I punch the bag with my right fist, feeling the small bones in my hand bend with the force. I do it again with my left, getting the same result as I put all my power into it.

  My nostrils flare with each breath, sweat falling down in my eyes from the relentless attacks I keep sending at the punching bag.

  Today is now Friday, August 19th. Three days after I won my first fight, and now four days until my next one.

  I grunt as I hit it extra hard this time, the bag swinging back four feet in the air from its chain.

  Angling my head down towards the floor, I count each of my breaths, tactically regaining my breathing.

My head snaps up at the sound of a box hitting the ground, my eyes landing on Felix's form.

  He's across the room, bent down as he works on stacking some equipment up against the wall.

  My brows furrow before I look back down.

  He grabs an extra large box, grunting as he attempts to lift it. Seeming to be having some difficulties.

   Making up my mind, I walk over towards him. Stopping on the other side of the box, I bend down as I grab the other side. Felix looks up at me for a second, then we both lift the box up, moving it over where Felix nods towards.

  We set it down. "Gracias." He says, looking at me with kind eyes. "My back isn't like it used to be." He rubs the back of his neck, wincing as he flexes his back.

   I take a breath, hoping I'm not going to regret this later. "Is that why you don't fight?" I question, immediately looking down at the floor.

   He seems a little confused. I shrug. "Your back. Is that why you don't compete?" I elaborate, biting my lip in a attempt to stifle anymore questions I can feel bubbling up from inside.

  He stays quiet for a second. "Sí." He regretfully answers, hanging his head down as-if he was ashamed.

  I cross my arms, those questions growing stronger each second. "But why would you even join this slump?" I can't help but ask. "Didn't you have a choice? Unlike me." I mumble the last part out, hoping he might not of heard me.

But he does.

He walks over to a shelf, dusting it off with a rag before he sets a box up on it.

  I grab my water, taking a long sip before I recap the bottle. He gives me a sidelong glance. "It's true I had a choice, unlike you." He nods, his voice quiet.

  "But sometimes life makes those decisions for you." He wryly shakes his head, sitting down on a wooden stool seven feet in front of me.

   Wow, he's actually talking to me.....But maybe it's never actually been that he's purposely not talking around me. Maybe he's just shy, or - I glance around, the room empty besides us.

   Or maybe he has a reason not to talk.

  "When I was nineteen my mother was diagnosed with cancer. Meaning she had to go and live at a hospital where they could properly take care of her." He takes a breath, finding it difficult to speak. "It was just me, my sister, and my mother at the time. Our father left when I was too young to even remember him." His eyes harden.

  "The hospital bills started rolling in, and my measly job at a gas station wasn't cutting it." His brows furrow in regret. "I tried to get a better job, but no one would except a person without a college degree."

  He sighs. "A old friend that I'd broken off with due to what he was into, found out somehow and introduced me to this place."

   "I decided I had no choice. So I became one of their fighters, their slaves." He rubs his back. "It worked for a little while - or at least that's what I told myself. The bills were getting paid, my sister could afford to go to college - though she was unaware that I was illegally winning the very money she was using." His eyes sadden.

   "Three years I trained and competed with their best here, three years I kept the money rolling in." He winces at a memory. "Then disaster hit."

   "I knew I should've stopped sooner, should've stopped before my luck ran out. But the feeling you get every time you win." Something glints in his eyes. "Is priceless, addicting almost."

   "Our mother died on the same day I was preparing for a big fight." He sadly says. "But instead of facing the facts and going home to comfort my sister. I ran." He folds his arms over his knees.

   "I came back here, I prepared for that fight. Hoping it might help to keep my mind off everything else."

   "It didn't work as well as I'd hope." His nose crinkles. "I was up against one of our rivals best fighter, and I was distracted."

   "My mind wasn't on the fight, and before I knew it, I was rammed in my back with the force of what felt like a train." He grimaces. "He somehow managed to hit me in just the right spot and my back snapped - literally."

    He blows a breath out. "Ends up he broke my back, essentially ending my fighting career." He shrugs. "I suppose I had it coming to me though."

   He stands back up, wincing as he bends down to pick another box up. "And now I'm stuck with a bum back that likes to act up on me every now and then." He gives a quiet dry laugh. "I was given the job of assisting Frances coach his so called 'pupils' after my back had healed. And here I am, one year from then." He walks a few feet to the left, setting the box on a shelf.

  I stare at him a second, not doubting a word he's saying. "So why haven't you left then? You obviously don't like it here." I motion around us, referring to the fact he never looks happy.

   He gives another humorless laugh, turning to face me. "Because once you're in. It's nearly impossible to get out."

   I lean my head to the side. "Why don't you escape, give the police some evidence so they can round this organization up once and for all?" My eyes harden.

   So they can get rid of the last reminders of Scorpia.

