by York, Marie
Girls begged for my attention. Would do anything to get it, and for the first time, I actually was willing to give it to a girl, and she tells me to forget about her. Forget about her? I fucking wished.
She was in my head, and no matter how hard I tried to rid myself of her, I couldn’t. She had taken up permanent residence, and it was driving me fucking mad. I didn’t even know who I was anymore.
I had a fight in a week, and that should’ve been my main focus, my only focus, but no. I couldn’t focus on anything other than Brooklyn. Those goddamned fuck me eyes of hers, and those tits. My God, they should come with fucking warning labels. They were lethal to my mind. All I could think about was them, that ass, and every curve of her body.
It wasn’t just her body, though. She was the only girl that stood up to me. Who wouldn’t take my shit or let me seduce her. Even though I had never seen her look more broken than I did as I pulled up earlier, and when she said goodbye to me, it was the strongest I’d ever seen her. She had so many confusing layers, and it was something I could relate to.
Nobody had ever understood me, but it took Brooklyn all of ten seconds to figure me out. She wasn’t blinded by my charm, she saw right through it, and straight to the man beneath it. She may not have peeled back all the layers, but she knew they were there, and that was further than anyone else had ever gotten.
I ran my hands through my hair as my pace quickened. This feeling inside me was like nothing I’d ever felt before and I didn’t know how to make it go the fuck away. Finally, I made my way to the bag and struck it with all that I had, but I felt nothing. I was numb to the one thing that always made me feel alive. I hit it again, searching for the pleasure it brought me, but I was completely dead on the inside, void of the high that I continually thrived on.
“Fuck!” I yelled, my voice echoing across the large space. I spun away from the bag, and started pacing again, but this time I extended the distance before turning back around. I passed the locker room and I thought about the box of spiders that I had opened earlier in the day. So much had happened between then that it seemed like a fucking lifetime ago.
The words on the card resonated in my mind. Fear is a powerful thing.
I never knew fear. I hated spiders, possibly feared them, but I suddenly realized that this feeling coursing through me was exactly that. Brooklyn just walked out of my life and back to the man that didn’t think twice about raising his hand to her. What if she was serious? What if I was to never see her again? Or worse. What if no one was to ever see her again?
Her husband bruised her, and from what I could gather, it was a pretty common occurrence. What if he was like me and couldn’t control the anger? But instead of taking it out on a bag or in a ring, he took all that rage out on her. If no one was there to stop him…
I grabbed my keys, and ran out of the building. I didn’t give two shits if she told me to never go to her apartment again. I was going and this time, I wasn’t leaving without her. I needed to protect her. Needed to know that he couldn’t lay a single hand on her ever again.
Because… Fuck. I loved her and it was time she knew I wasn’t going anywhere. If that bastard wanted to fight me for her, I’d show him what it was like to get his ass beat.
Chapter 22
Brooklyn
Light filtered through my eyes and I wondered if this was what death felt like, if the light I was seeing was the light I was supposed to accept and follow. Something heavy weighed down on me, and I assumed it was my life being sucked out of me. Pretty soon, I’d be floating freely above myself, ready to move on to whatever was next.
My eye blinked open and I realized the weight was nothing otherworldly. It was Karl on top of me. With determination and purpose, he yanked my pants down. Reality and the desire to survive smacked back into me. This psychopath knocked me out cold, and he still wanted nothing more than to fuck me. Sick fucking bastard.
His body hovered above me, and I stared into his eyes, trying to reach the decent person inside, the one I fell in love with. But he was gone. There was no soul to be found. He lost that a long time ago. All I saw were eyes, filled with so much rage and hatred. He seemed almost inhuman, and I knew with that realization, that I needed to fight for my life. I was done being his punching bag. I needed to take back the control he exerted over me. I dug deep, willing myself to be strong. I felt him grab his cock, and I knew what was coming. He was going to rape me, and I would not let that happen.
Not again. Not anymore.
