Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 95559 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95559 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 478(@200wpm)___ 382(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
I check in at the desk and then maneuver myself to the front of the makeshift ring, which is just hundreds of men gathered in a circle. The two fighting now are circling each other. When one threatens a punch, the other steps back. This goes on for a good five minutes until someone from the crowd pushes one of the fighters into the other, and then it’s on. I pretend it’s me and practice my moves with each punch thrown. It’s not like we’re professionals or anything. We’re just a bunch of dumb fuckers looking for excitement and to make a few extra bucks.
There’s a tap on my shoulder, and when I turn, the “owner” beckons me to follow him. We end up in a corner, and he tells me I’m next. I agree and take off my shoes and shirt. I’m thankful I wore shorts out of the locker room because fighting in jeans sucks. I need as much movement as I can get.
When the current bout ends, I step onto the old gym mats someone brings with them to each fight. They’re caked with dried blood, they’re ripped, and most of the padding is gone. They’re used to prevent skulls from breaking open when someone falls.
The guy before me sizes me up. I let him. He’s a bit shorter than me, and his arms are stubby, giving me a reach advantage. I roll my shoulders, put my hands up and march toward him. He swings and connects, stunning me. And it’s in this moment where I decide I need the pain, and I allow him to pummel the shit out of me until I blackout.
There’s noise all around me. Someone is talking fast while something is poking me. I hear cops, bushes, and then I feel something cold against my leg. A bright light shines in my eyes, and I try to bat it away, but my arms won’t move. I’m trapped. I want to move my head away, but something holds it in place. But what?
I moan. It’s the only thing I can do.
“Can you hear me?” a voice says.
Another moan.
“You’re going to be okay. You’re on the way to the hospital.”
Another moan.
“I know you’re in pain, but we’re going to take care of you. Just hang tight. We’re almost to the hospital.”
Moan.
“I wish you’d wake up and tell me your name,” the voice says. “I’d like to call your family and let them know where they can find you. I’m sure they’re worried.”
No one cares about me.
“All right, my friend, we are here. Let’s get your fixed up.”
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Something is pinching my hand. It hurts and is annoying. I reach for whatever it is and then cry out in pain. My eyes open, and my hand instantly goes to my head, and then I cry out again. I take on my second fight of the night, this time with my consciousness, but quickly lose that one as well.
“Good morning,” a man in blue scrubs says to me. I glance at him with blurred vision.
“Morning.” My voice is raspy. “Where am I?”
“Northport General,” he says. “You were brought in my ambulance two nights ago.”
“Two nights?”
“Yep, it seems you were mugged and left on the side of the road.”
“Mugged?”
“What’s your name?”
“Kyler,” I say. “Rose.”
“Great, now we can put a name on your chart and stop calling you John. You definitely don’t look like a John, but I imagine you don’t look much like a Kyler either at the moment.” He flashes his light into my eyes, and I close them.
“Everything hurts.”
“I imagine. You took a beating, but nothing is broken. We’ll keep you for another night, and then you can go home. Is there anyone I can call for you?”
I start to shake my head, but it hurts too much. The nurse nods as if he understands and tells me he’ll be back with some pain meds for me. When he returns, he puts something in my IV, and it’s a welcome relief. It takes about five seconds to knock me out.
When I wake again, the same nurse is in my room. “How are you feeling?”
“Better,” I say as I try to sit up. I wince and struggle through the pain.
“The doctor has been in a few times to check your vitals. Your scans don’t show any internal damage. You’re very lucky.”
“Yeah.”
“The police will be by later to file a report.”
I nod but know I won’t file anything. “Can I eat?”
“I’ll have lunch brought in.”
“How long have I been here?”
“Four days now,” he says.
Four days.
“Is there anyone I can call?” he asks.
I shake my head. “No, I’m fine.”
He nods and leaves.
I’m flipping through the TV channels while picking at my lunch when my door opens. If ever there was a time to call for a nurse, it’s now. Standing at the foot of my bed is Adam Nelson.