Revival

by Rebecca Sherwin

  “It won't work.”

  “What?” I growled, my voice rushing out like there was an animal inside trying to break out.

  There was.

  “It won't work,” he repeated. “There’s no resistance. That piece of stuffed leather will not allow you to release whatever it is you need to get out.”

  “Are you a shrink now?”

  “I know what you’re feeling.” He moved closer, unzipping his sweater and tossing it aside.

  “No.” I shook my head. “You don’t.”

  “It’s not what you wanted, is it? This life? Something happened, didn’t it? I know a trigger when I see one, Cut Throat.”

  I snarled, “Don’t call me that.”

  He moved closer.

  “Why? What happened?”

  “You’re crazy.”

  “And you’re going crazy.” Another step closer. “Let it out.”

  My breathing became shallow, my nostrils flared with the animalistic need to be free.

  “Leave me alone, Jesse.”

  “Cut Throat.” My fists tightened when he repeated those two words. “Hit me, Cut Throat. Hit me.”

  I shook my head. “Get back, Jesse.”

  “Cut Throat,” he said again. My vision turned red. I imagined Jesse dripping with blood from cuts I’d caused. “You’re Cut Throat fucking Curtis.”

  My blood boiled over, the heat consuming me. It was unbearable.

  “Cut-”

  I hit him. My right arm swung out and my fist connected squarely with his jaw. He stumbled sideways and dropped his hand to the floor to steady himself. He shook his head, pushed off the floor and stood up. I faced him; my chest heaved and my lungs fought for air. I’d just hit my friend, the only one I had. Before I could open my mouth to apologise, Jesse hit me back. Hard. His tightly curled fist hit me in the face and I fell back against the wall in shock. A fraction of the rage dissolved as the swelling moved in. I felt better. My cheek ached, and the throbbing pain was a welcome physical distraction.

  “Again,” I hissed, keeping my head down to conceal my shame.

  Jesse stepped closer; his feet came into my line of sight. His hand grabbed the back of my neck and he brought my head down to his shoulder. I took a deep breath, holding it while I waited. He hit me in the side and I grunted as the pain shot through my body.

  “Again.”

  My eyes watered, my teeth bit down on my top lip and I fisted his shirt. His hits were slow, deliberate; each pulse of pain relaxed me. I took every punch, exhaling a hiss on impact and controlling my breathing to keep the crippling pain bearable. Jesse took more and more of my weight, until he released me and stepped back, leaving me to tumble to the floor on my hands and knees.

  “Better?” He asked.

  I nodded, unable to speak through shattered breaths.

  “There are no broken bones. You’ll bruise like a bitch, but it will heal. Have they got conditioning rooms here?”

  “Of course,” I spluttered. “I own the place.”

  “Good. Get up.”

  He gripped my elbow and yanked me to my feet.

  “Go and get in the bath. Do you have a spare suit in the office?”

  I nodded, setting my hands on my knees and taking deep breaths.

  “I’ll go and get it. Get your head in the game, Curtis. We are going to sort you out.”

  His palm thumped on my back; he ignored the shocked garble of pain that shot from me, grabbed his sweatshirt and stepped out of the room, leaving me with nothing but my thoughts.

  Well, shit. I felt better after a beating. How fucked up is that?

  I scrambled to collect my things, shoved everything under one arm and used my free hand against the wall to support me as I limped to the conditioning rooms.

  Jesse knocked on the door not long after I’d gone into the locker room in a towel that barely covered my hand, let alone anything else. He threw my clean set of clothes over the top of the door and I dressed myself quickly, trying to ignore the tightening and inflammation that had spread around my midriff.

  When I came out, Jesse was leaning on the wall opposite with a worn journal in his hands. A journal I hadn’t touched for a year.

  “What’s this?” he asked, lifting it so I could see the worn leather strap and faded catch.

  “Nothing.” I shrugged, folding up my clothes, shoving everything in the right pockets and arranging my hair. “It’s an old project I was working on.”