I had to accept the fact that one of us might not make it out alive, but it was a risk I was willing to take. Nixon’s words floated into my head. As long as you keep your arms extended, no matter how big the other person is, you can pretty much hold them up.
Instinctively, I threw my arms up, smacking them into Karl’s shoulders as he leaned into me. A vicious evil glare clouded his eyes as he pushed toward me, but no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t get at me. It was working, and I refused to bend my arms to give him any leverage. If only I could just remember what to do next? Shit. We never got that far because he kissed me, and I freaked out. I thought of all the things Nixon taught me and I went with instinct. He told me to trust my gut, and right now, I was putting all of my trust into it. I placed my feet on Karl’s thighs, and pushed just as I grabbed his arms. He leaned up, my hands sliding with him as they went to his wrists. He sat up, putting his face right in front of my feet. I began to kick as hard as I could, delivering blow after blow, until he finally broke free and got up. It gave me enough time to get off the floor before he came back at me.
I had never fought back, and I wasn’t sure how long he would let this go on, but what I did know was that I wasn’t going down easily. Not this time. For so long, I let him control me. Hurt me. Let him manipulate me to think that I was worthless and that no one would ever want me. He latched onto my insecurities and turned them into mountains I couldn’t look past.
Nixon changed all that. I finally began to look over the mountains because he gave me the tools to fight back. He empowered me with knowledge and ignited a fire in me that made me want to take back control of my life. I thought running away was a mistake when Karl found me, and turned me back into that sad pathetic girl he could control, but it was the best thing I had ever done.
Now after all the years of enduring Karl’s abuse, and listening to his taunts about being fat and worthless, making me think that I was ugly and stupid it was time to put an end to it all.
Thought after thought flashed in and out of my head, churning the simmering hatred I felt toward him into a blazing fire of rage. All the beatings, cuts, bruises, broken bones and black eyes I suffered through. For what? A few rare words of kindness. A fuck that was more pain than pleasure.
I wasn’t pathetic. He was. He had done more heinous acts than some of the worst criminals, yet he got to walk freely because of who his daddy was. He should’ve been thrown in jail years ago for all that he’d done.
“You fucking bitch,” he barked as he swiped a finger across the blood pouring out of his nose. “You’re going to pay.”
My world turned black, but this time it wasn’t because he knocked me out cold. No, this time it was because the years of anger and hatred boiled to the surface tainting any good that was left in me. A fury brewed deep inside of me and I let it. I started embracing it. Feeding on it.
He deserved to pay for everything he did to me. To feel the pain, the fear of not knowing if he was taking his last breaths, everything. He always said the only way to escape him was over his dead body, well, I was willing to drive a knife through his chest if it meant I could finally be free of him.
Karl stood across the room his eyes fixated on me, but all I could see was a disgusting excuse for a human being. I wasn’t going to pay. He was, or I would die trying.
I stared back at him, showing no mercy to his threatening glare.
Game on, asshole.
Chapter 23
Nixon
I didn’t have a plan other than getting Brooklyn out of that apartment and safe into mine. Whatever happened from point A to point B I would just have to deal with. Luckily, I thrived on the unexpected.
I ran up the stairs and down the hall that would lead me to her. The old hag from across the hall peered out with a phone pressed to her ear. When she saw me, she quickly shut the door and I heard the sound of a chain lock sliding into place.
“Brooklyn!” I yelled as I banged on the door, but there was no answer. “Dammit, Brooklyn, I know you’re in there. Open the fucking door.”
All that greeted me was silence. I reached for the knob and tried my luck. To my surprise the door clicked open. I shoved in ready to attack, but came to a screeching halt.
Sirens blared in the distance, but all I could focus on was Brooklyn’s husband sprawled out on the floor. His lifeless eyes staring in my direction as Brooklyn kneeled over him holding a bloody knife.
Blood dripped from the knife that Brooklyn grasped so tightly, and even though I was seeing it as clear as fucking day, I couldn’t believe it. My brain refused to process it.
