Page 91 of The Devils They Are
Pure, untainted beauty is the key and cornerstone of life. It balances out all the challenging pressure that continues to surmount on a daily basis.
The Ridgeview Canyon is the epitome of all things good in my world of bad. Soft, amber glows bathe the shrubs and orange dirt. Little floral structures pop out of the ground, rising from nothing into the most incredible spectacles of nature.
Sweat drips down my skin as I run along the track, relishing in the feelings of nerves exploding. Even though it hurts to run today, I easily get lost in the pain, coupled with the blaring of music coming through my headphones.
Last night was something else.
I stayed inside the room until it was my turn to fight. Tai had ducked out not long after Hunter, only to come bursting back in a short time later to tell me that Bexley lost her fight.
To say I was surprised would be an understatement. We knew that Tamara would give her a run for her money, but after everything Spencer has been through lately, I would have thought for sure that she would come out on top.
After all, that's what happened to me.
Turner didn't stand a chance once we got inside the cage. I almost felt sorry for him.
Weeks of pent-up rage and frustration came charging out through my fists, the feeling of aching, battered flesh only spurring me on.
It was over before it had even begun.
He tried to put up a fight—I acknowledge that much. But from what I remember, he was barely able to touch me.
As soon as the buzzer rang out, I blacked out. It wasn't until someone was pulling me off him that I realized the match was over. The crowd loved it, of course—well, at least our folk did. Not long after that, the Cedar pack slowly disappeared with their tails between their legs. To say they were annihilated would be an understatement. Not only did we win the fight count, but their leader lost.
Sure, we could argue that a better result would be a whitewash of wins, but Bexley's loss superseded everything else. It's embarrassing for them, even though everyone loses from time to time. I guess the problem is timing. It's a critical point for all of us, and we all wanted that victory.
I feel bad for her though. With everything going on, I'm sure she's feeling the hit. But that's just business. She'll bounce back.
Nodding to some fellow early morning runners that pass by, I jog back toward the parking lot.
As usual, she's on my mind. Normally when I run, my brain turns off, giving in to the endorphins and entering into primal mode. But lately, the thought of Bexley has been able to break through even my toughest of restraints.
It's like a virus. Images infiltrate my vision, flashing back to cool nights and naked bodies. The taste of her, the feeling of her body on top of mine.
When I stepped into the cage last night, that's all I could think of. In fact, I'm willing to bet that whenever I look at that ring now, it will always be pleasantly tainted with the ecstasy feeling and memory of us together.
I've fallen so far down the rabbit hole that I doubt I'll ever emerge again. I'm in too deep, and a part of me is concerned. But another part, that grows bigger every day, never wants to be saved.
Getting back to my truck, I pause my music, shooting off a text to Bexley. Maybe I should go to her house and check on her. It can't have been easy for her. I know if I was in her shoes, I'd be pissed.
I wanted to see her last night, but by the time I calmed down enough to be around the crowd of people, Hunter told us that Bexley had already left. I assume she went to the beach with the other Cedar Heights students.
That's where we'll be tonight.
I have half a mind to invite her—not to rub it in her face, but to enjoy the sound of lapping water, gentle breeze, and heat from the bonfire with her. There's no way she'd ever agree though. She hates being around anyone from Willowbrook at the best of times, let alone after last night.
The engine revs as I buckle my seatbelt, checking my cell for any replies. Nothing—which is disappointing. Maybe she's still asleep or busy.
Maybe she's busy with Turner.
Clenching my teeth, I'm angry at myself for the visual. The thought of the two of them licking each other's wounds has me on edge again.
Before I know it, I'm heading in the direction of Cedar's side in Ridgeview Valley, following the road I know too well now.
Bexley's house comes into view when I turn down her street, and to my relief, there's no other cars there.
Except… there's no cars or trucks at all.
That's weird.
