Living With The Player

DYLAN EMERTON

FRIDAY.

She fled. I’m hunching on my bed, gazing at the door while waiting for her figure to slide through. It’s been over 5 minutes and 20 seconds, and Camilla hasn’t returned.

I can’t carry myself off the bed and wander after her, so I dwell back and seal my eyes, looking back on a time when I didn’t have so many life problems.

“Dylan.”

“You didn’t quit?”

I rear back, my eyes drifting open, and find her in the middle of the room.

“No, I didn’t. I went to get a glass of water, and I lost track of time in the kitchen. You thought I’d leave?”

Her brows crease with nothing but sympathy.

“If I were in your place, I’d leave.”

I answer back.

“I’m not leaving Dylan. I don’t want to go back to my world.”

“Mine isn’t looking peachy either.”

“Yes, but you’re in it and that’s enough for me. Now finish the story.”

I blink and draw a finger to my skin, tapping a circle to check if I am fantasizing.

“What if you detest me when I finish?”

“I will not hate you, Dylan. Whatever you did, I know you didn’t do it on purpose. I know it wasn’t your fault. I know that because you have a good heart. You’re a good person.”

Camilla pulls her over sideways, slips in and returns it over her legs.

“And it’s in your past. It shouldn’t define you. I have had my fair share of terrible mistakes. I caused a fire in case you forgot. I had people judging me for that too, so I will not surmise until I know the entire thing, so tell me what went on after your first fight.”

One of her arms circles my lower back, but she doesn’t draw closer. Camilla trusts me. Camilla believes in me.

She won’t hate me. And that’s enough courage to get through the saga and shut that chapter.

**

MONTHS EARLIER.

The fight club became my second best spot. My first was my bedroom where I’d listen to music or box. I saw my parents, they saw me, but I didn’t level my eyes with them.

Over the last two weeks, I’ve been watching a lot of fights. I prefer folks of higher standing than me. I didn’t need to act tough. I’d rather take a beating than win even. Harper and I spent time outside the compound. I opened up about Camilla. The entire thing. His message was to;

“Forget about her. You can’t keep scowling over a girl who has likely moved on.”

My chest aches more than the times I got hit since pictures of her and some bastard won’t stop shaping.

I craved being knocked up by my ass and feeling pain in more pieces of my body than I can count.

I’d slither back into the house with big hoodies so my mom or dad barely noticed.

The funny part is that my brother did. Blake returned from college after his first semester there he saw my black eye. Since I lowered my head while walking, I can’t recount why Blake knew something was amiss.

What’s even funnier was that he didn’t take revenge and call me out as I did him. He extended a hand and offered a talk which I denied.

No one understood what I desired or was going through, only the fight club. I forfeited two fights while he was home, but he left the week after and I was back in the little ring.

This was my life now. A life of excitement and thrill.

Until one Thursday night when everything went to shit.

I no longer received calls or texts from Harper, I took my cycle and got to the compound.

Tonight my parents would be home early and I didn’t want any queries, so I planned to leave by 5, which was two hours earlier than the fight for the night. I drove there and parked the cycle elsewhere; I knew the special knock to get in and Harper wasn’t in sight.

I considered calling, but a better part of me opted for a walk around the compound. Aside from the bungalow, the whole area was filled with carpet grass and looked tidy enough.

Then I noticed a shack in the corner. Curiously, I inched near it. I got a whiff of Harper and his friends.

I got acquainted with two already. Eli and Victor. I made out an extra voice inside. They were discussing, then my shadow got made. I panicked as the door burst open revealing Harper.

“You’re here early. It’s good. I’ve been meaning to let you in on this.”

Harper never showed his emotions. He was smirking or grinning. Same with today. He pulled me inside and I followed. The place was lit with nothing but a bulb along with 3 other guys, above nineteen maybe.

They all had black shirts on just like Harper.

“D, these are my friends. This last guy is Miles.”

He introduced, grinning harder.

“What are you doing here? And what do you mean let me in?”

Another smirk.

**

The flight club charged about twenty dollars per head and every night they made above a thousand grand or more, but that wasn’t the only flow of income.

