Atlas Grove, once a dancer with dreams of dancing under the stars, now lives petrified in the shadows of abuse. To escape her living nightmare she must keep her head down and work hard, being her senior year this is her last chance to get out. Altho...
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"Hey, kid." I turn my head quickly behind me as I reach the bottom step of the stairs to the gym. Sweat coats my body, my black hair plastered to my forehead, I've tried to shake it out but it seems well and truly stuck. My inked biceps move to push it off my face the cool night's breeze floating across the newly vacated space. The guy lurking under the stars stalks closer the tip of his cigarette hanging out of his mouth again, the cherry glow bright against his black suit. I groan inwardly and start to walk away. "Hey, I'm talking to you." He doesn't sound activated, just amused.
"No shit." I huff heading towards the area my car's parked in.
"You thought about what I said last time." His grave voice, thick with the remnants of tar sounds along the quiet street. The silence hangs between us, his footsteps flowing at a slower pace than mine. "Well?"
What does he want me to say? Yes, I've thought about your offer and how good it would be to be back in a ring, underground. The pain sitting at street level and nothing on my mind except how to keep it there by getting myself battered and bruised, close to cutting the other guys' circulation off.
Despite what she did and the way things were left there's still that bit of me that wants to do right for Atlas, and myself. I've come a long way and that kind of life sickens me now to think about. The vile person I was. But what's the saying... A leopard never changes its spots. There's that tug that fills in the cavity the loneliness leaves, the only way I was taught to deal with pain set rooted in my brain.
"Ahh," He drawls, " I knew you'd done this before. You have thought about it." His footsteps stop and his chuckle rockets into the now contaminated air, " Come on son, you must miss it. The feeling of blood slick under your feet, the admiration of the mighty"
"That's not what I miss," I mumble thinking of her face, her pale skin and does eyes captured by her blonde locks. I miss the way of blocking out the pain. I used to fight underground for my dad, for that inch of pride or love I craved for. She gave me that and the feeling of being loved for love is better than craving the pride of a man who only wants you for his gains.
"Sure not kid, listen... I presume you've still got my card. Give me a call and I'm sure we can set something up... or I can keep waiting out here in the cold. Your schedule is pretty predictable by this point." Chills run down my spine. I turn to see him, a better view of his face in the moonlight. It's almost familiar but the files in my brain refuse to acknowledge he's anyone I've ever met.
"Is that a threat?" His throaty laugh hits me in the chest, caving a dark hole in my lungs.
"It's an opportunity." I glare at him until the smirk slides off his face with a sigh, he pushes off the bannister and stalks closer. Fag butt dropped from his pale lips. "Listen. I've had my eye on you for a few years... well my men have. I've been... pre-occupied for a few years and now I'm back to sort everything out. I've seen what you did in New York."