  “Curtis…I can help you.”

  Twenty Six

  I stepped into Hell…and the pain followed.

  March 19th, 2011

  Jesus fucking Christ, a guy can't catch a break.

  I’d made Jesse wait to tell me why, and how, he could help me; I’d just sorted my head out and didn’t want to have to take another beating to get Ollie out of my head. He understood, thankfully dropped the subject and we headed to Kent, listening to music on the way, making small talk and discussing his strategy for the night’s fight.

  It took everything to push aside the pain that reared up when we turned up at the place where Ollie lost his life. I promised Jesse I’d watch his fight, and I would, but I couldn’t stand ringside. His fight began and I stayed at the back and walked around the arena, hiding in the shadows so I could pretend I was anywhere else other than where it all began. And I was looking for Geoff. I missed the old man. I really missed him. But it wasn’t Geoff I saw from a distance, sitting in the front row with his phone to ear and a look of sheer panic on his face. It was Thomas goddamn Radley. He was in the middle of two similarly suited men, a casually dressed man with a notebook and a guy next to him with a camera. They were covering Jesse’s match. News of The Gentleman had spread like wildfire; he had sixteen wins with no losses and everyone wanted the scoop on why he had clear talent and was wanted by every sports agent the length and breadth of the country, but had no interest in going pro.

  I continued my journey around the arena, keeping my eye on Thomas as he repeatedly tried to make a call. I reached the exit where the bouncers stood, waiting for their chance to kick the crap out of someone, and I recognised an old face. Derek, cheery Derek, was not cheery anymore. The job had obviously got to him. He looked scary as hell.

  “Look who it is!” I shouted over the cheers as I got closer, watching him turn expecting a fight. The grin he gave me almost split his face in two.

  “Cut Throat Curtis!” he roared, punching me in the arm. Thank god it wasn’t the ribs. “How’s it going?”

  “Good.” I returned his punch before I was swiftly suffocated as the arena became a vacuum and the door swung open.

  Derek and his companion turned as Skye propelled herself through the door and to the top of the stairs. I stepped back into the darkness and tried desperately to breathe again. I was a mere six feet away from her. I had to control the urge to put Derek and the other guy on the floor as they checked her out with a shared look of testosterone-filled agreement. I stood still as I watched her. She was frozen still. I wanted to charge in and take her to safety. I was drawn to her beyond my control, but I reminded myself she wasn’t here for me. She scanned the space and I watched the dread smother her when she spotted Thomas. The chemistry hit me and he looked up to find her. He felt her presence as strongly as I did, I saw it; I felt it. He smiled in relief until realisation hit him. He wanted Skye here as much as I did and I wanted her to be on the other side of the world.

  He stood, ignoring everything around him, his vision tunnelling on the angel between us. His beauty. My beauty. Our beauty. He made his way towards her, fellow spectators parting like the Red Sea to let him through without resistance. Skye stepped back, closer to me, further from him. She was afraid. Her body stiffened similarly to the last time she was here, and I knew her mind wasn’t her own. It was the grief that controlled her, like it did me. This place would forever be the home of our torment, our personal torture chamber, our physical hell; the place that would always remind us both of what happened
here.

  Thomas got closer; he was worried. His brow furrowed in confusion and he approached Skye with caution. He’d never seen this side of her, that much was clear.

  Skye stumbled back, colliding with the defensive chest of Derek. She turned and looked up at him. I waited for her to recognise him, but she didn’t. He didn’t bother to look at her or he would have seen the woman one step away from breaking point and not reached out a huge hand to shove her back. I took a step to make a move and protect her, but Thomas appeared at her side and moved her to stand behind him.

  “Get your hands off her.”

  I took a long step back, settling into a dark corner, completely hidden from the group in front of me.

  “No touching,” Derek mumbled.

  “Does she look dangerous to you?”

  Thomas took a step towards him, tipping his head back and squaring his shoulders in a silent challenge. Don’t do it.

  I knew what Derek could do; I’d seen him hospitalise countless men. Thomas wouldn’t stand a chance.

