Elena
I could hardly believe my luck. Winning the fight had earned me over €3,000, making me glad that I had taken my large bag to fit my profits in.
Edmond and Paul rattled me with questions on how I knew the tattooed man would win. I just smiled knowingly at them and put my hand on my lips, signifying that they should keep silent. "When we leave, I'll tell you," I said.
Because the fight was over, the arena had soon become empty. I still stood on the table, however, hoping to catch a glimpse of Damon again. Perhaps if I had known the fighter, I would have been eager to talk to him at the restaurant.
I whipped my head from side to side, checking the back and craning my neck to catch the tall man. I saw him behind the iron mesh that covered the circular cage. He was talking to someone and had his head bent in concentration.
He suddenly moved slowly and a pale an wrapped itself around his shoulder.
Oops.
“Let's go too.” I said to the guys who looked just as ready as i was. Feeling tired but happy, I jumped down from the table as soon as the crowd cleared.
Just as I was about to leave, I heard someone call out to me.
I glanced back to find Fred jogging towards me from behind. "Someone wants to see you," he said. Confused, I chose not to walk back into the empty arena. Even though I had my friends with me, I just didn't trust the place.
A man stepped out beside me, the same man who had been yelling "place your bets."
"How did you do that?" he asked me.
I just shrugged. "Just a hunch," I said.
"Is that all?" he asked incredulously.
“You should be careful. There's many people that fix these fights. One or two wins is good, but when it happens every time, they begin to ask questions.” He said with a low voice.
I nodded with wide eyes. He was right about the fixing fights.
“Thanks. I'll try to take it slow.” I promised.
I turned and grabbed Paul's arm, pulling him. Edmond and Julian were waiting for us a few paces ahead, looking impatient. I had, after all, promised to tell them the secret of my betting.
"I don't know. I just saw it. I thought he looked too well-trained," I said.
"You know something about the Iron Fist?" I asked him.
Raising his eyebrows, Julian asked, "What is it?"
"He's heavy. When you're heavy, obviously you'll move slowly. And then there are those stupid gauntlets that he wears, thinking it's cool.”
"Those are heavier and weigh down his punches," I continued, trying to explain my theory.
"I mean..." Paul interrupted me, "But the gauntlets have helped the Iron Fist to take out so many. The guy's just fast."
"It's not just about his speed," I said. "I think he's very well-trained. Did you see his thighs?" I gushed, blushing at the memory of how thick and strong his thighs looked. "They looked like he would easily be able to jump high and kick. I feel like we haven't even scratched the surface of what he can do."
"Maybe if he were paired with crazier fighters, like gatling Mick, or that crazy guy who likes to grapple people. What's his name again? I don't remember," Julian said.
After about a minute of silence, Edmond finally spoke. "Mitch. He calls himself Mitch. It sounds like such a pussy name to call yourself, but yeah.”
The four of us walked to a bus stop where I could find transportation to my apartment. I shared it with two other girls who were rarely ever at home, making me quite happy with the arrangement. They were all students, making it a student department, but it cost me an arm and a leg to keep the place.
I gingerly unlocked my door and walked into the dark apartment. With a flick of the switch, I observed how dirty the apartment was. I remembered cleaning it in the morning, and I was much too tired to do it again.
While I was excited, I didn't feel strong enough to exert myself anymore. I rubbed my face in exhaustion and made my way to my room.
Once I was there, I took off my clothes and ran myself a bath. Just as the water was getting full, I received the phone call. The number on the screen was never saved, but I knew it all too well.
"Hi Dad," I said. Pablo grunted in response. "I need to pay up," he said. Confused, I questioned him.
"Pay up what?”
“ Is that what they teach you in university? To question the people that fed you for your whole life?" Pablo always made an excuse.
He always found a way to bring me down, and his calls always fell at strategic times when I was happy. Suddenly, a vision flaId in my mind.
I was younger, clad in damp clothes and shaking slightly from the cold. Pablo stood in front of me, younger then, but scruffy still. The doctor had told me that my mother had died.
"Did you hear me?" I heard Pablo's voice over the phone. "I'm sorry. Please, can you repeat that?" Pablo exhaled. "I need to pay back. Debtors are calling me," he repeated himself. "Just send the money."
Hearing this excuse one too many times, I was tired. I had long been exhausted by my stepfather's tricks, to the point where I found it best to just indulge him, even though it was I who lost in the end.
"How much?" I asked.
"Two grand," he said. "If you make it three, I won't bother you for a while," he added.
I had exactly €3,000 from betting on Damon.
"I'm sorry, Dad. I don't have up to 3,000. I only have about two, and it might not be complete but..."
"Send it! Send it now!" Pablo yelled into the phone, making my wince. I, however, didn't need much of an explanation from Pablo.
I knew he borrowed money so he could gamble every day. I also knew he had terrible luck, and I was afraid now because it seemed like he would spread his terrible luck to me.
Before the end of the night, Pablo had pressed me with phone calls three more times to send the money.
