Chapter 77: Chapter 77
Chapter 77 Help from whom?
That girl reminded him of himself.
While he didn't know her full background, he knew she's been through something similar he has been through.
But despite that, she was still a kind person. His experience, his past, had made him bitter, angry, and cruel. It had scarred him physically, the marks of what they did to him cover his skin, and it disgusts him.
But the extent of what they had done to him couldn't be seen by the eyes of humanity. The worst damage had been done to him mentally, and that's where he struggled the most. He failed in that area and the demons from his past drove him mad.
They were the cause of his nightmares. They were the cause of his pain.
And perhaps, maybe his downfall is that he chooses to be stuck in the past. He struggles to let go of his past and lives in the realm of revenge and anger that is tearing him apart. He, combined with his horrific past, will be the death of him if he doesn't seek out some form of help soon.
But...help from whom?
For Colton, every human on this earth was against him, even if he does seek professional help for his problems, how could he? He believed all people -trustworthy or not - had some kind of hidden agenda against him. He believed that if he opened up to anyone, they would use that information and use it against him.
His severe distrust in others stems from his upbringing. It is deeply rooted in the trauma nobody should have to face in their lives. Angry, violent behavior accompanies his distrust as well as detachment.
He was a ticking time bomb roaming the streets, but he didn't see the problem with himself. He believed what he was feeling was normal, and he used those intense, dangerous emotions as motivation to seek vengeance against those who have wronged him in his life.
Nobody can save him, not even that girl who he.....somewhat admires for her will to move on. She was so much unlike him. She had been sexually abused just as he, and yet, she is healing and he is not.
That made him angry.
How could she move on so quickly and yet, he is still trapped?
This made him full of rage.
Wouldn't she want revenge, just like himself? She should be angry and vengeful to the bastard know as life, but she looks at peace with it. She's accepted what's been done to her and tries to move on.
And he, he refuses to do so. He can't let anything go, not when he's been chasing revenge almost all his life.
Not when he's closing in on his father who has moved on and has cleaned up his act.
Colton threw his bottle of whiskey against the wall. It shattered upon impact and the glass shards rained down upon the ground in glittering, sharp pieces. The stench of the alcohol was strong as it dripped down the wall.
He was seething with rage.
His own father, the one who had abused him and sold him to into sexual slavery, had sobered up. When he found out his father got to move on with his life and not him, he was outraged.
It wasn't fair that the oppressor got to cause harm to the weak and yet, years later, got to move on. His father was the root of his pain, yet he thinks he can just move on and live a normal life?
Colton wasn't about to let that happen.
He wasn't about to let his father live out his days in a decent home. He wasn't about to let his father get away with his sins.
His sins was the reason why Colton was suffering in the first place.
He wanted to make his father feel the pain he felt as a child. He wanted to make his father feel the same pain he remembers when he looked his father in the eyes and begged him not to beat his back raw with the cane anymore.
He wanted to make his father feel the pain himself had felt when the man he called father locked him in the dark closet and nearly starved him to death when he was only six years old.
He wanted his father to feel the pain of cigarette burns upon his back, just like he had felt when his father had stripped him one night and pinned him roughly to the ground and burned his back with cigarettes.
He wanted to crush his father's identity, just like his father had done by refusing to give his own own son a name.
He wanted his father to feel the betrayal, the hopelessness, the terror, and the painful heartache he experienced as he was handed over to the traffickers that dark day.
He wanted to look his father in the eyes and watch as the light faded from them. He wanted to see his father in pain and suffering.
He wanted revenge.
Colton thinks that maybe, if he achieves this revenge that somehow, all will be better. That somehow, he will be satisfied. Maybe, if he got his revenge, his intense emotions would fade.
Revenge. Revenge. Revenge.
Revenge could fix everything, and it was the only solution for his problems.
His father traded his son's sanity, dignity, and chances of living a normal, happy life away all in exchange for what?
Cash?
Cash to buy more alcohol, drugs, and temporary happiness?
Did mere items really hold more worth than Colton does? Colton seemed to have believed so, after all theses years with no love, no nurturing, no life.
Colton got up from his worn out chair. The glass of the broken bottle crunched under his boots as he made his way out of his room.
He was angry, and when Colton was angry, he was uncontrollable. He had an anger problem, and he dealt with it the only way he knew how.
Fighting.
Street fighting.
He earned money from the fights but that's not what he cared about. He loved the way that which each strike of his fists, his anger dissolved little by little. He loved the blood, the sweat, and the adrenaline.
He loved it all.
He pictured the men he was beating as his abusers. He pictured them as his father or his traffickers, which made it even more thrilling, violent, and bloody.
He pictured those who had wounded him and only, if only, the ones who abused him could take their place.
But other people would just have to do for now.
He stalked down the streets, migrating towards the darker parts of town where the sun did not seem to shine much. Where light was rare and the touch of kindness was extinct.
He found his way into a trashed building that was used from illegal drug deals, dog fights, and street fighting.
The fighting ring was made up of panels that was stained with the blood of dogs and man. Colton pushed his way through the crowded room of cheering criminals and found himself standing in the front, watching the latest fights.
The two in the ring fighting were young. Perhaps late teens.
