Page 135 of Ruined

Dominic.

He’d know what to say. He’d tell me it wasn’t my fault, that I was worth saving. He saw the good in me, but I couldn’t stand the thought of him realizing how much of it wasn’t there.

I couldn’t tell him about this.

I needed to do something else to make this go away.

The fighting ring.

I’d go there. I had to feel the sting of fists against my skin. I needed to hurt. Shaking, I pushed myself to my feet. I swiped at my eyes, pulling myself together. I couldn’t let them see me like this.

I slipped through the backyard door and dashed to the street. I got into my car, driving away. City lights flashed by, the glow of street lamps blending with the darkness as I sped through empty streets.

I pulled up to the warehouse, an old building tucked away from the main road, and stepped out of the car. A heavy weight settled on my chest as I approached the door. I wasn’t here to fight back. I was here tohurt.

To let them beat me until everything was silent.

Until there was nothing left.

I reached the door. I took a deep breath, then pushed the door open, stepping into the smoke-filled room. Tonight, I wouldn’t fight back. I’d let them break me if that’s what it took.

And maybe then, I could forget.

I stepped into the ring, my fists clenched.

“Up next, we’ve got Luca!” The commentator’s voice boomed through the speakers. “Look who he’s up against tonight—Ethan ‘The Hammer’ Cole! This should be interesting!”

The crowd roared louder, people pressing closer to the ring. I didn’t care who my opponent was. All of it was a background to the chaos inside my head.

Ethan, already in the ring, gave me a crooked grin. He cracked his knuckles, his broad frame dwarfing mine. He was ready to tear me apart, and I welcomed it.

The bell rang, and Ethan came at me. I barely raised my guard before the first punch connected with my jaw, snapping my head back.

The crowd erupted.

Another punch followed—this time to my ribs, knocking the wind out of me. Pain exploded across my chest, and I stumbled back. Ethan wasn’t holding back, and I didn’t want him to.

I didn’t fight back. I took a jab to my temple, my vision blurring. The pain forced out the guilt.

Ethan’s eyes narrowed. He landed another punch, this one straight to my barely healed stab wound. I doubled over and wheezed.

He drove his knee into my stomach. Pain shot through me, white-hot and blinding, and I dropped to my knees.

The crowd went nuts.

I pushed myself to my feet, my vision blurred. Ethan’s grin widened, and he swung at me again.

I ducked. I couldn’t just take it. I needed to piss him off. My fist shot out, a cheap shot that caught Ethan in the ribs. His grin vanished.

I dodged the first punch, but the second caught me on the side of the head, sending me sprawling. The mat was hard beneath me, my cheek pressing into the sweat-slicked surface.

I pushed myself up again, my head spinning.

Ethan didn’t waste any time. A hit smashed into my jaw, another struck my ribs, each one sending shockwaves of pain through me. My knees buckled.

I let him hit me again, his fist slamming into my face. My head snapped back. Blood filled my mouth, and I stumbled, my legs giving out.

I lay there, my body aching. The vibrations of the crowd stomping feet shook the floor. I didn’t move. The world went dark as I let my eyes close.