killer instinct - || h.s. ||

24 *

TRIGGER WARNING: mention of self-harm scars

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" he's a bitch and he's cryin', 'cause he knows you're mine "

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aurora astor. *

That morning that other night, a few days ago, wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. He didn't leave in a frenzy or oddly, he just woke up before me. I fluttered my eyes open, just barely, to the soft feeling of his light kisses along my jaw and neck as his body weight rested on top of me and he muttered the words: I really have to go.

I could only manage to hum back and kiss him once more before he left yet again. The remaining exhaustion in me captured me again, falling back asleep as I heard the front door shut. I woke up again without his warmth and cradled in his arms – like some odd fever dream.

I didn't mind it, I didn't even expect him to stay. I could only appreciate the nights we have before the morning sunlight comes.

He's always like the feeling of inspiration striking in the middle of the night. It's the kind that makes you intently stay up and drive all your attention into the thought circling in your head, waiting to be unleashed onto paper.

It allows the warmth and comfort of familiarity in a place of nostalgia. In moments like these, while the world sleeps, my mind is still awake and it's a tranquil feeling to be up while the world's silent.

But today's another day, another fight at the Pit tonight. Another useless day in trying to get closer to these answers I need.

So, I'm currently in my favorite spot: the car. Lou's driving to the Pit and I'm sitting back here smoking the usual, a cigarette, to calm my nerves. I tie the silk ribbon of my mask over my eyes with my hair pulled up, needing the money more than ever tonight and every night that follows.

"Rory, are you listening?" I hear Lou from the front as he pulls into the dark parking lot crowded for tonight. He pulls me from my own thoughts, sitting up a little in between the two front seats on the armrest as I look at the both of them upfront.

"Hm?"

Jules groans as Lou shakes his head in obvious coaching annoyance in my lack of focus right now.

"Forget it, get your head in the fuckin' game," Lou instructs and I manage to just laugh a little, getting out of the car to feel the relief spread across my body with a deep exhale.

My burning cigarette rests comfortably in between my fingers as I shut the door, duffle in hand. I walk with Jules and Lou, this trio of us, as I have my hood up and leggings tight on my lower half.

I hum to myself, trying to get in the right headspace as we walk in the cold to the front.

"Angel," Jules mutters this time, and the bouncer nods at the group of us. We bounce down the dingy stairs, pushing open the door for the familiar scene to hit us. The Pit in its full glory – red lights and loud music pumping through my veins. The caged ring waiting for me in the center of this underground space.

Lou and Jules start through the sea of warm bodies in front of us as I follow.

I try to keep my head down as I follow behind my friends whilst hollowing out my cheeks to take a long drag, getting bumped into, until that weird sixth sense kicks in that make my blood run cold.

Almost as if someone is watching me and I lift my head, scanning around intently at all the people in here – the task nearly impossible with the number of people packed into this place.