5. Carter

The first time I saw Aaron, I thought he was one of the stupid stalkers who kept following me and had approached me when he saw me stranded, I was about to punch him until he started talking about sliders and showed a legitimate interest in helping me.

When I found out that Aaron was just looking for money and showed his true personality, a greedy and opportunistic personality, I went crazy, it was as if I had finally met a sincere person and the closer I got to him, the more he got me excited, what happened in the slider was not an accident, it was the first time I got anxious when I wanted to touch someone.

It was crazy when he entered the classroom and decided to sit next to Wallace, also when he defended him, but I accepted his orders, I wanted to show him that I had become his personal slave and would always be there to fulfill his desires.

I climbed into my newly repaired slider and thanked the heavens, it had been the most perfect day of my life, they had met the perfect guy, I felt butterflies in my stomach, just remembering him, it just so happened that we were in the same academy and I knew he would keep looking for me until I paid him back. It was like a destined love, a sign from the universe telling me that Aaron was the person who had been created for me.

The sensation of riding the slider was incredible, there was no trace of noise that would signal that the engine was about to explode, leaving me to accelerate the slider to a level where I could exceed the speed limit. It was like flying in paradise.

I parked the slider on the roof of my apartment and started down the stairs, I had to prepare myself for what the night had in store for me.

I made myself something quick to eat, a pasta with a kilo of grilled steak with a tomato juice and several cooked vegetables. I thought about what Aaron might like, he seemed like a thin boy, maybe I would have to make an effort to charm him with my food, he would have to realize that fate had brought us together.

I opened Aaron's ID and as I looked at his face, I could imagine what it would be like to touch his skin. What it would be like to kiss him and have him take me.

Then I did dirty things thinking about him, from when I was sitting on the couch, to when I took a bath to cleanse my impurities.

I took a pair of shorts from my closet, some fighting gloves and a razor, it was almost time to report to work.

My job consisted of only one thing, apparently I was good at fighting and I loved to watch the blood start to run through the skin of a deep wound. That's why I had joined an underground club that was in charge of organizing fights, my job was to survive that night, get paid and come back the next day.

I was regarded as the butcher of the clouds, and although I had never killed anyone, my reputation was due to the fact that I liked to bleed my opponent on a non-vital part of his body and drink some of his blood.

I had gained stalkers because of my muscular body and violent attitude. Sometimes they would come to my dressing room, naked, looking for more than just a greeting, sometimes I would get carried away with pleasure, maybe most of them, discharging the adrenaline of fighting to the death was good for your health.

...

I parked on the roof of the club and started down the stairs. I felt the music begin to thunder in my ears as the voices of patrons calling for blood echoed through the place.

The club was composed of several tables around a small pentagon-shaped arena surrounded by a net that had spikes in the shape of a thorn. Although alcohol and drugs were a form of income. The real money was in gambling and fighting.

I didn't quite know how my manager made money when I entered the ring, I never cared that he would make sure to give me a proper salary to get me through the week, I had watched several of my competitors get carried away with the money until they lost themselves in sex, alcohol and drugs to end up lying on the streets. So I couldn't end up being greedy, but that day, I had to ask for something more.

I put on my hood and walked to the back of the venue. I entered a huge red-painted hallway and advanced to my dressing room.

As I entered, there was my manager sitting in one of the chairs, he was drinking with several people I didn't know. He seemed to be enjoying the night, he always did, enjoying the money he made from betting on me and setting up my fights.

"Orland, I need to talk to you alone."

Orland scoffed with his friends, but when I reached over to his shoulder and squeezed it hard, I felt the fear in his friends' eyes and they wordlessly started to leave my dressing room.

"shit Carter, can you let go of me" Orland said spitting out the last gulp of wine.

I let go and sat down in front of him.

Orland was a man in his forties, although he looked about fifty. He had an elongated face and huge teeth that made him look like a rat. Half of his hair was long and reached below his shoulders and the other half of his hair was covered. He wore extravagant, top-brand clothing. He was currently wearing a yellow shirt unbuttoned down to his chest, white pants and a brown faux fur coat.

"I need more money tonight," I blurted out bluntly.

"I've given you what you need this week, why did you want more? "Orland asked, reluctant to cough up any money.

"I've fallen in love, I need more money".

"shit Carter, don't tell me you've fallen in love with one of your whores, let me tell you the truth, you're just being used.

"I'll do you a favor, I won't give you any more money, I'll give you something new tonight so you can forget about that bitch".

"I'm not kidding, I need more money" I repeated" and I want you to never disrespect her again and don't call her a whore, if you do you will be the next one I bleed".

"What the fuck are you talking about?" asked Orland, but seeing my face full of fury, he understood that I was serious.

"Tell me what he looks like?" he finally asked.

"he's a fellow from the academy" I said feeling a change in my voice" with amazing skills, slider lover, maybe I can buy him one .... ".

"wait Carter, how do you know he's not using you?" asked Orland and I glared at him, " come on Carter, you just sound like a jerk".

"if you don't want to give me more money that's fine, I'll get another manager" I tried to conclude and stood up.

"come on Carter, you don't have to get like that, I'm just making sure you met the guy of your dreams. We'll do this, I'll give you some money to invite your guy to a meal so you can get to know each other better, after you make sure he's not using you, we can agree on raising your allowance, do you agree?".

"So we will" I said, it seemed like the fair deal.

I smirked at the thought of where I would take him for lunch and formalized the deal with Orland after a handshake.

Orland explained to me who I would be fighting that night, he was a muscular man in his thirties who had come from another neighborhood to brand himself as the number one guy in the club.

I entered the ring within minutes. I heard the audience shout my name creating a wild environment to start the fight. I looked at my opponent's face. His eyes showed pride and looked me up and down. After a short while a smile came across his face and he seemed to mock me, boy was he going to enjoy that night.

The fight started, the man approached and I started to take several of his punches, some I blocked, some I took. Sometimes I hit him, sometimes I let him dodge my blows. I had to create a show and make the fight long so that more money would be collected in the betting.

"the famous Carter, I heard you were someone intimidating, but you just look like a dumb kid who can barely form a fist" said the man.

I smirked, lowered my hands showing an opening. The man wanted to punch me in the chin, I moved fast and punched him in the stomach with all my strength. The man held his stomach and spat blood. I took the opportunity to hit him in the cheek until he fell to the ground.

I approached him in his moment of weakness, bent down and began to hit him in the face until his face was deformed. When had he become unconscious? I didn't notice, I spat on his face marking my victory.