disconnected || calum hood

17 | Elizabeth

"Have you talked to him yet?" Amy asked as we strolled from the subway to my apartment. I shook my head, a perplexed expression on my face. "No, Amy, what am I supposed to say? Hey Cal, we followed you to your gym, turns out you do illegal boxing. Cool, here's this month's rent... oh, and by the way, we saw you fighting with some guy, you beat the living shit out of him, and yeah, no biggie." I said, adding, "It's not exactly a conversation starter."

I hadn't talked to Calum in a couple of days now. I stayed at Amy's for a day or so, was hiding in my own bedroom, made up excuses that I was busy with uni in the library all day, or just told him I wasn't feeling well. The truth was, I didn't know how to approach the situation with him. How could I just casually bring up the fact that we'd been secretly following him and discovered his involvement in illegal boxing matches? It felt like a recipe for disaster.

Despite my avoidance, I missed Calum's presence. We had been close friends for a long time, and now our silence was creating an uncomfortable distance between us

I still couldn't wrap my head around what we had seen that night. Now, every piece was falling into place. The mysterious Luke, the gym on the other side of town, Calum not wanting me to tag along, and Michael and Ashton switching to sign language whenever they were talking about something sensitive. It was like a puzzle that had been missing crucial pieces, and suddenly everything made sense, even if the truth was hard to accept.

It wasn't just about the illegal boxing matches; it was about the secrets that had been kept from me for so long. Calum, who I thought I knew so well, had an entire hidden life that he had never shared. I couldn't help but feel a mixture of shock, betrayal, and curiosity. How had I missed all these signs? 

This was how Calum earned his money - by beating people up, and from what I saw that night, he was terrifyingly good at it. It was a stark contrast to the guy who made us popcorn for our weekly movie night, treating me with care and affection. The two sides of Calum were difficult to reconcile.

Calum wasn't oblivious to the tension that had settled between us. He must have noticed the change in my behavior, the way I avoided prolonged conversations and kept to myself. His expressions of disappointment were evident, especially when I entered our apartment and greeted him with a mere "hello" before retreating to my room. Yet, neither of us made an effort to address the growing distance between us, and the unspoken words lingered in the air like a heavy cloud.

Amy and I made a swift exit from the fight club the night we followed Calum just a couple of days ago, driven by the fear of drawing unwanted attention to ourselves. The atmosphere there was far from safe, especially for women like us. My concern wasn't directly tied to Calum, but rather to the ominous underbelly of that world. It was evident that there was more at play than mere prizefighting for money. Behind the scenes, there were likely more sinister elements like high-stakes competitions, illegal substances, and, honestly, it wouldn't shock me if there were a few individuals with blood on their hands lurking in the shadows of that grim realm.

"You have to tell him eventually," Amy insisted, pulling me out of my thoughts. I was momentarily lost in my own concerns.

"Tell him what?" I asked, not quite registering her words.

"You mean you want to keep this a secret? What if those guys he's mixed up with decide to pay him a visit at your place, which, may I remind you, is also your home," Amy warned.

"Amy, it's just boxing, not some gang activity," I argued.

"Hey, they call it 'illegal boxing' for a reason," she retorted, concern etched in her voice.

I sighed deeply as I turned onto my street. "I know, I know. It'll be fine; I'll figure it out," I reassured her. "Worst case scenario, I'll have to find a new place. At least I've learned not to find an apartment through Craigslist," I said, and Amy chuckled.