Page 112 of Mistaken Prejudice

Something was off about him tonight. His words and voice were the same, but he had this sickening tension that danced behind his eyes. I always believed that everything you needed to know about a person was written in their eyes, and what was written in his was insanity.

The type of insanity that came out of pure desperation, and I knew that tonight, nothing would stop him. If there was something that held him back in the past, it was long gone. The man standing before me, threatening to hurt or even end my life, was untamable.

The same monster I feared would be unleashed was now out for blood.

And it was my blood it wanted. Wasn’t it?

“What did he see in you?” He spoke so quietly it was almost a whisper, and the pain in his question was barely there, but it was. “Why you, of all people? Why you and not me?”

Something inside of me almost made me feel pity for the guy. I assumed it was the part of him that reminded me of Diesel.

They were both so desperate for someone to save them from themselves.

And just like that, as if he sensed I saw something in his eyes he wasn’t willing to show, the shred of humanity that flickered was quickly replaced by depravity. The monster I was used to, came back.

A rolling, merciless laugh erupted from his throat, and he grabbed my head with his hands and pressed our foreheads together. My blood smeared on his skin as he continued to laugh for no reason.

“Am I right? What’s so different between us?” he screamed. “Tell me, Andrei, help me understand.”

He pushed back only to get enough distance and speed before using his forehead to head-butt me. The force of it knocked me off my feet, and my vision turned black. I blinked several times before the blurry image of him standing above me became clear.

He bent over and clenched his fists around my shirt before pulling my torso up.

“I’m going to hurt you to the point you beg me to kill you.” He smiled. “I’ll ruin that pretty face of yours until he can’t recognize it.” Spit splattered from his mouth as he spoke and landed on my face. “And when I’m done with you, I’ll move on to your friends. Make them hurt and suffer just like you made me. I’ll take them away from you the same way you took him away from me.”

What was wrong with this guy? Was he talking about Miles? I thought he said he won. They fucked. Didn’t they?

“You think you can just continue doing that to me? Hurt me, scare me?” His eyes were on me, but I wasn’t the one he was looking at. It was almost as if he saw through me, and the person he was talking to wasn’t here. Even for the situation we were in, it was insane.

“Why me? Of all people. Why me?” he whispered, his eyes wide and scared as his grip tightened around my shirt. “Tell me, why do you hate me so much?”

The sound of an engine emerged from somewhere far away and blended with his words. I swore it got louder and louder with each second that passed. I considered it was my brain hearing shit after getting slammed so many times, but then the doors to the gym were knocked over by a motorcycle. More likely, by the person who came in riding on it like a motherfucker.

Shay-Lee’s attention, like all the others’ in the room, was on Diesel, who peeled himself off the seat before he kicked the kickstand down and moved toward us.

“Came to get yourself killed?” Don asked as he and his brother started to approach Diesel, who continued to walk casually as if he had gone on a stroll in the park.

Not bothered by their threats, he bent down and picked what looked like a broomstick. He then tossed the wooden piece in the air before he grabbed it in his palm and snapped it in half over his knee a moment before the twins reached him. Now, with a stick in each hand, he continued to walk toward them, and when they charged at him at full speed, he made a move that seemed un-fucking-real. He evaded their attack as if he were a professional fighter, spun around, and then used the sticks in his hands to hit each of them in the face with such force that crashed them to the floor.

Once they were down, he used the made-up weapon once more to hit each one of them before moving to dodge Kamper’s strike. He almost danced around him before he hit Kamper’s stomach with one of the sticks, and once the guy bent down to grab his injured body, Diesel swung the other one and struck his head as if it was a baseball ball.

“Holy fuck, man,” I heard Ty saying as he let go of Levi and put his hands in front of him, trying to protect his pretty boy face. “Fuck, man. Chill out. We’re just messing with you.” He continued to beg as Diesel slowly stepped his way, but his pleading wasn’t heard, and Diesel didn’t let go of him until his face was in all colors of the fucking rainbow. My boy was a true artist when it came to colors.

Shay-Lee’s hands were no longer on me and he was standing with his back to me while staring at his gang splattered on the floor, beaten up.

Once Diesel turned our way, I was sure he’d beg for mercy, the same way Ty did right before he was beaten to a pulp, but instead, he started laughing.

His odd reaction caught Diesel off guard. I could see the confusion written on Diesel’s face a moment before the blank, emotionless expression returned to them.

“Fuck, man. Look how you beat them up.” He took a step back. “You’re a real animal. Aren’t you? Fucked up in the head.” He took another step back. “A real beast.”

He then stopped with his arms at his sides, and his legs positioned, ready for a chase.

“Come and get me, Guapo.” He beamed just as he took off and started running out of the gym with Diesel on his tracks.

I finally got up from the floor, quickly ran toward Jess and Levi, and crouched in front of them.

“You okay?” I asked them as I moved my good hand over their bodies, ensuring they were.