Beautiful PRICK

by Kenzie, Sophia

  It feels like everything is happening in slow motion as I watch the girl with the white sports bra and tiny black shorts run toward me, pull back her fist, and then extend it straight at my face. My cheek takes the brunt of her knuckles, and I fall to the ground.

  The bell rings.

  My first MMA match is over.

  I’m not used to losing. I don’t do anything unless I’m one hundred percent sure that I’m ready and can win. Why was this so different? What did I do wrong?

  I can feel blood dripping down my face, but I don’t care. I just want to get out of there. I don’t want to see or talk to anyone. I really don’t want to face Johnny.

  I hear him calling for me, I hear him gain on his approach, but I keep up my steady pace, pushing through the crowd. I wipe the streaming blood onto my arm and throw my now bruised body into the double doors, finding myself in the maze of a hallway.

  I start to run. At first I don’t know what toward, but I run: through the maze, through the metal door, past the bouncer, under the flickering light, and to my car.

  This can’t be it. This can’t be how my day ends. I needed this to go well. I needed to prove to myself that I was ready to face my fear and move on with my life. A part of me thought that if I could win this match, I’d be one step closer. If I could get closure on this era of my life, I’d be that much more prepared for the next.

  But if I can’t beat this girl, how will I focus on Juan? If I can’t focus on Juan, how will I beat Juan. If if I can’t beat Juan, how will I be able to focus on my pitch meeting with Josh?

  Focus.

  Exactly. When I realized Johnny was watching, I lost focus. I could have won, had it not been for him.

  As I sit behind the wheel of my car with my hand wrapped around the key, I remind myself that I could allow the tears to fall, or I could do something.

  After all, the day isn’t yet over, and there’s still one thing I can do to redeem it. I know Johnny isn’t watching this time.

  Suddenly, I know exactly what I’m running toward.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  My heart beats faster and faster as I approach my final destination. I’ve driven past this spot a hundred times since the incident, never once seeing the same group of guys, but for some reason, I know tonight will be different.

  Tonight, it has to be different.

  I pull over two blocks away and put my car in park. After one too many deep breaths, I finally shake off my fear and step onto the curb.

  It’s late, dark, and quiet. But I continue on, knowing I have something to prove. If I can make this happen, I can finally move on. I won’t be scared anymore.

  A chill runs up my spine a split second before I hear his raspy voice.

  “Back for more, are you, sweetheart?” My mouth opens, and I let out a quick shiver.

  I have to do this. I’m here. I can’t turn back now.

  I slowly spin over my shoulder, plastering a giant smile on my face. “That I am.” I take another deliberate breath. “That I am.”

  I’m grabbed from behind, but it doesn’t startle me, as it should. Instead, I whip my head back, head butting him, and forcing my attacker to drop his grip and stumble backwards. I don’t stop there, I flip around, quickly placing my hands on his shoulders and kneeing him in the crotch. He falls to the ground, momentarily paralyzed by my assault. My foot cradles his neck, and I raise my eyebrows at him, threatening to give him my weight. His hands go up, offering surrender, but I don’t get to enjoy it for long.

  There’s a hand on my shoulder, which twists me back in the opposite direction. I’m ready for his swing, and duck before he makes contact with my face. I use the momentum from my deep squat to spring me back up, and I give him a swift uppercut to the chin.

  Luckily I manage, out of no devising of my own, to make him bite his tongue in the process. He throws out some expletives before ultimately letting someone else have their shot.

  The two remaining minions come at me at once, tossing around some jokes about double-teaming me. I swiftly shoot myself down, aiming my shoulder for the one guy’s shins, which surprisingly is all it takes to knock him on his back. But that act gave the other one enough time to come at me from behind and put me in a chokehold. He flexes his bicep, attempting to cut off my air supply, but I push my chin down, blocking his arm from making direct contact with my neck.

  I try to calculate the possibility of twisting out of his hold, but in the moment, it seems way easier to stomp my heel into the top of his foot. Much to my disappointment, it has the opposite effect. The sheer unexpected pain causes him to instead bring me in tighter, rather than releasing me. I try again, but he’s prepared this time, and keeps moving his foot before I can throw my heel down upon it.

  The three guys I have already taken down are slowly starting to make it back to their feet. I’m afraid if they all jump on me at once, I’ll be lost in my own, unsuccessful fantasy.

  But for some reason, I’m not scared.

  I’m not scared, at least, until Juan holds the guys back and announces that it’s his turn. He instructs the man who currently has his arm tightly wrapped around my neck to hold me still while he assesses his opponent. I put on a strong face, but inside, I start to freak out.

  There is a very real chance that I could die in the next few minutes, or at least wind up badly beaten. Suddenly, everything has changed. It has become real. What the hell was I thinking? What point was I trying to make? Did I really think I could take on five guys at once? I doubt even Johnny could do that.