  He shakes his head. "It's not that simple, it never is." He turns his head away. "They made threats, threats I can't ignore."

   His sister.

  We're not that different him and me. Both of us are stuck here because of things we care for.

   Well that's just great.

   A thought hits me. "So why are you giving up, yet you told me not to?" I ask, remembering his words a couple weeks ago.

    It's been that long already?

    Almost a whole month since I've last seen....

   My heart gives a painful tug, my shoulders slouching.

   Since I've last seen the Browns, Mack, and Polly. And even longer since I've seen Mrs. Jones - someone I've realize I've missed just as much.

   Felix opens his mouth, only to slam it shut as the door across the room opens.

   My heart jumps, my shoulders straightening on their own accord as I look down at the floor.

  Frances walks in the room, his boots echoing around the room. "What the hell are you two doing? Having a tea party?" He exclaims.

   I hold my breath as I feel his gaze land on me. "Why aren't you over here practicing? I didn't give you permission to take a break."

   I take a breath, looking up at him. "Sorry, sir." I walk forward, heading for the punching bag.

   "Hold it." He suddenly says as I walk past, making my skin crawl. "Today's plans have changed." He informs me, not sounding too happy about it.

   Changed?

   "Yes. Today well be doing something....different." My head swings over to the door as Ben walks through, chest tightening.

   I glance up at the clock on the wall: 5:47 P.M.

   "Come on." Frances mumbles, walking ahead of me. I take a hesitant step forward, feeling a tad bit better as Felix also begins to follow Frances.

  I quickly take my hand wraps off, placing them on a hook by the door as I pass.

   Ben takes the lead, a smug expression on his face. Frances follows closely behind, his hands behind his back.

   I glance over at Felix who's walking next to me, raising an eyebrow up at him. He shrugs, looking completely clueless.

   Ben leads us up the long hallway, taking us to the last door. He walks in, us following behind.

   Two other men stand around in the room, watching a small tv that's on a large desk. Clutter fills the room, a uncomfortable heat inside as-If they actually have a fire burning-

   My eyes land on a small open fire place that's built into the white brick wall, red flames roaring inside.

   Why would they have a fire going now? It's the middle of the summer.

  I get a nagging suspicion in my head as I spot a odd table-like-bench in the middle of the medium sized room.

  It's about six feet long, and three feet wide, slanted at a slight downward angle.

What....?

   The two large guys turn around to face us, their eyes slightly widening as they land on me. "You want to do this, on him?" The one on the left asks Ben, pointing over at me with incredulous eyes.

   "Yes." Ben simply answers with, eying them. "Is there a problem?"

  They immediately straighten up, shaking their heads. "No boss." They chorus.

    Ben nods in satisfaction, turning to face me. "You see Alex, it's customary that each member of each gang gets their specific gangs logo tattooed onto them for easy identification in the ring."

    My face pales.

   "And even though you're a unwilling member of this gang. You're still a member none the less." He smiles. "Which means you get one too."

   I almost take a step back, my mind connecting the dots.

  Ben walks over to the fire. "But, since you're so special." He pulls something out with a leather glove. "I decided to make yours a little more.....permanent." He faces me, holding a iron rod out in front of him, the end that was just in the roaring fire a bright red.

   My heart stops.

  "Tattoos are fine and all that." He carelessly waves a hand. "But a brand that's seared into your skin is much more....fetching I think." He gives another sickening smile. "And this one is specially made for you, Alex." He walks forward, stopping.

   "And don't you worry, you'll be fine for your fight in a couple days." He stares at me. "It'll be just like old times. Won't it?" He walks a little closer. "Razim sure had fun when he burned that other one on you."

   I'm suddenly seized with a uncontrollable panic that spreads through every inch of my body.

   I frantically step back, my eyes glued on the rod in Ben's hands. Images flash unbidden before my eyes, my heart picking up inside my chest.

   "Grab him."

   My breathing picks up as I feel someone tightly grab my left wrist, my mind automatically pulling my arm back in a attempt to lose it.

   It just tightens more, pulling me forward. I struggle, tugging my arm back so hard I feel something pop.

   "Help Frances before he hurts himself!"

   The voice seems to drift off somewhere in the back of my mind, the only thing being important to me at the moment, being the only thing I can't do.

   Get away.

   I literally drop to the floor as I feel another hand grab my other arm, this blind panic stealing all rational thoughts from me.

   No! I have to get away! Not this, I can't go through this again!

   Frances and one of the other guys drag me across the floor, towards the bench thing.

   I continue to try and pull away, my legs even coming out to try and kick them away.

  There's a sudden flash of pain across my right shoulder as Frances smacks me, his face one of pure rage. "Control yourself you piece of -" He gets cut off as my leg hits his shin, his hand coming down to smack my face this time.

