tomorrow will be better.

It was the days when my father would take me to his friends' house where so much more than a beating would happen that I wished for death. I would be curled up on the shower floor, hoping I would pass out and somehow drown from the jets of the showerhead.

Cade would always leave his bedroom window unlocked for me. I would dry off, throw some clothes on and run to him. Bloody and broken, he would wrap me in his arms, bandage me up and let me stay the night.

He never knew it was all from my father. I beat my frustrations out on school bullies, so he just thought I had gotten into another fight.

I wasn't an aggressive kid, all things considered, but I wasn't one to sit and watch others get beat on. I knew what that shit was like, and I refused to watch it go on in front of me. I'd fight for them. The kids who couldn't stand up for themselves.

It was easy to let Mia and Cade think the marks came from that. At least it made me sound like a hero instead of the weak, pathetic boy that I was. No, they never knew the truth. And they never would.

"Kane! Jesus, where did you go, man? You zoned out."

I'm dragged out of my thoughts by my friend, Damon.

I was sitting on the gym bench, taking a break from sparring, when my good friend announced where my next fight would be.

"Sorry, but did I hear you right? Did yousay my next fight is in Bellevue inSeattle?" I stare at him in disbelief. Maybe I was just imagining the words spewing from his mouth, causing what feels like cement to sit in the bottom of my stomach.

"Because you know I'm going to knock you the fuck out if that's what you said."

That familiar feeling weighed me down. A feeling I haven't felt for a long time now.Fear. The need to take my anxiety out on his face was riding me hard. An urgency to take back the control I feel slipping away from me.

Why must he do this to me?

I met Damon about a year after I left home and moved to Houston, Texas. I was taking all my frustrations out on a punching bag. Undisciplined and angry, I hit the sack over and over again, causing my knuckles to bleed and my arms and shoulders to ache with the impact. He came up to me and tapped me on the shoulder. I turned around, snarling, barely having time to take in his 6 foot 2, well-toned body. Or his dark brown hair that he liked to keep long on top slicked back and buzzed at the sides, his eyes more hazel than brown.

I didn't have time to do that because he punched me right in the fucking eye and smiled,smiled!. Then shrugged his shoulders, "Sorry, man, but you looked like you needed that."

I looked at him thinking he was a crazy motherfucker. Wiping the blood from my busted eyebrow, I rolled my shoulders and hit him back. Which felt really fucking good. We've been inseparable ever since.

He has become my manager in a way. Organizing my fights, getting my name out there, and teaching me the self-control that I lacked. He's a good friend. I would say best friend if I didn't have that spot reserved for someone else.

Damon is twenty-five, making him two years older than me, though that definitely doesn't make him wiser.

"Yes, Kane, I said Bellevue as inSeattle," Damon responds with a sigh as if I was causinghimproblems. Sorry, but did I just completely turn your world upside down with one sentence? No, because I'm thegoodfriend, I internally rant.

Taking a seat on the bench beside me, he continues. "Look, I know this isn't what you wanted to hear, but It's done. The bosses of this particular fight club requestedyou. That's a big fucking deal, man. It's one of the biggest known underground fight clubs in America! We can't turn shit like that down, so deal with it."

I run a frustrated hand down my face and throw my towel on the mat. The slap as it landed was loud in the empty room. Bellevue is only a town over from my hometown Hollow's Crook. Not even a half-hour drive away.

Too close.

"Fuck D, why are you doing this to me? You know why I left home, and now you think I'm just going back like it's that fucking easy."

That's not entirely true. Damon only knows part of the reason why I left home. "Look, Kane, I know you don't want to hear this, but I'm going to say it anyway," he puts a friendly hand on my shoulder like he knows I'm about to bail on him any second. The contact makes me flinch where my tensions are high.

He either doesn't notice or ignores it continuing, "It's been five years, man. You need to face your demons. The only way that will happen is if you go home. Fuck your father. You won't see him anyway. We'll only be there for two nights. Prove to yourself that he doesn't hold the chains around your neck anymore. You are not the same kid that left, Kane. Are you forgetting you are a badass, scary as fuck underground fighter now who could take on ten of your father? You've got this," he finishes with a punch to my arm, making me scoff.