Dark Wails by Misty Cogburn (poetry books to read txt) 📕

His advice, however, would probably be worthless though…

Sighed loudly once more, I rested my forehead against the cool metal of my locker.

I have more than enough shit to put up with already, without thinking about marriage.

I'm not even marriage material…

Call it whatever you'd like, a eureka-moment or an epiphany, never-the-less I was struck by an idea too good to pass-up at that thought.

Kicking my converse shoes off with a shit-eating grin, I felt that I had finally found the resolution to my Don problems.

I threw off my undershirt and shorts standing there in nothing save my flamboyantly-gay orange boxers and some bandages wrapped around my waist and left thigh.

I felt almost new again…

Hearing that asshole Rex scoffing about something behind me, I decided to ignore it, knowing that it would only start shit with that fucker.

He was either making cracks at how small I was compared to the other fighters, or maybe even wondering about my bandages.

None of the other buff ass douche-bags ever said anything to me anymore, I had taken on almost all of them in the ring, and all of them but Rex had learned.

'Ya just can't fix stupid… I thought with a sigh.

We were both on in only a few short minutes, Rex was always one to leave early so he could talk shit about his opponents to the crowd, and he didn't disappoint.

He left within seconds afterwards, his music blaring all the way into the locker room.

I had a good five-or-ten minutes, give-or-take, before I would need to be out.

Yet, I hurried to get dressed, deciding to remain shirtless; I grabbed an old pair of torn black-cargo shorts from my locker, looping my belt through the threads of the denim.

Looking into the mirror of my locker I noticed the green-on-black looked odd against the bit of orange showing from the inch-or-so bit of my exposed briefs; however, I ignored it begrudgingly.

Instead I dragged out my large, clucky, steel-toed combat boots from the bottom of my locker to replace my ratty, old, converse shoes.

I thought about styling the black messy locks of my short hair, but I opted against it, choosing instead to line my eyes thicker with black eye-liner.

Boss Man Scottie had already asked me to push the fight back, he wanted to prolong the bets for this match, and had hinted at a cut.

However, I already knew that greedy little-fucker would only pay his part.

More than once he had tried to get me to stage a fight, but I refused.

Though it didn't help me much when it came to Scott, I still had some semblance of pride, and I was always a sure bet; except when it came to Mad Dog.

…Crazy fucker…

He was one of the few fighters the club had that I actually enjoyed.

We were similar in a lot of ways, except for his fascination of Japan… that was just his own weird personal-trait.

I was the only Asian fighter, besides this slutty Korean bitch the club paid to brawl in a blow-up pool filled with mud.

When he had found out I was Japanese the crazy-fucker had all but jumped me with his stupid questions.

He saved up all he could before leaving on a trip to Japan, only knowing the makeshift words I remembered from when I was a child.

Yet, no one had heard from him since…

Sucking on my teeth I tried to focus, I had more shit to worry about than that crazy dumb-ass, I needed to finish this fight quickly and get out of the club.

…To hell with Boss Man Scottie, and to hell with that Don…

I only need the make the fight last over sixty seconds.

I'd play my part, but I won't play to his standards, I had decided that in the very beginning over three years ago, didn't I?

I made a show out of my entrance, I showed off my tats, I played my music, I flaunted M#1FF off confidently to the watching Don, and I entered the ring with a killer's focus directed towards Rex.

The crowd cheered, the bell rang, and Rex barreled towards me…

Like a screen freezing over pane-by-pane everything around me slowly drowned out.

Time seemed to dawdle as the bustling noise of the audience faded, along with the arena's mic announcer, and Rex's enraged roar.

I was left with only the thudding beat of my heart pounding in my ears.

The fight had started, and I focused solely on my mark.

… Prey… something in me whispered.

Rex was huge compared to my size, though I was tall, he was taller.

He had a large stature, made even larger by the impossible size of his muscles.

His head was shaven, revealing a throbbing vein above his right eye on his purple, discolored, face that was contorted in his stampeding rage.

I dodged his grappling arms, ducking low to escape the reach of his large, meaty, fingers; more than sure he would throttle me if given half the chance.

I used his croc-skin speedo to throw him off balance, tugging it hard enough I was sure it went up the crack of his ass.

He let out a pain gasp as he toppled over, and the crowd's cheers rained as Rex hit the sandy bottom of the ring's floor.

I backed away keeping light on my feet despite the heavy boots I wore, knowing in only moments the hulking figure would be back on his feet.

He never was one to stay down for long…

Rex swore, pushing himself back onto his feet, he attempted to toss a handful of sand into my eyes, but I was prepared for his cheap trick.

As he rushed me once more I focused on my mark once again.

He closed the distance between us swiftly grabbing my shoulder in a painful grip as I twisted out of his reach, bringing my leg high.