   My head snaps back with the force, eyes growing cloudy as I restrain the tears that are brimming at the corners of my eyes.

   But his words and threats don't do anything to stall the panic that's still building up inside me.

   No!

   I blindly look around for Felix, the only person in this hellhole that makes me feel even just slightly better. The fear only growing as I find no sign of him, my lungs kicking into second gear as they work overtime to deliver the growing amount of oxygen I find I'm needing.

   I'm abruptly lifted up off the ground, getting set face down on top of that table/bench.

   I blindly swing my arms and legs around, trying to get away.

   Frances grabs the back of my head, harshly tugging my hair before he pushes the side of my face down so it's locked in place.

   I feel someone grab both my legs in a deadlock, firmly pressing them down against the board.

   Someone else grabs the bottom of my grey T-shirt, roughly jerking it up and over my head as they pull it completely off.

  I feel completely naked as my back becomes exposed, my chest only growing tighter with each second.

  Hands grab my still flailing arms, holding them painfully in place against my back.

   "No!" I half yell as I attempt to move, my limbs completely weighed down with what feels like a hundred pounds each.

   Frances keeps one of his hands on the side of my head, and one on my right shoulder. Everyone essentially keeping me from moving a muscle.

   My breathing comes out in gargled gasps, my rapidly moving chest confined against the table. Which only serves to make breathing harder than it already is.

  I flinch away as something cold and wet brushes over my left shoulder blade, another barely recognizable 'no' coming out of my mouth as sob-like cries get mixed in with it.

   Frances lifts my head up by using my hair, a gag slipping in between my teeth before it's wrapped around my head. The ends tightly tied together.

  "No." I desperately mumble through the gag, my hands balling into fists behind me.

  I hear the sound of something stoking the fire. Then slow footsteps walk towards me.

  I tense, attempting to struggle free one last time. They all just tighten their grips, Frances pushing my head harder against the board.

   A tear slides down my cheek before dissolving into the fabric of the gag as a person comes to stand on my left, right in my line of sight.

  He holds that long branding iron in his leather gloved hands, the end glowing a fresh bright red-ish orange after being replaced back in the fire.

   A whimper breaks out of my mouth, heart pumping faster.

  He seems to look my shoulder over, his steady eyes calculating. He lifts the rod up, angling it over my left shoulder.

   Then he brings it down.

  I let a loud cry out as the raging hot end sizzles against my skin, burning through multiple layers of skin before he finally stops pushing down.

   Garbled gasps leave my lips, my teeth biting down hard on the gag as I push my head against the board - like I actually think it'll help to quench the fiery pain. My hands repeatedly clinch and unclinch as a prominent, sizzling hot pain washes over my entire left side before going completely numb.

   I clinch my eyes shut as he leaves the rod there for thirty long seconds, a sudden horrible smell wafting up my nose that leaves my insides twisting in disgust.

   It's like something akin to charcoal mixed with beef on a frying pan. The smell being my own skin melting off. Something hard to explain.

   I gag, forcing myself to keep my lunch down unless I want to get vomit stuck inside my mouth.

   But as I've learned, my body doesn't like to listen to me.

   He lifts the rod up, steam still waiting up around him as a fresh gust of that horrible stench hits my senses again. My stomach revolts, vomit unpleasantly traveling up my throat and stinging my nose.

   I try to angle my head downwards in hope it'll help, only Frances holds it steady. Not caring that I'm throwing up in my mouth with nowhere for it to go.

   Tears slide down my cheeks as I continue to gag, my full stomach unfortunately deciding to empty everything.

   I choke as it just keeps coming, no room left for it to go with my mouth closed off with the tightly tied fabric. I feel it sprout up my nose, tears falling faster down my face as helplessness hits my chest harder then a brick wall.

   The gag is suddenly torn off my face, all the vomit that'd been stuck in my mouth falling to the floor with a nasty splat.

   I angle my mouth towards the floor, coughing as it continues to stream from my mouth.

  It finally stops, my mind fuzzy with exhaustion.

  My left shoulder blade pulses with a faint pain, feeling like there's something stiff stretched across it.

   I let a few sniffles out, my eyes fluttering as my hands uncurl from their death grip on nothing. A odd lightness enveloping me.

  Somebody steps in front of me, my eyes automatically going up.

  Ben stands there, looking down at me with satisfied eyes, his arms folded behind his back.

   He smiles.

  "Perfect."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A/N

  Oh gee, I feel so bad for Alex. 😭😭 Sorry for the late update. But hey, I actually updated three books today!

Questions:

   1.) Any new thoughts on Felix now that you know some of his backstory?

  2.) Do you feel like something's going to happen? 🤔😏

  Remember! (Yes, I'm still advertising this) I've got a new book out now! Unmasking MidKnight. Please check it out! I'd appreciate it!❤️

Next update: Next week hopefully.

Maggy