I always sensed Brooklyn was a fighter, but not a killer. That wasn’t her. She might have set herself free from that low life piece of shit, but the burden of his death was something she’d have to live with for the rest of her life. I only hoped the kind-hearted girl I knew and grew to love was capable of accepting her role in such a heinous act.
Guilt was a powerful thing, capable of tearing apart the strongest of people. Brooklyn possessed an incredible inner strength. Surviving God knows how many years of abuse at the hand of the now dead bastard on the floor, and maintaining her dignity and resolve despite it, proved just how strong she was. I just hoped she would be able to hold on to some of that strength to help her get through what was to come.
I went to her, resting my hand on hers. My touch knocked her out of her catatonic state, and her gaze turned to me. Her one eye was a puffy harsh red that was so swollen she couldn’t even open it. I bit back the anger rising inside of me, since the person I wanted to kill was already dead, and focused on her.
I never should have let her go. I should have followed her. Protected her. Instead I let my ego get the best of me.
Her good eye was blank, void of emotion. Darkened by the act she committed, and Karl’s lifeless body beneath her.
“It’s okay,” I promised, taking in the rest of her injuries. I swiped at the blood pouring from her lip, and she winced. The faint beginnings of bruising around her eyes and both cheeks had my stomach twisting in knots.
What the fuck did that bastard do to her? She looked like she’d been through a fucking war. Granted, I had seen worse injuries in the cage, but that’s where they belonged! Not in her fucking kitchen! Seeing Brooklyn battered… it provoked something within me I had never felt before; a raging fury that blinded me.
The bastard was lucky he was dead because, if he wasn’t, I would’ve drove that knife through his heart so fucking fast. “Just let go,” I said, not thinking, and only wanting to rid Brooklyn of this nightmare.
Her grip loosened, and I took the knife from her. I reached up, tucking one of her many curls behind her ear and taking her in. Examining her more closely, not exactly sure what I was looking for, but needing to know she wasn’t critically injured. “I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner,” I said, wishing so badly that I had.
Regrets were for pussies. At least, that’s what I always believed, until now.
I never should have let her walk away from me. I should’ve stopped her, instead of saying those awful things. I saw the bruises with my own goddamned eyes. What other proof did I need? Her split lip, the swollen eye, the bruises, every single mark he put on her tonight, was my fault.
She stepped away from my touch, and stood up, backing away. Panic washed over her face with each step she took. Her hands planted themselves over her mouth as her eyes widened in shock. “What did I do?” she whispered, as her body pressed against the wall, and she slumped to the floor. She rocked back and forth, her hands shaking uncontrollably.
The body wasn’t going anywhere. We would deal with it later. Right now, Brooklyn needed me, and this time, I wasn’t walking away.
I went to get up and go to her when the door flew open, and several guns pointed at my head. I looked down at the dead bastard, and up to the knife, dripping wet in fresh blood, secured in my hand. This did not look good. Not good at all.
Fuck.
“Drop your weapon,” the cop closest to me demanded.
I let the knife fall to the floor and readied myself to stand.
“Put your hands where I can see them. Now!”
I did as the cop said, raising them in front of me. As soon as my hands were in position, the cops moved in, and one grabbed me by the wrists. He spun me around, and my eyes immediately landed on Brooklyn, who now looked even more panicked than before.
Cold metal pressed against my skin as the cop cuffed me. Brooklyn’s nose twitched and she shook her head. I knew exactly what she was thinking, but she didn’t need the added stress of the cops questioning her right now. I knew it was self-defense, but stupid me grabbed the knife from her, so for now let them fucking think I did it. I couldn’t stand the thought of her being cuffed and hauled out of here like a criminal.
If anything, she was a hero for disposing the world of a useless asshole who served no real purpose on this earth. I mouthed, “don’t say a word” but she looked at me and shook her head no. I glared at her, trying to make her bend to my will, but all that seemed to do was piss her off.
