The Dangers Of The Damaged ✔︎

03 ↝ Witness A Murder

"I keep you tucked away inside my head,
Where I can find you any time I want to, baby."
- Tucked by Katy Perry.

Almost everyone in England knows that London is known for its nightclubs and bars.

England isn't all tea parties and royal palaces like most of the world thinks it is. British people, more specifically Londoners, know how to party.

Living there all my life, I had succumbed to that after I was legally able to drink, leaving home almost every Friday night to go grab a drink with my mates, or even with my dad and brother. We would dance, mess around, and stumble back home at 4am, absolutely plastered out of our minds on staple beer and vodka.

But that was almost a year ago. I haven't stepped foot inside a club after what happened.

However, I have been to my fair share of clubs and pubs. But, I'm almost ashamed to say that I've never seen anything like this before.

It isn't an extremely large space, but it is fairly big. There's a long bar and a DJ booth pushed up against one corner, along with a small boxing ring situated smack in the middle of the room. The whole place is crowded, and the room is lit with neon lights flashing from the ceiling. The echo of people laughing, music thumping blurs together in my ears, and the strong smell of alcohol and smoke wrap around me like a stinky blanket.

The boxing ring is unlit and dark, and I can't make out exactly who is standing there yet.

I lean over and grab Nessa's hand, catching her attention. "Nessa, you didn't tell me it was a fight club." I whisper-yell, biting my lip.

"Oh shit, it completely slipped my mind! I'm so sorry." She smiles apologetically. "Is it okay? We can leave if you want to but he's performing today—"

"No it's fine," I shake my head and let out a sigh. Before I can ask who she means by 'he', the speakers buzz, and the same man begins speaking again.

"Ladies and gents, the fight is about to begin!"

Suddenly, all the neon lights switch off, and the entire room is in darkness for a good few seconds before two huge bright lights right above the boxing ring flicker on. The whole room is pitch dark except the ring.

I blink a few times to adjust my vision to the harsh fluorescent lights, and I squint at the ring. My jaw slacks for the second time tonight when I see who's on stage.

"Please welcome our fighters for tonight! On the left, we have our local champion, Hunter!"

Hunter stands to the left of the ring, in all his shirtless glory. He's wearing red baggy shorts that reach his knees, with black boxing gloves on his hands along with a black head guard. Sweat drips down his chiselled body, and when he turns around I see that he has two big tattoos of leaves on his back, spreading horizontally on the back of each shoulder.  There is another tattoo on his shoulder, but I can't make out what it is from this far away. His dark hair is damp with sweat, matted against his forehead.

Even from this distance, I see his piercing grey eyes flashing. My throat runs dry, despite myself. He looks like a Greek god.

I'm so busy admiring Hunter that I don't hear the announcer saying the opponents name. When the said guy climbs on to the ring, my heart sinks.

He's a good few inches taller than Hunter, big and broad, built almost like Dwayne Johnson. Hunter is undeniably smaller than him, by height and body mass.

"H-how is Hunter going to beat him?" I ask in disbelief to no one in particular, trying not to stare at Hunter's godly body like a creep.

"Just watch." Kye smiles at me.