  Okay, I’m sure he could. But, I’m no Johnny. I’m a writer. I write comedy. I don’t beat up guys in back alleys.

  In an instant, everything I have been fighting for as of late loses every ounce of meaning. I don’t want this. I don’t need this type of violence in my life. I’ve learned my lesson, and won’t be taking any more middle of the night walking excursions through Hollywood.

  Okay, my new proclamation is all well and good, but first I need to figure out how to get out of this mess… if it’s possible to get out of this mess.

  “Are you following me, sweet thing?” Juan coos, right in my face. His breath is sour, and causes me to wince. “Because, I believe this is the fourth time I’ve seen your pretty face.”

  Well, he can count. That’s a plus for him.

  “Let me go!” I don’t address him directly, but fight to be freed from his groupie’s grip.

  Juan smiles at his crony and instructs him to do as I say. I know it’s some sort of trick, so I don’t jump away as soon as I’m released. Instead, I shake his stink off of me and casually step to the side, where I can see them both. When I’m satisfied that neither of them are about to jump me, I confidently nod to them and announce that I’m leaving. I know it’s not going to be that simple, but it’s worth a shot.

  Juan throws out his arm, stopping me. “Yeah, that’s not happening.”

  Damn.

  I’m up against the wall, my arms pinned above me, and he has his leg twisted through my shins, rendering me immobile.

  “Squirm for me.” He moans into my neck.

  I don’t give him the satisfaction of seeing how disgusted I am by him. I know I can’t overpower his hold; any fighting will only tire me out. If I’m going to get out of this mess, I need to do it the smart way.

  I just have no idea what the smart way is.

  “I said squirm for me!” He barks, spitting his words all over my face as he tightens his grip around my wrists.

  Angered by my lack of response, he reaches into his back pocket with his free hand, and produces a knife. I feel my pulse instantly spike as the blade flashes in the moonlight.

  “What are you… what are you doing?” I sputter, losing all sense of power.

  “Well,” he gleams at his weapon, “although I know I could crush you with my bare hands, you seem to be forgetting that. I figured this would be a helpful reminder.”

  I try to hold back the tears, but their cascading has
already begun.

  His smile is instant, and he brings his lips to my cheek. His tongue glides up my face, following the trail made by my tears. “Mmm, salty.” He whispers. “See, that’s all I wanted: fear.”

  He commands his guys to help keep me pinned to the wall, to which they quickly respond with acceptance. Each underling is now responsible for a single one of my limbs, and Juan takes a step back.

  “I’m going to slap you now.” He warns.

  It hurts, and out of pure surprise, I scream out.

  “Now I’m going to choke you.”

  The play by play somehow makes the whole thing worse. Knowing what is about to happen and not being capable of stopping it is perhaps the hardest thing I have ever done in my entire life.

  I’m sure he’s not finished playing with me, so I doubt the next act will be my end, but knowing that his hands are about to be around my neck puts everything in perspective.

  This isn’t meant to be my life. I made a mistake, and there’s no one to blame but myself. If I somehow make it out of here alive, I’m running straight to Johnny’s. I’m going to tell him how I really feel about him: how I’ve always felt about him. I’m going to tell him that I can’t do the casual sex thing anymore, and I’m sorry for pretending that I was that (kind of) person.

  I’m going to tell him that I know he can tap dance.

  His hands tighten around my neck, and I try so terribly not to panic. I know it will only make me need more breath than is absolutely necessary. I try to calm myself, allowing my eyes to close and my mind to go somewhere else. It’s plain to see that when I seem unfazed by him, he backs off his attack.

  But right now, he’s not.

  He’s still squeezing, and breathing is becoming harder. My head feels light, and although I try to hang on, I know it’s only a matter of seconds before I pass out. My eyes have closed completely, and I am unable to open them. It’s a strange feeling, one of being completely relaxed, and yet completely vulnerable.

  Through the fog, I hear… I hear…

  I’m on the ground. His hand is gone from my neck, and my limbs are no longer bound. I take a second to regain consciousness, but a second is not enough. I shake my head, trying to bring myself back to reality.

  I’m off the ground again. I’m in his arms. His arms.

  “Johnny?” I squeak. My throat is sore, and my voice is raspy.

  “I have you, Caroline. I have you.”

  My eyes finally come into focus, and I’m staring directly into the darkness of his. It’s magical.

  “Can you stand?” He quickly questions.

  My limbs are tingling, but I’m sure they’re fine to hold me up. “I think so.”

  “Great. I’m leaning you up against a wall.”

  He slowly sets me down, making sure I’m stable before he turns back, just in time to punch the guy running straight for him.

  The fight has escalated, and in the darkness, I only see bodies flying this way and that. Johnny kicks one of the guys square in the gut, sending him back to crash against the wall before he falls, writhing, to the ground. He now has Juan in a chokehold while another jumps on his back.

  “Caroline! Run!” He calls to me. “Now. Run!”