Elena Sending Pablo the money did nothing but cripple me. I woke up the next morning under a cloud of depression that didn't lift even as I made my way to school. It seemed like the heavens were in a similar opinion because the weather was gray and bleak. My shoulders slumped, and my lips turned downward as I sat on the bus, contemplating my life and where I had gone wrong. Was it at the switch from eight years ago? Or was it with my job? The job paid well as a waitress, but if not for Pablo and his never-ending calls for money, I would have been in a different situation by now. But that wasn't the case. This week however proved to be a ray of sunshine. With the extra money I made from betting and sending to Pablo, I would save up the rest and use part of it to buy groceries for the coming week. As soon as I got off the bus, I was hit by fat droplets of rain. "Holy virgin, can't you spare me?" I muttered to myself. I was already tired and exhausted from talking to Pablo and wor
Elena "Get in. I insist," Damon said, his tone firm yet gentle. It wasn't that I was scared; I was mostly apprehensive and unsure of what I would do. I licked my lips nervously as I scanned the deserted street back and forth, as though another car or perhaps a bus would show up and take me home. But I knew it wasn't possible. Taking a deep breath, I exhaled slowly before opening his car door and sliding into the plush leather seats. The car smelled like him—woody and rich, with a hint of expensive whiskey and pine. As I settled in, a memory flashed in my mind: a veiny, large hand adorned with a wedding ring and another with a crest-bearing ring, pouring whiskey into a glass filled with ice. The hand then lightly shook the glass, distributing the chill of the ice, before lifting it up to a bearded chin. "Elena!" Damon's voice snapped me out of my reverie, and I turned to look at him, wondering what had happened. "Are you all right?" he asked me. I felt like he had asked me that too
Elena I bet on more fights. It wasn't like I was completely discounting the advice of the old man. I just needed the money. Pablo had called me twice, asking for small change he could use to buy groceries. Of course, I knew this was a lie, as Pablo had a pension that he used to keep himself going. The only reason why he wasn't comfortable was because he had a gambling problem. I learned that the problem had been with him long since before his wife died. He married again to my mother, and then once she died, the gambling addiction returned. I didn't know whether to feel bad for him or to chalk it up to a complete lack of trying, but I had to do something. I appreciated the man for keeping me safe and making life fairly easy for me, and so no amount of money would make me stop. I was able to bring in some cool cash from the latest battle, but I didn't see Damon again. I wanted to tell him thank you for giving me a ride, but he seemed so elusive, and judging from his demeanor from th
Elena I stepped forward under then again the sound of Isabella still rang in my ears. “Mia Bella.” Damon said again behind me and I let out a breath of relief. “You dropped this.” He said. And his hand was the keys to my apartment. I snatched out of his hand and mumbled a “thank you”, before resuming my trip. The car that was moving slowly had also disappeared thankfully. I got to the arena on time and met up with Paul, Edmond, and Julian once again. This time, my three friends brought out a collective of €100. "We're going to give this to you and again, place bets for us," Julian had told me the night before on a phone call. "Whatever it is you did last time, do it again," he said. Together, we bet upwards of €300. Of course, I had contributed most of it because I still had quite a bit of money from the previous win even though most of it had gone to my stepfather's problem. I didn't really know much about the night fighters, but with a quick glance, I knew who was going to win
Elena Taking a step back in an attempt to create some distance, I failed miserably, twisting my ankle in the process. I didn't fall too far as he caught me by the waist and pulled my flush against his sweaty chest. He smelled divine. Sure, there was the musk of sweat, but there was also something expensive about his scent. I couldn't quite place it, but I knew he wasn't a man of small means. The question I had intended to ask him flew out of my mind as I stood in close proximity to him, his presence overwhelming. I wiggled out of his grasp as the announcer approached, likely to tell him about another fight scheduled for another time. I tried to catch his eye as I left, but he seemed engrossed in his conversation. I hurried out of the room, feeling flustered and uncertain about what just happened. ** I was back to square one. I had no money, and my job being needlessly demanding, I was also in desperate need of a timeout. Two days ago, Pablo called me while I was in class. I had l
Elena Sicilia was an excuse. It was the perfect excuse to escape work and the ever nagging feeling at the back of my mind that I was being followed. However, going there would also mean that I was facing another problem, which was Pablo. Just basically from the pan into the fire in my case. And so once my paycheck came in I all but ran back home and hurried to pack a few clothes and also quickly made my way to the train station. I was so absorbed in my thoughts when I didn't notice I had bumped into someone. “I'm sorry,” I apologized as I picked up my bag. “No problem,” the man muttered with a strong Italian accent. The accent itself wasn't a problem, it was the twist. It was strong with some of the raises of the Avalian drawl. I looked up at him. He didn't seem to be someone I knew, but his face betrayed some form of recognition. He was elderly, and on his head was a cloth cap. “You should look where you are going, miss. You don't want to end up in trouble,” he said as he hande
Elena He sat in front of an old restaurant I used to frequent when I was younger, drinking a cup of tea and trying to avert his eyes when I saw him. He was definitely not someone from around town because if he was, he would most likely be eating the restaurant's signature pasta. Feeling as though I was cornered, I picked up my pace and made a mental note to take another route from the farmers market when I was going back. Luckily for me, there were no more incidents on my way back since I took the other side, but I was still apprehensive. With every couple of steps I took, I would turn to check. "I need you to help me pick up something from Antonio," Pablo told me when I got back home. "Antonio? Who's that?" I asked as I stepped into the house. "You don't know him? He's my friend. He was supposed to meet up earlier, but he said he had a problem. Anyway, go help me pick up something. You don't need to know what it is," Pablo said, waving his hands as though to send me away, which
Elena Somehow, in my mind, the monster lurking outside would hear me and burst open my door. But this was real life, and there was no monster outside to burst open my door once I opened it. I met an empty hallway, and silence greeted me. I slowly walked down the slim staircase and made my way into the living room. I stopped once I reached the atrium. There was broken glass on the floor from the door, and a few potted plants had been injured in the fight. I turned to the living room, and my heart fell at the sight in front of me. Pablo sat hunched in his usual spot in the living room. From his bruised and bloodied knuckles, blood dripped onto the tiled floor beneath him. I was willing to bet that his face was just as bad. "What happened?" I asked, setting a bowl of cold water beside him, ready to clean his hands and face. Silence was my response as I wiped off the blood from his knuckles. Just as I was about to move to his face, he flung backwards and snatched the cloth and my hand.