CHAPTER THREE: LEO

Shane was dozing off in the back seat; I couldn't blame him; we'd been through a lot in the last few years. Our parents passed away four years ago. I'll never forget that evening. Even now, I have nightmares about the night I almost lost Shane, the person I loved the most in this world.

That unfortunate night was a Saturday, so I went to the Void, an underground fighting arena, to get cash for groceries. I was about to enter the ring when Ripper, a friend of mine, ran in and told me that I had received a call from the hospital informing me that my family had been involved in a car accident.

I got out of there as quickly as I could after Ripper offered to cover my match for me, so I got into my truck and drove as fast as I could to the hospital mentioned on the phone.

When I arrived at the hospital, I introduced myself to the nurse behind the waiting room counter, who gave me a pitying look before directing me to the doctor in charge.

"Hello, my name is Dr Patel, and I'm sorry but we were unable to save your parents." The doctor said this while looking at me with the same pitying look the nurse at the reception had given me.

"What about my little brother, he was also in the car; please tell me he is okay," I said, trying to keep my emotions in check.

"I believe the worst is over. He suffered some injuries, but he is now stable. However, we must wait for him to wake up before we can be sure he is fine "Before directing me to Shane's room, the doctor said in a professional but reassuring tone.

As I followed him, I felt several emotions: anger, fear, and relief - relief that my brother was at least safe. When we arrived at the room, my heart clenched tight in my chest as my gaze fell on Shane, who was lying on the bed with various machines attached to his body. He appeared frail, battered, and bruised.

The doctor gave me a friendly pat on the back before leaving me alone in the room. When I heard the door close behind him, my shoulders drooped and the emotions overwhelmed me. My parents were no longer present. The thought echoed in my head, and I raised my face upwards, fighting the urge to cry not from grief, but from the pain Shane must be feeling because my parents were douchebags who didn't care about us, and now that they were gone, I felt nothing but the little man actually loved them.

I made it a point to visit Shane every day while he was in a coma. The second week after the unfortunate accident, I went to see him as usual and stayed by his bedside until late, even though he couldn't hear me.

As it got late, I stood up to leave and noticed him slowly opening his eyelids. I was overjoyed and wanted to scream. I dashed to the side of the bed and inquired eagerly if he was okay.

When I saw he couldn't respond, I frowned. I called the nurse and told her what was going on, and she immediately informed the doctor. Before the doctor could tell us what was wrong, they ran some tests.

"I'm sorry to inform you, Mr. Smith, that your brother's Larynx was damaged during the incident and he will not be able to speak again," the doctor said.

"What?! So you're saying my brother will be unable to speak for the rest of his life because my father decided to drink and drive? He's no longer alive, but he's still ruining his life! For Heaven's sake "I said this in an angry and frustrated tone, and I was immediately embarrassed by my outburst. I apologized and faced the doctor because I couldn't bear to look at Shane's expression.

The doctor gave me a pitying look, but Shane began to wheeze loudly, drawing our attention; he was pointing to his throat, indicating that he was having difficulty breathing; the doctor immediately acted, and Shane was wheeled out of the room.

I followed as closely as I could and came to a halt when they entered the operating room. A short time later, the doctor came out to tell me that they would have to operate on Shane. I paced back and forth in the empty hallway for nearly four hours afterwards.

Thankfully, the doctor told me the surgery went well,and after a few more weeks and test in the hospital the doctor said it was okay to take him home.

Shane and I took some time to adjust to our new lives, but we eventually got the hang of it. The first thing we did was learn sign language so that we could communicate more effectively with one another.

When he was receiving medical care after the surgery for his difficulty in breathing. I had to tell him he wouldn't be able to speak for the rest of his life.

I expected him to cry and throw a tantrum, but he handled it better than I expected. He acted bravely, and I was extremely proud of him, but it was clear in his eyes that he was hurting but putting up a brave front for my sake.

That bothered me; he didn't have to act tough; he was just a kid, and I wanted him to be one. Shane and basketball were the only reasons I made it through those years living with my parents. If I had just taken better care of him, none of this would have happened, but what's done is done, and I will do everything in my power to keep him safe in the future.

After everything had calmed down, we buried our parents. Child services came to take Shane away from me right after the burial, the hospital must have called them, I was fifteen at the time.

Even though it took a year and a half, I never stopped fighting for custody and was finally able to get him back because George, one of my father's closest friends, took us in after I promised him that I would take care of Shane and he wouldn't have to spend a dime on us. He was a strict man, but it was better than living on the street.

Unfortunately, a year after we moved in with him, he died of cancer, leaving Shane and me to fend for ourselves. After he died, I had to work double shifts and fight in the Void to provide for the two of us so that child services wouldn't come and take Shane away again.

Uncle George left us his house so we wouldn't have to live on the streets, which I appreciated. Fighting at the Void, on the other hand, became more dangerous with each passing day because Mikey, our boss, made it easier for people to break the rules every time fighters entered the ring. Every time I fought, I ended up with broken bones or bruises. It got to the point where I couldn't hide Shane's injuries any longer.

He would beg me every night to stop going after seeing the injuries one day while I was dressing up, but I wouldn't listen - not because I didn't want to listen, but because I couldn't afford to stop fighting if I wanted to keep us fed. So I fought until one fateful night. Because my previous injuries from my previous fight hadn't fully healed, I couldn't fight that night, so Mikey suggested that Ripper take my place.

Ripper agreed, thinking it was just like any other fight, but Mikey deliberately didn't tell us that there were no rules in this fight, and that his opponent was carrying a hidden weapon. By the time I realized it, it was too late, and when I tried to stop the match, Mikey refused, leaving Ripper with no choice but to fight his armed opponent.

Ripper's opponent was the first to attack, swinging a knife at him. Ripper tried his best to defend himself, but the other fighter didn't let him breathe or attack. His opponent kept slashing at him, cutting him in different places until he stabbed Ripper in the ribcage. I could still hear him drop on the ring floor with a deafening thud. I lost it when I saw him lying motionless on the floor. I ran into the ring to check on Ripper, ignoring Mikey's calls, but it was too late.

That night, Ripper choked on his own blood and died in my arms, and there was nothing I could have done to prevent his death. And with Mikey's casual demeanor, it was clear Ripper's life meant nothing to him; Ripper was just another pawn he could replace; it was just business as usual, as he always said.

It took all of my self control not to beat the crap out of Ripper's opponent after Mikey had paid him as he walked by Ripper's body without so much as batting an eyelid.

Mikey then gave his goons the order to remove Ripper's body from the ring because they had another match. I didn't allow them to touch him because none of them had a right to even look at him, let alone carry his dead body.

It was a rude awakening for me to realize that I needed to leave this life before I also got killed as I carried his dead body from the ring to the changing room we shared.

Since Shane and I were the closest thing Ripper had to a family, we were in charge of making arrangements for his funeral because all family members were either dead or in jail.

So I left the Void because I couldn't bear the thought of Shane losing me as well. I knew there would be repercussions, but it was the best decision I'd ever made in my seventeen years of life. Mikey would not let us live here in peace, so I decided to relocate as far away from here as possible, hoping that would be enough to keep us safe from Mikey's wrath.