I'd never been to a concert but I'd always imagined what it would have been like. In a way I felt like it would be something very similar to this — standing there, watching someone you absolutely admire while they did something they were amazing at. The crowd roaring behind you, sending vibrations of excitement up your spine. It gave an unexplainable rush, something I needed more of in my life.

It was making me pat myself on the back for agreeing to come to The Pit tonight.

"You're next, eh?" Andrew informed loudly over the cheers. He was stood next to me, arms crossed and an amused smile on his boyish face. Even though Lincoln's first match ended well over fifteen minutes ago the blue of his eyes never left the ring.

"Funny." I responded in a dry tone, having to shout over the crowd.

"Why not? I'm down for some girl on girl action. Imagine how much money we could make off that." Whatever Andrew was cooking up in his head made his eyes shine in interest. "Lincoln loves girl on girl."

Ignoring his last comment I rose my brow. "What do you mean we? Don't act like we're business partners or something, this is your perverted idea."

"Exactly, my genius idea." Andrew reminded while gesturing to his broad chest. "I say a eighty-twenty split is fair. Eighty for me, twenty for you."

"Yeah..." Andrew grinned at the stare I was sending him. "No thanks."

"You're no fun." He stated with a small pout.

"Sorry for the disappointment." Getting tired of screaming my responses I ended the conversation there and guided my attention back to the ring.

Being that Amelia was given the rest of the week off I decided to let her and Sadie have some mother-daughter bonding time. It was something I knew I valued as a child, and Sadie didn't get quite enough of it. I thought I was going to be spending the night off with the company of Teen Wolf reruns, that is until Andrew caught whiff of me being unnecessarily afraid of thunder storms. When his challenging comments came out about my lack of bravery somehow a visit to The Pit was suggested.

Now here I was, bathing in the stench of sweat, smoke and alcohol.

As rumour had it Lincoln was partaking in a rather huge fight tonight. It was between himself and some long time rival. There was a lot riding on this match and, I was sure, a lot to gain as well. The thought of Lincoln having to go up a worthy opponent was nauseating. Watching strangers beat each other to a pulp was hard enough to stomach.

"How much longer until Lincoln's turn?" I leaned into Andrew just after one of the fighters in the ring tumbled to the arena floor.

"I wish I knew myself. I have an English project due tomorrow that I haven't even read over yet. Any chance I could get yours?"

"Hmmm..." Pretending as if though I was humouring the thought I inspected the pipe covered ceiling, my lip protruding faintly. "Not even the slightest."

"Wow, you'll do Pierce's homework but not mine?"

"I don't do his homework." I argued, turning my attention back to the match before me.

Not taking my reverted attention as a conversation ender Andrew leaned in closer. "Lincoln paying you well, eh?"

Andrew's brows wiggled like dancing caterpillars on his forehead hinting that the meaning hidden in his words were far from innocent. He was sounding too much like Ella for my liking. I was seconds away from starting my own underground fight club when an exceptionally loud roaring sounded, signalling the end of the fight. I turned my scowl away from Andrew to witness who the victor was. At least this way I could stop myself from slapping the smug smirk off his face.

The not-so-official referee held up a bald man's fists as he roared along with the crowd. His vibes were dripping of self-righteousness and a suffocating amount of vanity. The male ego was something I'd never understand.

Getting easily bored with the self-adoring gorilla I converted my attention elsewhere. The warehouse basement was seemingly busier tonight. Maybe it was due to the advancing weekend, maybe it was due to the specific fighters here tonight. I had no idea. I was still a complete novice when it came to understanding underground street fighting. Andrew on the other hand was a veteran apparently and felt the need to remind me of that every few minutes.

Silva and his crew were in attendance as usual. Andrew and Lincoln were sure to point them out as soon as we arrived. The group took up the space to my right, Silva being sure to stand front and centre. His build appeared larger due to his folded arms across his chest. His attention fiercely zoned in on the ring. From what Andrew had told me it was a friend of Silva that was battling it out with Lincoln tonight, an old friend that graduated from our high school a few years back.

Unconsciously my vision swept over the hordes of unfamiliar faces. Like the previous night waitresses moved about with their platers, men coming around to take bets. It was surprisingly organized madness. Eventually my eyes scanned over to the heavily occupied bar in the back corner. I couldn't make all of it out with the amount of people in my way but my vision skimmed over the area nonetheless. Men and women alike surrounded the counter tops, demanding attention, some already baring drinks in their hands.

A sudden chill shot down my spine, my heart fluttering uncomfortably. One specific man stood out among the rest. My eyes were drawn to him like a moth to a flame, my breath caught in the back of my throat. I wanted to reach out towards Andrew, take hold of his attention, but my body was frozen in shock. I had hoped and dreamed with all my might that that one night was the last I'd ever see of him — that one night was surely enough — but here he was seated at the bar, a drink in his hand.

Images of his bloodied teeth and foul breath had me feeling as if though I was going to puke.