I spun in a round-house, connecting the heel of my heavy combat boot to Rex's neck just beneath his ear and lower jaw.

Enjoying the sick crack my boot created…

His enraged brown eyes met mine with a confused look that lasted only for a second before the large bastard hit the sand pit bottom of the ring face first with a loud thump.

A lot of the roars in the crowd died out, but those of my fans easily took their place.

I looked towards the time clock, anything under a minute; Boss Man Scottie refused to pay… it had taken me only forty-nine seconds to lay Rex out.

I had torn open the wound in my thigh and a few stitches in my side… all for no pay.

Swearing under my breath as Scott entered the ring to roughly jerk up my arm; I ignored the pain, wondering instead what I could do to make up for the money…

With that Don hanging around the club it wouldn't be smart to risk anymore matches until he had left town for good.

Yet, what else could I do…?

Boss Man Scottie was pissed; I could see it in his face and in the red beginning to blister in his neck from his high blood pressure.

I had hoped to avoid the little bastard, but instead it looks like I was stuck… he wouldn't let me just walks away that easily.

He would get even in his own way…

Any fights I had for the rest of the week would only be half of what I usually made, I was sure of it…

He had asked me to put off the fight for a little while, and I had finished the match in under a minute instead.

Scottie would often keep the bets rolling well into the match; the longer the match the more bets could be made… shortening a match that quickly cut the bids short.

I had lost him money, and one way or another he'd get me back for it…

This really was a shitty night, I decided then and there.

He didn't say anything to me, but I could see the fury in his beady green eyes.

To the crowd he showed a charming smile, pumping my sore arm in the air a few more times before painfully slapping me on the back.

I left the ring feeling worse for wear, knowing Ari's medication needed refilling this week and the rent was due soon.

I would have to make up twice the amount of matches to afford the costs this week.

Deaf to the sudden blare of deadening music, I slid through the arena's ropes.

The next match began as I left the ring, the first opponent coming down the crude ramp as his music began to play over the club's speakers.

Just as I had, he strutted down the ramp like a cocky douche-bag, soaking in the raving screams of his adoring fans like a sponge in water.

Fans pelted me with their hands and autograph papers, as sluts pulled me in all different directions.

I fought my way out of their reach, making my way to the rear exist of the arena area.

By the time I made it to the nearest security guard the fans were nearly hysterical.

Each of them wanted a piece of me… I had claw marks all over my body, chunks of my shorts were missing, and somehow or another my belt had disappeared.

More than thankful as I entered the fighter's hallway, I sighed in relief as the security guards slammed the down behind me, leaving me in the dimly lit foyer.

Even through the iron door and thick cement walls the crowd's cheers whispered into the empty hall where I stood gravely contemplating.

What now? I wondered soundlessly.

I slumped back against the thick cement wall holding my arm, more than sure it was dislocated from Rex's abusive grip.

I'd probably have to get Easy to fix it I sighed heavily again, pausing to blow back a black bang from the corner of my eye.

It wouldn't be good… Ari would fuss like crazy when she saw-

"S'Good Match," rang a familiar accent.

I flinched; I hadn't seen anyone in the dark lit hall, even as soft spoken as it was it interrupted my thoughts like a blaring siren.

I looked up worried to see the Don once again; thankfully, I found another figure entirely, one of a well dress dark haired guy, peering eerily at me with strange eyes.

Instantly, I recognized those dark chocolate eyes…

"Piss off…" I murmured, still clutching my arm, this man wasn't the Don, I had no reason to be polite to the peon.

I wouldn't let some crony ass-fucker intimidate me here on my on turf…

His eyes darkened slightly in the dim light of the foyer as he sized me up with a threatening glare that made the hair on my neck stand tall.

I hesitantly took a step backwards, seeing something in the man that I hadn't seen in years, not since I had met Mad Dog...

Call it instinct or just being over intuitive, my gut hadn't led me wrong so far.

I sized the dark haired man up with a critical glare.

The man was tall, only an inch or so above my height, but tall none-the-less.

Using his height to seem threatening, he loomed over me, way over stepping the comfort of personal space as he backed me up against the chilled cement wall; either the cold stone or the glint in his eye, causing the skin of my back to shiver as he pressed up against me in a domineering way.

My mouth seemed to dry instantly under his dark eyes, this man was as dangerous as the Don himself, I suddenly realized.

I found for the first time in my life I was entirely speechless...

…I couldn't even think up an insult...

"W-what?" I demanded, looking up sharply at the suited man.

Pride refused to let me back down from the dark haired stranger, even as rough hands cupped the sides of my face and trailed down the grove of my throat.

Though the man's hands weren't squeezing I felt choked as he began to trace over the tats on my neck with his fingertips.

His touch was soft… but it burned…

He only brushed the tips of his fingers down my sternum, yet my nipples hardened under his