They had a betting system. When two players were fighting, the spectators had two minutes into the match to place their bets on who would win. Harper and his friends were in charge, they made tons from the proceedings.

“You come here to discuss bettings?”

They shared a look.

“Yes.”

An emotion crossed his eyes. I captured it immediately.

Half-truth. Fear. Uncertainty.

But I didn’t question him. I bobbed my head and departed seconds later.

That night I won the fight and went head with a head injury.

**

Four days later, I arrived the same way I usually did, but the aura was different. The nagging sensation of something amiss and about to go wrong kept rising in my chest, but I dismissed it constantly.

My opponent was Rina. Harper and Rina had fought thrice, and he won twice, leaving me excited about fighting him tonight.

“Hey D, come here for a second.”

I strode towards Harper, pulling my shirt off since we were a minute away from starting.

“What’s wrong?”

“Rina is tough. Are you sure you’re ready?”

“Yup.”

“Alright then, but I think I gave a tip for you. Rina usually puts all his muscles into the match, so you need to let him think he’s won, once that happens you have to go all out on him. Don’t stop even though he looks weak. That’s how you win.”

I listened keenly. Harper beat him once, so of course, I’d take his word for it.

**

Following Harper’s words, I played a mini offence than a defence; barely dodging and then getting punched.

Minutes into the fight, I got a space and went for his lower jaw.

Rina staggered backwards, but I didn’t halt. I punched again then he fell back. I went for his stomach; he bent forward and dropped to his knees.

“Don’t hold back.”

Gritting my teeth, I kicked both his legs and watched the entire crowd cheer my name. Even then I kept going, hitting and slapping. Rina was down and bleeding thoroughly, the sight amused me in ways that shouldn’t be normal.

I won.

**

I severely injured Rina that night, and I bruised my knuckles from the impact on his body.

I began searching for Harper since I was scared about what happened to Rina.

That’s when I heard him and Miles discussing.

“That was amazing! You were right. He’d be good for business. Everyone was catching up to your antics, but with Dylan, he’s perfect.”

I pressed my ear over the door and got the entire thing.

Harper’s tip? That was all planned. He wanted me to hold back while everyone placed bets; he needed me to hurt Rina and get the crowd’s attention.

It was all for show. A man lost his life for the show. Harper’s betting system was rigged. All for money.

**

PRESENT TIME.

“I confronted him. The sick bastard didn’t deny a word. He offered me money and a chance to hit people. Let out my pain. I made the mistake of telling him about you, so the asshole figured I’d like hurting others to soothe my suffering.”

I chuckle.

“That’s what happened. That’s the history between Harper and me, now you know.”

“I think to myself; what if I said something about the bet? Even if I didn’t go to the authorities, what if I asked further questions instead of being a selfish prick? What if Rina died that night?”

I added.

“But he didn’t.”

“That doesn’t make it better Cam. I left the entire place. I told Harper and his friends that I wanted nothing to do with the fight club. I didn’t go to the cops because my entire body felt rigid, a week later I returned and they cleared the place out. I figured they moved to another location. Then Claire came around and pulled me out of that dark prison, made me come here and you know the rest.”

“Dylan.”Text property © Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org.

“I feel guilty Cam. Harper is right, I’m not a good person. I’m just like him. I had the matchbox while he struck it.”

“You’re not like him. You made mistakes too, but you’re not Harper.”

“I’m not so sure anymore.”

“Don’t do that to yourself. I did it after my house got burnt down and you pulled me out, so do not do it to yourself.”

“I have nothing to forgive you for, you’re forgiving yourself just like with Paula. If you need to see Rina, then do it. But you let go and you tell Harper he has no control over you anymore.”

I can’t help but nod.

“I love you.”

I think to myself, smiling softly. This isn’t the time to say it to her. She’d freak out. Too many problems and bursting those three words may only add to it. Besides, she just broke up with Jimmy. It’ll be a dick move. But I love her. I’m in love with her. So much so that I worry it’ll consume me. No-I worry I’d let it.

“Thank you.”

I mumble, patting my lips against the other, drawing closer so I could claim hers.

If only I could stay here in this bed, having her in my arms, her lips over mine, repeatedly. Nothing is more vital.

****