  “No touching.”

  I sensed the humour in his voice. He was enjoying this.

  “Thomas, please.” Skye’s voice broke as she pleaded with Thomas and took a hold of his arm. My chest tightened at the sound of her voice. I hadn’t heard it for years – since the night I sent her away. “Please, let’s just go.”

  “No exit during fights.”

  The guy next to Derek snorted in amusement. They wanted the fight. Thomas had to make the first move and they would unleash their power. My eyes slid to the ring and I prayed Jesse would get a knockout soon.

  It wasn’t going to happen.

  Thomas took another step forward. Derek’s eyes lit up, he knew it was coming. Skye’s bottom lip trembled and Thomas’ temper was about to erupt.

  I was running out of time.

  I couldn’t allow Skye’s boyfriend to be beaten to a pulp in the very place where her brother died.

  I took a deep breath, adopted the persona I hadn’t used since I actually had some authority in this place, and I stepped out of the shadows.

  “Open the doors.”

  I only had to say it once. Derek’s stance changed to one of obedience and his partner followed suit. He nodded and opened the door, sidestepping to let them through. Skye glanced quickly at me, to confirm what I knew she knew already, and then she bolted through the door, leaving Thomas to follow after her.

  “Thank you.” He smiled weakly at me and stepped through the door, hastily chasing after his woman.

  “What the fuck was that?” Derek spat. “You know the rules.”

  “That was Juggernaut’s sister.”

  “Shit.” his mouth fell open and his partner looked on in confusion, with no idea why he reacted the way Derek did. “She’s…you…why? Sorry, Cut Throat.”

  “Let me give you some advice,” I stepped up to him, but he didn’t stand in defence. He waited. “Next time a vulnerable, frightened woman wants out, forget the rules and let her go. Then go home and use that fist to pump your aggression into a sock. Pick a fight that’s worth it. Understood?”

  He nodded, but before he could speak, cheers boomed around the arena and I turned to see the fight had ended. Seventeen wins to The Gentleman. Good job, Dr Kennedy.

  Time to get the hell out of here.

  Twenty Seven

  No one would ever compare. No one would ever be her.

  I’d given up the search, the fight, the dream…but I’d take the blowjob.

  March 19th, 2011

  I stepped through the door of my apartment and stopped before I closed it. It was dark, quiet, empty. I tossed my keys onto the sideboard and switched the lamp on. The open space lit up immediately and I loosened my tie, unbuttoning my shirt as my eyes adjusted to the light. I took a deep, careful breath and tried to steady my thoughts. I’d dropped Jesse off at his posh hotel, refusing to talk about Ollie. I couldn’t understand how and why everything in my life was connected. I had no way out. I’d abolished the six degrees of separation theory; I never seemed to be more than a few steps away from Skye. Charlie knew Nina and Nina knew Skye. Jesse knew Thomas and Thomas knew – I scoffed pathetically – Skye. Then there was Geoff and Lois. Everyone I knew had some connection to the past I would never escape from. I wished I was only three degrees of separation away from Ollie and his story. The whole damn thing gave me a headache. I crouched down to dig Ollie's journal out of my briefcase and tossed it onto the sofa as I crossed the apartment to the kitchen. I threw a couple of paracetamol in my mouth, washed them down with a pint of water and stared out of the window at the city as I tried to calm my suddenly racing heart.

  “I wondered when you would be home.”

  I jumped, knocked the glass into the sink and watched it shatter. Turning around slowly, I saw Charlie. She looked stunning. Her blonde hair was bundle up into a pile on the top of her head, her makeup-free face slashed through her tough exterior; her eyes stood out like a tropical storm and the freckles scattered over her nose and cheeks made her look like a fallen angel. Her golden legs were naked and smooth, her toenails painted clear with a little white lines on each tip. She stood with one hand on her hip, the other toying with the hem of her t-shirt. My t-shirt. The old Geoff’s Gym t-shirt I used to wear before and after fights. She looked – fuckable – but that t-shirt sent my mind into a tailspin.

