Lonely Road (being rewritten)

Blog 4

Hello Beautiful Readers,

     Today I went to go visit your grave and instead of feeling sad, I felt happy. I know that sounds really bad but the person who is 6 feet under inflicted a lot of damage on me. The person who is 6 feet under tried to rape me. The person has hit me and left bruises. The person has almost killed me but shot the person who jumped in front of me instead. Why I went to visit your grave, I do not know. Maybe because today is your birthday and I felt like it, but I am happy that you are gone.

Anyways, last blog post I told y'all that Caleb is an illegal underground street fighter. Let's all jump up and down excitedly because we think he is so cool. I honestly think he is an ultimate dumbass. What I didn't tell you is that later that day we had a deep conversation. He basically apologized to me and told me that he has been busy with doctor appointments and business stuff. Being the girl who is head over heels in love with a boy, I forgave him very quickly. What a big mistake that was.

  We started to hang out a lot for the next couple of weeks and by hangout I really mean making out. Caleb told me that he liked me and vice versa, so now we are dating...sorta...unofficially. Caleb said that he doesn't do labels and now years later I understand why but I didn't back then. I guess you can say that everything started to go down hill the day he invited me to his fighting match...

*01/10/11*

     What the hell does one wear to a fight? Usually at this time I would call my best friend, Logan, and ask for her advice, but I am the "fashion person" in our friendship. This isn't one of those situations where I could just google "What to wear to an underground illegal fight." After a good fifteen minute battle with myself, I decided to dress cute but sporty. I picked a pair of grey and black Victoria's Secret leggings and a black v-neck shirt with my gray Nike shoes. My hair is in a messy ponytail with a black hat on top of my head to cover said mess. My glasses are perched on my face and I have a small layer of mascara on my lashes. Nothing incredibly fancy but nothing completely hobo looking.

     Lately, I have been going to the gym with Caleb just to watch him box. Let me tell you, that boy looks extremely hot when he is sweaty and all worked up. I am totally ready for tonight to see him covered in sweat and being all worked up all over again. This boy has a solid set of abs on him and trust me, I am not complaining. I will appreciate and admire from as close as he will let me get. My phone starts to ring and it breaks my dirty little mind out of its trance.

"Hey Drew," I yell into the phone. To say I am excited would be an understatement.

"Are you ready little one?" I hear a car horn blare outside and I walk over to my window. Outside on the street is the familiar red Corvette in all of it's glory.

"Heading downstairs now," I hang up the phone and rush downstairs. Dylan was sitting on the couch with...Tina? Trina? Tara? Let's just say another one of his little sluts. Poor girl doesn't realize what she is getting herself into. I yell a good bye and rush out the door. The brisk cold air hits my bare arms and makes me shiver all over. Maybe I should have thought about a jacket. Oh well, too late now. I walk over to the passenger side of the Corvette and get in. I actually have a seat to sit on since Jack rode with Caleb to help him warm up.

     In the car Andrew went over all the basic rules to me. One: I can't be anywhere by myself. Two: Don't look any of the men in the eye unless you want to be taken advantage of. Three: Do not talk about the fight or the club. What are we in the movie Fight Club? Is Brad Pitt going to show up in all his fucking glory...God I hope so.

    We have finally arrived after two hours of driving. Andrew parked a block away from the arena and so now we are walking through a sketchy little neighborhood. From afar you can see a small brown brick building with a dark green door. As Andrew and I get closer, I notice a tall, buff man leaning against the door with a cigarette in his hand. When we arrive to the man, Andrew whispered something into the man's ear, and he let us in.