Page 1 of The Devils They Are
Chapter one
Bexley
Ifyou'daskmehow I ended up with a glowstick shoved into my nether region like some kind of flesh lantern, I should probably lie and say…I don't know.
But the truth is I'm too stubborn to turn down a dare. Showing signs of weakness or fear leads to nothing but trouble, and I didn't spend the past few years fighting my way to the top, just to be dethroned by a pink neon light inmy pink bits.
Some people might ask why I let such a ridiculous dare even be considered. Where are my morals? My dignity?
It's just a vagina, for fuck's sake. People waste too much time panicking over their genitalia—it's not like they have razor-sharp teeth and a thirst for blood. And the quicker people accept their sexuality and needs, the better it is. If you're in control, there's less chance that someone will take advantage of it. Let's face it… there are plenty of people out there who would take your hesitation and fear and use it for their own victory and repulsive needs. But at the end of the day, sex is just sex. It's as normal as it comes…No pun intended.
We shouldn't feel ashamed to want to be touched, to feel wanted—to feel beautiful. And we should always get a say in our own autonomy and choices.
I'm not ignorant though. I know what people say about strong-willed women who know what they want—the slurs painted on us while our male counterparts receive all the glory. That's just bullshit if you ask me. If a guy has sex, he's a legend. But if a woman does it…
But back to the point and my current dilemma.
Unfortunately, the sole photo capturing the dare had made its way into the wrong hands and now there must be consequences. But when I sayunfortunately, I don't mean for me.
"Find Joshua and bring him to me," I say, handing the cell phone back to Archie.
Arch pockets the black device, giving a stern nod as his hazel eyes scan my unbothered face. "I'll go find him now."
"Good," I reply, slipping one of the black hair ties off my wrist and pulling my dark purple hair back into a high-arched ponytail. If memory serves me, the name on the dye box was calledMidnight Royal. Like any woman who loves to accessorize, I matched my fingernails to it tonight. The violet painted tips are curved into a classic almond shape, perfect for gorging out eyes if need be—especiallyhere.
The abandoned warehouse off seventeenth and south is lit up with strobe lights, a smoky mist hanging above everyone's heads. The haze is a mixture of cigarettes, vapes, and if my senses are correct… cigars?
I'm not sure what fancy fucks thought they would be able to show off with Lonsdales and Panatelas, but in here during fight night, money means nothing.
Maybe in central Ridgeview Valley or on the Willowbrook side it can be used as a weapon, but in the dusty, dark confines of the warehouse, there's something else we value a lot more.
Tenacity. Strength. Power.
We call this the lawless land. On the outskirts of the city, along the border just before the cavernous mountains that travel for miles, the warehouse is pretty much smack-bang in the center of Ridgeview Valley.
It’s also just a mile away from the damn miniature crater that our town celebrates. Or is it commemorates? Either way, I suppose Ridgeview Valley doesn’t have much more to offer once you’ve visited the caves and deep canyon if your cardio is up to the challenge.
I did it once–freshman year. Before needing three business days to recover.
But the canyon andau naturelviews aren’t the town’s pride and joy. Once a year, the mayor likes to throw an event to remember the day a random piece of space junk smashed into Ridgeview Valley.
It didn’t kill anyone, but it did leave a lasting mark in the form of a small dent in the CBD. No doubt the towncouldhave fixed it–but why waste the opportunity to attract tourists for extra cash?
Come see our three by three hole in the ground! Suitable for all ages!
If you searched up Ridgeview Valley on Google Earth, you could almost draw a straight line from the hole to the warehouse. And to appease the symmetrical Gods, the lawless land sits perfectly centered between the Cedar Heights and Willowbrook Academies.
Therefore, we have shared custody of this renovator’s dream.
But it's the perfect place to do what we want and what we do best—fight. The abandoned warehouse was repurposed back in 1984 to give the rival crews a safe space to burn off steam and test our power against our rivals. Let's face it… no one wants brawls in the streets where innocent people might get caught up in it.
It sounds barbaric–criminal even. But we’re not bad people. We just follow the long standing feud and our elders wanted a place to safely fight it out if we needed–under control and with rules of course. And we all abide by them.
Outside of this building, we keep to our own spaces, turning a blind eye on the street if we see our sworn enemies, aside from snarky remarks and the occasional middle finger.
In the center of the room, where the haze of the smoke lingers around the top, the makeshift cage stands. The rusty circular fencing has long lost all its paint, but if you look closely, dried blood clings to the metal giving it a splash of color. It's been here for at least a decade, with various monetary and material donations from both sides keeping it in somewhat decent condition. I mean, how many times can a body be slammed against wire before it starts to buckle and weaken? But I guess it beats the alternative of fighting old school, where everyone just stood around in a circle. I’ve heard past stories of one-on-one scraps that turned into all-out group brawls before they finally put a cage in the warehouse.
Among the sea of blue and white, I spot an argument forming between a few people, but it's quickly dissolved by the cops standing by. Only, it's hard to tell they are cops, dressed in all-black casual wear.