  “What are you doing here?” I croaked and cleared my throat.

  “Waiting for you.”

  “Where did you get that?” I pointed lazily to the t-shirt.

  She shrugged and looked down at the dark grey garment. I knew she was naked underneath.

  “It was in your drawer.”

  “Why were you going through my things?”

  Approaching her slowly, I moistened my dry lips, my body stirring to life.

  “I wanted something comfortable to wear.” She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. “It smells nice.”

  “It smells like the last woman I fucked in it.”

  “It does.”

  She wasn’t shocked by it, I saw by the flash of lust in her eyes as I continued to close the distance between us.

  “You’re not bothered by that?”

  I had to admit, I was impressed by her resilience. How many woman would wear a t-shirt that smelled like another woman? And sex. I knew she was playing a game and this was one I was happy to play. She shook her head and my eyes dropped to her throat as she swallowed. She turned so her back was against the counter, in time for me to cage her in. I dipped my head and pressed my nose to her neck, inhaling her heady scent.

  “Fuck me like you fucked her, Curtis.”

  “I can't.” I nibbled her neck, listening for her responsive moan.

  “Why not?” The fear of rejection laced her voice.

  “She’d never ask me to fuck her. She just made sure I had no choice but to take her.”

  “How did she do that?”

  Pushing me back, her eyes met mine and she searched for answers. I took her hand and brought it to the hardening mass between us. I gripped the countertop with both hands as she stroked slowly.

  “Her body was mine. She knew I couldn’t resist her. There was nowhere I’d rather have been than buried deep in her tight little pussy. She’d beg me for it harder and deeper, her nails marking me as hers, her teeth nipping my ear as she screamed my name.” Charlie’s breath hitched and she whimpered desperately. I moved my hands to her thighs and squeezed the supple flesh. She sighed. “She used to tease me, make my dick swell until I had to have her. She was greedy, too. She sucked me so fucking good; until I saw stars when she rammed me in so deep she couldn’t breathe.”

  “She did?” Her eyes stayed locked on mine and I saw the hurt in them. Hurt that fuelled her desire to compete.

  I nodded, offering no other response. I knew she wouldn’t need anything else. Now who’s playing the game? Her hands met my chest. She shoved me back to the opposite counter and her hands tugged my trousers
open.

  “Teach me,” she whispered, pulling my pants down and letting my cock spring free. “Teach me to suck you like she did.”

  “It can't be taught, baby.” One large hand cupped her shoulder and I pushed her to her knees. “You have to want it.”

  I bent over and kissed her, licking along the seam of her lips, pulling back and leaving her wanting more. Lost in desire and need, she groaned.

  “I want it.”

  Gripping my dick in one hand, I held the back of her head with the other and stroked the head along her lips. Her tongue sneaked out and caught me off guard. I shuddered and watched the clear liquid seep out and coat her mouth.

  “Close it,” I ordered, smearing the pre-cum around her mouth, marking her. “Now open, tongue out.”

  She looked up at me as she complied and I slid into her mouth. Her tongue pressed flat to my shaft; my stomach tightened and I held back a moan when she curled it around me.

  “Keep your mouth open.”

  I thrust my hips, watching my cock slide in and out. Charlie squirmed on her knees, her hands gripped my thighs and I pumped into her until the head nudged the back of her throat. Her mouth watered, coating my dick and easing my movements.

  “Just like that, baby,” I groaned, tightening my grip. “Relax your throat, swallow me down.”

  She wiggled, angling herself; she opened her throat, took me in and my body quivered with every inch she closed around.

  “That’s it, baby. Suck it.”

  I dropped my hands, giving her free rein and her greedy mouth consumed me. She slurped, she swallowed, she gagged. She set a rhythm that had my blood raging, my knees wobbling and my dick twitching against her tongue. I wanted to let go, to let her fuck me like she usually did, but I was a selfish prick. I got off on making her feel worthless.