The ache in my face was welcomed. It was a relief to feel something other than this gaping void all day long. The only time I felt anything was when I was in the cage. I’d gotten into it when Vito and Bennie had dragged Garret and me to one of the fights they tended to frequent one night. No doubt, my mom had encouraged them to take us out so we didn’t spend yet another night locked in our apartment, glaring at the walls, pretending to be alive by watching random crappy TV shows.

But really, we were just walking zombies, no matter what we were doing. Or that had been the case for me until someone had run their mouth at the underground fight, and I’d gotten tired of hearing the sound of their annoying voice. I wasn’t even sure what the dumb fuck had been ranting about, nor why I’d been so pissed.

What I did remember was the ache in my knuckles as I’d knocked the fucker on his ass and then started slamming my fist into his face over and over and over again. Garret and Vito had to pull me off the guy, who, by that time, was out cold. Or maybe he was dead. I hadn’t seen him since that night, and honestly, I couldn’t bring myself to care if I’d killed him or not.

One of the promoters for the fights had seen me and asked if I wanted to get in on the matches the following week. Vito had tried to tell the guy no way, but I’d been a little high on the thrill of more pain and told him I was interested. For the past four weeks, I’d been fighting every Saturday night, and so far, I was undefeated.

Most of the guys I faced in the cages had been doing this a long time. They had skills I had yet to learn because they’d been fighting to survive all their lives. When they got into the cage with me, they thought they would have me at their mercy in no time. What they didn’t know was that I had rage and pain festering inside me every moment I wasn’t fighting. Those emotions needed an outlet, and using my opponents’ faces as a punching bag was the only way I allowed myself to release it.

It usually only took about thirty seconds for them to realize I wasn’t an easy win. A few minutes later, they would be on the ground, knocked out. Each time I stood over them, I felt a twinge of jealousy that they could escape reality for however long they were out. What kind of relief would that be? Not to feel anything, to turn it all off and just float in darkness for a few minutes.

Would I get to see Nova? And if I did, would she be the beautiful, smiling version who kissed me goodbye that last night…or the broken, bloody pieces that came later?