  This is my chance. I can save myself. I can get away from this stupidity. I can…

  I cannot leave Johnny alone to clean up a mess that I made.

  So I don’t run. Instead, I gather my strength and grab the ankles of the guy still hanging off of Johnny’s back. I use all my might to twist him, and then I twist again, until he’s forced to relinquish his grip. He falls to the ground, banging his head on the pavement. I lower to him, digging my knee into his chest, and just for the sake of it, I grab his hair and give him another dose of a head bang to the ground. This jolts him, and I use the opportunity to rise up and swiftly kick him in the ribs, just like they did to me.

  I’m sure now, that this guy is no longer an issue, so I look up to see how Johnny is faring. He has Juan by the neck, and is dangling him in the air. Juan tries to kick, but Johnny is holding him far enough away that his short legs are nowhere near Johnny’s body. With a quick nod to me, to make sure I’m paying attention, Johnny tosses him to the ground. Juan groans, trying to roll over, but I rush to his side and kneel down next to him.

  He’s fairly incapacitated, as is the rest of his crew, and I know for sure that if I truly wanted to hurt him, this is my shot.

  But I’m hurting. And I’m tired. And honestly, I’m so over it.

  So instead, I lie down on the ground next to Juan, resting my face inches from his.

  And I smile.

  “I think I proved my point.” I whisper.

  I take a few more breaths, allowing him to look into the eyes of the person who ultimately brought him to his knees. Someone had to do it. It might as well have been me.

  With some help from Johnny, of course.

  Johnny is on the phone with the police station, explaining what had happened (leaving out the minor detail that I may have started the whole thing), and telling them that there are five men in need of medical attention. He gives the cross streets, and then his own address, saying that we are heading back there, so if anyone needs to take our statement, that is where we’ll be.

  Deep down, he’s a pretty good-hearted guy.

  I roll onto my back and lift my hands into the air, asking for Johnny to help me up. He does, and then goes a step further by tossing me into his arms.

  “Are you okay?”

  I just nod. I have so much I want to say to him, I have so much I want to apologize for, but right now, I just want to bury my face in his chest and cry.

  So I do.

  As we climb the few steps to his building, I hear the police sirens in the distance. Neither of us says a word, or even acknowledges that I’m still crying into his chest.

  He softly places me down on the couch, and I expect him to sit down next to me and hold me. Right now, it’s really the only thing I want in the whole wide world.

  But he doesn’t. He stays standing above me, and the face he’s making… well, he’s not happy.

  “You better have a fucking good reason for that show you just put on.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  “What the hell do you think you were doing, Caroline? Trying to get yourself killed?” He continues to chastise me, and I continue to take it. “And without any help? Five full-grown men. Five, Caroline. What are you: like a hundred and thirty pounds soaking wet? You have to be fucking kidding me.” Now he’s pacing. “What if I hadn’t shown up? What if I didn’t know exactly where you were going? You’d be lying in a ditch somewhere. You know that, right?” He waits for me to respond, but I assume it’s rhetorical. Of course I know that: it’s practically how I was when he showed up. “Tell me you know that, Caroline.”

  I quickly nod, trying desperately to stop the tears still streaming down my face. “I know that.”

  “So I have to assume that’s what you wanted. You wanted to die.”

  “No.” I quickly stop him. “I didn’t. It was stupid.”

  “Hell yes, it was stupid. Probably the stupidest thing anyone has done in the history of stupid things.”

  I know he’s right, but I can’t handle it any longer. Too many things are rushing through my mind. Too much has happened. I need a break from it all.

  “Stop it!” I scream, finding my balance as I stand up from the couch. “Stop talking to me as if I’m a child. I made a mistake.”

  “A mistake?” He starts to laugh. “No, Caroline, that wasn’t a mistake. That was suicide. You don’t commit suicide by mistake.”

  “That was not my intention!” I try to defend myself, but I know my ground is weak. “I just needed to prove something.”

  “To whom?” He shakes his head.

  “To myself.” I break down. “I had to prove to myself that I am not weak. But I couldn’t. And yet again, you had to come to my rescue. And I hate it. I hate it so much. I hate that I can’t take c
are of myself. And you know what’s even worse? As he was standing there, with his hands wrapped around my neck, I finally realized I didn’t care anymore. I realized that was stupid, and in that entire time, I hadn’t learned the lesson that was meant for me to learn. But in that moment, I did.” I don’t care that tears are now spilling onto the ground. It’s all coming out, and I don’t care what he knows. “I don’t need to be able to beat up five guys. I know that now. And I can try to apologize, but for what? It’s over. And yet, you keep yelling at me, and there’s nothing I can do because the stupid thing is done. It’s over, Johnny. And I love you. And I’m sorry that you had to come to my rescue, and I hate that I put you through that, and I don’t have any idea why you continue to do so, but it’s over. It won’t happen again. I’m finished.”