Why the hell was Lincoln's father here?

I turned around, hoping my staring hadn't caught his attention.

I didn't know what to say or do. There wasn't much I could do. Andrew didn't know about Lincoln's father, telling him would do no good in getting rid of the sick man behind me. The question was, should I mention it to Lincoln?

My mind bubbled away, trying to come up with the answer to my inner turmoil. Was it a coincidence? This was a giant playground for the middle aged man. There was alcohol, and a welcomed option to bet away your money.

I'm sure the scandalously clad women were a bonus as well.

"You all good?" Andrew's voice snapped me out of my notions, a concerned look dotted his face. He peeked back to where I had been staring before landing his eyes back on me. "We could head outside soon if you're starting to get uncomfortable?"

"What?" I questioned before shaking my head to disperse the thoughts. "Oh, no. It's okay. I'm fine."

"Good." Andrew shouted, a playful grin returning. "Thought you were about to chicken out."

A broad smile appeared, forcing my cheeks further apart. "Not likely."

With my answer Andrew focused his attention back to the guy he had started conversing with. The thought of what to do about Lincoln's father tried wiggling itself back into the forefront of my mind but I pushed it aside. Nothing needed to be done. There was nothing the older man could do here besides gamble his life away.

But with an unthawing interest I mustered the courage to peak back around. With relief, or an unsettling concern, I realized he was no longer there.

Was I hallucinating?

Activity in the arena started back up again, dragging my attention from the bar. The referee had re-submerged from outside of the caged inclosure. Shouts were being made concerning the next round and last minute bets.

Within moments the two opponents entered through the cage door, one of them being Lincoln.

Sweat from his last round was slick in his hair, making it appear like he'd just stepped out of the shower minutes prior, his skin still glistening in the harsh light. I followed his actions as he discarded his damp towel into his corner. In the ring Lincoln was focused, his attention too firmly set on his rival. His eyes didn't leave the man with the dirty blonde hair.

His opponent, however, was soaking up the attention. Beating his chest like some uncaged animal he made his way across his side of the ring. Gripping onto the cage he lower himself as Silva stepped forward. The two exchanged words, almost seeming like a last minute pep-talk. A sly smirk made its way onto Silva's lips when his friend began to rise to his full length.

My gazed burned holes into Silva's angular face and I sort of wished he would combust into flames. His smug expression needed to be slapped off a hundred times more than Andrew's ever did.

A ringing had called my attention back to what was happening in front of me. I was guessing I had missed the mandatory fist pounding because both men were ready to go.

Lincoln had backed up a few steps, fists raised, as he claimed his space. His opponent was hopping around, jumping like a kangaroo from left to right. The blonde was vibrating with energy from not having fought yet. Being spurred on by Silva and his pals probably helped.

Without warning the two clashed, the broad rival coming at Lincoln with full speed. Lincoln seemed ready for the invasion, he neatly stepped out of the way, ducking when fists started flying. The force behind the blonde's clenched hands were nerve-wracking — they seemed to pack equal force to that of a Mac truck.

I raised my finger nails to my lips, getting tense when Lincoln was doing nothing but dodging and ducking.

"Don't look so nervous."

Andrew's attention was still on the ring when I peeked up at him, making me believe I was hearing things. I was about to turn away when his jaw unlatched and more words came out. "He knows what he's doing."

With that tiny bit of encouragement I focused back on the fight. The cheering hadn't ceased even though no blows were being made. Both names were being called out; Lincoln being one, Kane being the other.

The time lapse on the far opposite wall was creeping closer to the two minute mark and there was still no contact between the two. Kane inched after Lincoln with every movement, blow after blow being fired. The two danced in a circle within the perimeter of the ring. The frustration on Kane's face showing with every failed attempted at knocking Lincoln's lights out.

Silva rammed into the cage from the sidelines. He shouted at the two as they circled past once more. His face was red, veins protruding from his neck as he yelled.

With all the commotion Lincoln remained focus. With each punch Kane threw he would step away, moving backwards around the ring. The anxiety was building up and I checked back on Andrew to read his expression. There was no doubt, no confusion, just serene concentration as he silently supported his friend.

And where was my faith? Hiding somewhere in a closet, comforting itself with cheesecake.

Feeling more determined I switched my gaze back to the match. Lincoln had been doing this for long enough. I needed to believe he wasn't going to let his ass get handed to him. There was too much at stake for him to lose. He had something to fight for.

A little more evading on Lincoln's part and the first blow was made.

While Kane was still stuck in the motion of step-strike-recover Lincoln made his move. Kane had just finished attempting to land a blow when Lincoln spun around. Using the momentum he shot out his leg, directing the kick into his opponent's abdomen. The impact was enough to force Kane back into the opposite caged wall, almost collapsing to his knees in the process. The uproar around me was deafening, the longly awaited event finally unfolding. Kane, using his hands, clawed himself back up the gate before pushing himself off.