She stood up and started shouting at the cops. “Why are you cuffing him? He didn’t do anything! It was me! I killed the bastard! He tried to kill me! Look at me,” she kept yelling. “Look what he fucking did to me.”
“I can see you are hurt ma’am,” the cop offered. “But he had the knife in his hand. How do we know you’re not trying to cover up for him?”
“I don’t believe this. Are you guys fucking blind?” Look at him he doesn’t have a scratch on him. I’m telling you he didn’t do it. I want you to take the cuffs off him and put them on me instead,” she insisted.
“Brooklyn! Please don’t say anything else. This is not getting us anywhere. You need to trust me on this,” I pleaded with her.
“No!” she screamed.
“Let’s go.” The cop shoved me forward as I locked eyes with her.
She began to say something, but her face turned white and I watched as her eyes rolled back in her head just before she fell to the floor. I saw it coming, but I couldn’t stop it. I couldn’t catch her before she hit the floor because of these fucking cuffs. I tried to force my way out of them, but it was no use. “She needs a fucking ambulance,” I yelled. “Call a goddamned ambulance!”
“Calm down, sir. The ambulance is on its way,” the cop said to me as he shoved me out the door and down to the waiting police car.
Chapter 24
Nixon
My fists clenched under the table while the douchebag investigator tried to get me to talk. I didn’t care how long he planned on keeping up his tough guy charade. I wasn’t saying a fucking word. I already told him that after he wouldn’t tell me how Brooklyn was. You think he would’ve shut his fucking mouth at this point. Nope. He just kept on going. The one thing about life as a champion fighter was that you never lost focus, no matter how hard your opponent tried to make you. Still, it didn’t mean I didn’t want to jump across the table, and bloody the fuck out of this guy.
I knew he knew where Brooklyn was, and the fact that he wouldn’t tell me, was driving me mad. It was as if he wanted me to hit him. Fucking moron. Didn’t he know one punch would have him laid out?
He loosened his tie and stood up, clearly annoyed his scare tactics weren’t working on me. “Nixon, you were caught standing over the body with a knife in your hand. The woman across the hall heard you previously make death threats. Just tell me exactly what happened and we can call it
a night.”
That old bitch across the hall had poked her head out and watched me get taken away. I should’ve known she would gladly talk to anyone who would listen.
I pursed my lips and finally spoke. “I’ll talk when my lawyer’s here. Until then, you’re wasting your fucking time.”
It didn’t keep him from shutting his mouth, but I tuned him out. My mind was barely in the room with me anyway. It was with Brooklyn. The fear in her eyes as I took the knife out of her hands and the realization finally setting in, was haunting me. Before I even had time to comfort her, or take her in my arms and tell her the bastard deserved every stab wound she delivered, the cops barged in and had me in cuffs.
And then she collapsed, and there was nothing I could fucking do. I didn’t even know if she was okay. The anger simmered inside me, and I cracked each knuckle to try and calm the over-powering rage. I was losing my goddamned mind, and there was no bag for me to punch. No girl to fuck. Not that I would even think of it. Ever since Brooklyn came into my life, sex just hadn’t been the same. The only girl I needed was Brooklyn… if she was even alive.
I saw her, touched her for a brief moment, but who knew how deep and serious her injuries were. Guys walked out of the cage a bloody, battered mess, with hopes to redeem themselves, to only drop dead hours later and never return.
Her opponent was bigger than her, stronger. The force behind his blows… I winced at the thought.
I ran out of knuckles to crack, and was ready to start ripping my hair out when someone poked their head into the room.
The shithead investigator walked over to the woman, and shared a few whispers before returning. “Your lawyer is here,” he said, obviously disappointed he didn’t get me to break first.
Beckham actually came through for me. Not that I doubted he would. As much of an asshole as I’d been to both him and Kennedy, he’d do anything to try and fix his betrayal.
