Take Me On

Please, God, no.

My body rocks forward as my feet become concrete. It’s the guy from the shopping plaza. He’s fighting them. Three shadows spar against the headlights; a hellish dogfight of arms, fists, legs, grunts and growls. They’re all the same height, but I know which one’s him. He’s thicker. More muscular. He’s a scrapper, but he’s going to lose.

Two against one.

My chest rises and falls and I glance down the street, toward my uncle’s house, toward relative safety. I’m minutes away from curfew, I’ve got my father’s prescription in my grasp, but leaving a guy behind—it’s not how I was raised.

Knowing this has the potential to end extremely badly for me, I switch directions to join the fight.





West

Son of a bitch.

My head turns as the bastard with the black hoodie sucker punches me in the jaw. Blood pours from my lip, but I ignore it and the pain as I ram my fist into his stomach. He goes down, but it’s not him that has me worried.

I spin to the left, but I’m too late. The asshole with the winter coat, the guy who’s schooled on how to fight, he’s back on his feet after I busted him in the nuts. The psychopath grins as he nears me. He rubs a spot on his forehead and widens his stance, just like I’ve seen pay-per-view fighters do in the ring.

My fists go up, but my muscles are heavy. Two fights in one day and taking on two guys at once. I could almost laugh. Guess I’ve learned my hard limit. We round each other and I try to keep an eye on the guy still on the ground.

We circle.

Slowly.

Shit. This kid’s a fighter. A real one. And something tells me he’s not going to make the mistake of letting me kick him in the balls again.

He flashes toward me at lightning speed. Two rapid-fire punches from the left. My body sways and my vision becomes fuzzy. I swing out, sensing he’s close, but I miss.

A hit from the right—mind-shattering, blinding pain—and I fall to the ground. Rocks dig into my knees and warmth rushes to the area near my eye. Everything wavers. My thoughts. My sight. A metallic taste floods my mouth and I grab on to one thought.

“Is she gone?” I ask. “Did she get away?”

This can’t be in vain.

I couldn’t protect Rachel. I couldn’t stop Gavin from pursuing his addiction. I couldn’t stop Dad from placing everything else first. I couldn’t stop Mom from having an affair, from finding a way out. But I can do this. I can protect her. I need redemption.

He stands over me, and through one eye I see yellowish hair and dark eyes fixed on me. “Don’t worry,” he says. “I know where to find Haley.”

Haley. Pretty name for a pretty girl. I try to breathe, but my lungs cramp up. I glance at him one last time, knowing there’s no mercy rule with this kid. “Mind leaving the car?”

“Sure.”

Yeah. It’ll be gone before I peel myself off the concrete. I plant my foot on the ground and the world rotates. Fuck, I’m screwed. I lift my head and chuckle when I notice blood trickling near his mouth. “I nailed the fighter.”

He pulls his arm back and the world goes black.

*

“Please be breathing!” A familiar voice calls me from the darkness. A feminine voice. A beautiful voice. Soft fingers brush against my forehead and I suck in air. Pain slices through my chest—breathing is bad.

“Please wake up. I didn’t go through this for you to be dead.”

“It’s okay, Rachel,” I mumble. Her tone, a mixture of torture and agony, scrapes at my soul. It’s the same tone Rachel had when she felt I had betrayed her. “I’m sorry.”

The cold fingers touching my head pause. Why isn’t she warm?

“Oh, thank God. You’re alive.”

The voice is familiar, but not Rachel’s. I fight the fog and force consciousness and every muscle screams as I stretch.

“I’m awake.” Not what I meant to say. I meant to ask if she was okay. At the moment, brain and mouth aren’t connected. My mind’s jumbled; a scattered mess as I try to sort out why I fell asleep, why I’m in pain, why it’s cold, why my bed’s hard—

“You scared the crap out of me. I thought you were dead.”

—why there’s a girl in my bed wondering if I’m dead. I pry my eyes open and successfully free one. There’s three of her at first and, through blinking, she slowly evolves into one. “I know you.”

On her knees, Haley hovers near me. Behind her, my car sits, still running. The headlights highlight a couple of blond strands in her light brown hair.

“Why did you follow me?” she demands. “All you had to do was act like we were still talking. But no, you call out after me, then look to where I was heading. Why not skywrite I had bolted for the neighborhood?”

She’s trembling. I reach out and rest my hand on her wrist. The skin beneath my own is ice. “You’re cold.”

“So are you. You’re probably in shock.”