If they're finding themselves in the midst of the type of people that surrounds them, then chances are, they've wandered down the wrong path, just as Colton had.
What a shame.
Colton watches as the smaller teen gains the upper hand on his larger component. They both fight sloppily, lacking experience, coordination, and skills.
Colton took no pride in calling himself an expert fighter, but he was. He didn't feel like violence was something to be proud of, but for him it was a way of life, all he's ever known, making it seem normal to him.
He struggled to even know himself....his morals were always attacking each other. What was right, and what was wrong? Had he wandered so far down the wrong path that a sense of right and wrong had been distorted?
He hated that he couldn't even figure himself out.
It was like an itch he was unable to scratch.
Bets had been placed on the winner and some of the men cheered while others cursed loud as they watched the two teens fight. Both of the fighters had managed to obtain bloody noses and their fists were cracked and blood stained.
When the smaller teen finally had subdued his opponent for twelve seconds, he was announced the winner and pried from the losing teen. A small sum of money was awarded and Colton watched as the injured teens limped in differing directions.
One would be eating tonight and the other would not.
More fights were called and Colton eventually hopped over the panels and stood in the ring. He stood across from his opponent and he narrowed his eyes at the six foot two that stood proudly across from him.
Once the bets had been placed, it was time to fight.
The men circled each other and sized each other up. Colton knew his opponent was going to be a tough one, but with enough strength and experience, anything was possible.
For Colton never loses.
Colton attacked first. He lunged at his opponent with all his might, his muscles plunging him into the realm of violence. Swinging his arm, he landed his fist straight and center into his opponent's face.
His victim recoiled back at the force of Colton's blow, but it didn't seem to slow down. Instead, he growled angrily and charged at Colton like a raging bull. Unfortunately for him, Colton managed to plant his feet firmly against the ground, so when he attempted to kick him off of his feet, his efforts were futile.
The two men were head to head, sweat dripped down their foreheads and the loud, boisterous cheering of those around them blurred and echoed into their ears. Time seemed to slow for the two fighters and their heavy, hot breath mingled with one another.
Colton was unprepared when his opponent knocked him to the ground. His elbow had collided with his jaw and the force of the hit had sent him spiraling to his near defeat. The man pinned Colton to the ground and drove his fists savagely into his face, displaying no mercy.
The sickening crack of bone was loud, and the men watching cheered even louder than before.
Colton was washed with a wave of nausea, and he felt his own vomit rising in his throat. His vision blurred and the taste of his blood was metallic and hot against his tongue.
Blood from his broken nose washed over his lips and down his chin, staining his neck and shirt. Colton groaned, and dread settled in his chest.
Colton never loses.
Suddenly, his opponent's weight lifted from off his body. He took a deep breath of fresh air before a foot was buried into his ribs, causing him to roll over.
"C'mon, now, fucking get up and fight like a man!" The man screamed at him before kicking him in the side once more.
Colton coughed, his lungs felt like they could collapse and his ribs seemed to groan and scream as they painfully scraped against each other.
"Get up you fucking worthless piece of shit."
Colton groaned loudly when echos of his past came creeping up on him. He remembers vivid childhood memories when he was told by his parents, and others, on countless occasions, that he was worthless.
"Worthless. I should've aborted you." His mother said.
"You're not my child, but a worthless piece of shit." His father told him.
"He's too broken. Customers don't want broken cargo, he's worthless." The traffickers had discussed in front of him.
"Listen here, you bastard. You are lower than the dirt I walk upon. Nobody wants you, you are worthless." One of his rapist had screamed at him.
"Get out of my sight, worthless son of a bitch!"
"Don't ever touch me, child, you hear me? You're a filthy, worthless life that doesn't deserve a mother."
Worthless.
Broken.
Filthy.
Worthless.
Colton screamed in anger and utter pain, his sudden outburst surprising everyone around him. Springing to his feet in an instant, his opponent became intimidated. His eyes seemed to have darkened and a monster seemed to have been pushed forth, seeking violence in the name of revenge and bloodshed.
Colton pounced on the man, and like a rabid animal, he began attacking viciously. He drove his fists in the man's face and ripped his skin apart. His own knuckles busted and bled, mixing with his victim's blood.
"Don't fucking tell me I'm worthless!" Colton screamed, his voice breaking when it met with emotion.
The man cough and sputtered under him. "Y-you're worthless." He spat back.
Colton wrapped his fists around the man's neck and dug his fingers into his throat, suffocating him.
"I already fucking know!" Colton screamed, going ballistic as he repeatedly slammed the man's head against the ground.
This went on for what seemed like eternity until someone finally rushed forwards and pried the angry brute from the nearly dead man lying on the ground.
"Let go of me, don't touch me!" Colton roared, trying to rip himself free from the grasp the men around him had encased him in. They dragged him away, kicking and screaming until rage met reality.
The fresh air met his damp skin and the men pushed him, wanting him to leave. Colton stumbled and fell, ending up on his knees. He was hunched over, breathing heavily, obviously injured and shaken by the ordeal.
Several dollar bills fluttered through the air before landing in front of his bowed face. His eyes found the cash but he didn't react. His hands were shaking and and anger lingered like a bad smell in the air.
Then, the men left him and he was alone with his freshly earned money.
Money he had won by fighting.
Because Colton never loses.