The speed that was displayed earlier was slowly dying down as Kane hobbled his way back to Lincoln bringing me to wonder how much damage that knock to his chest caused. Charging once more Kane laced out a whole new array of punches. He bombarded Lincoln, pushing him back. Prolonging the fight Lincoln kept up his defence only to send another kick to Kane's bare chest.

Another minute in and Kane was hardly able to stand on his own. Lincoln had gotten a couple of unlucky blows to the head but they were surely not as powerful as they would have been at the beginning of the round. The two were at it again, waltzing around the ring. Kane puffed, flinching every so often. He would swing less frequently and when he did they were loose and sloppy. To my astonishment Lincoln hardly looked effected by the whole ordeal. His gaze was still intense, penetrating — I would have hated to be on the other end of it.

Without so much of a warning Lincoln spun around again, his foot reaching higher than the last two. The vicious strike to Kane's temple had him tumbling to the padded flooring beneath him.

And that was all it took.

"Three strikes and you're out, Motherfucker!" Andrew shouted, joining in with the cheering.

Kane didn't even flinch as the ref checked him over.

With all the screaming and clamour I wondered how no one could possibly hear us from this basement. My throat felt raw from all the yelling, my whole body feeling jittery from the experience. Lincoln's life was nowhere near orthodox, but it was a hell of a lot more exciting than mine.

The hollering carried on well after Lincoln strolled out of the arena. The praise this crowd was giving him made my heart swell. I don't think Lincoln's ever felt more wanted in his life than when he was down here.

"Cal, hey," Andrew shouted, "let's go meet him near that exit over there." His long finger was extended toward a bright red 'exit' sign. With a nod of my head Andrew turned to lead me out, a hand on my arm. Together we fought through the hordes of people. They opened up for Andrew easily. I, on the other hand, felt like a dwarf in the midst of a rave.

"Does he know to meet us here?" I questioned, not having to yell so loudly as we approached the concrete wall.

"Meets me here every time." Andrew confirmed, hands now in his pockets.

As we trudged closer Andrew sprung forward. "Hey, Felix! How you doin'?"

Trying not to crack a smile the bald man standing guard at the door nodded in acknowledgement. "Andrew."

"Aw, come on buddy. It's Drew to you." Andrew mused, reaching out and clapping the beefy giant across the arm. If I thought Lincoln was big, Felix was jumbo sized.

"Where the hell's Lincoln so you can get your ugly mug out of my face, eh?" Felix laughed at his own attempt at humour, messing about with Andrew's already unruly locks.

A faux gasp left Andrew's lips, a hand rising to his chest. "That hurt FeFe. That really stung."

"Ohhh, get outta here." Felix's laugh boomed over the hype of the crowd around the ring.

Leaving the two men to their antics I scanned anxiously for Lincoln. I hadn't known I was bouncing on the balls of my feet until a firm hand landed on my shoulder.

"Cut it out, will you? You're gonna embarrass me in front of FeFe." Andrew scolded playfully, thumb jetting back to his security friend.

"Too late for that. You embarrass yourself plenty."

To my amusement the two started an entertaining wrestling match of their own. Andrew whirled his arms around like sideways helicopters in attempt to grapple the older man. Felix on the other hand barely had to exert much effort, holding Andrew back with the palm of his hand. I smiled fondly at the two. They seemly had a brotherly sort of relationship. Something Lincoln had with Sadie. Something I wished I had myself.

I was too caught up in watching Andrew get his ass handed to him to notice Lincoln approaching.

"When are you going to give it up Drew?"

I turned to the sound of his voice, spontaneously throwing my arms around his tacky torso. "You kicked ass!" Not daring to look up at his face I pressed my cheek into his chest, indulging in the vibrations of his laughter.

"That's potty language California. Sadie would be disappointed." Lincoln mused, squeezing me back.

"You seem to have found yourself a cheerleader Pierce." Felix commented, making me want to hide my face even more.

"I'm the one and only cheerleader! Me!" Andrew insisted, dragging me off of Lincoln only to take my position. Lincoln seemed severely uncomfortable in the way Andrew was clutching him, begging me with his eyes to unlatch the two of them.

"That was quite a match Pierce. Felt like you were toying with the fool the whole time." Felix continued the conversation as Lincoln attempted to scrape off his jester of a best friend.

"Yeah, well, this one was sort of personal."

Felix asked knowingly, "You sure it didn't have to do with the handsome bonus you got for delaying the knockout?"

"That was just the icing on the cake." Lincoln let out a chuckle, both him and Felix clapping hands in respect.

Lincoln opened his mouth, seemingly about to say his goodbyes when he was shoved into Felix's stone hard chest.

"Cheap motherfucker! You were running away the whole fucking time!" Silva raged causing me to unwillingly take a step back.

Andrew wedged himself between the two. "Are we going over this again Silva? If you're gonna cry about losing money don't bet."

Without warning Silva's fist flung out, catching Andrew across his cheek.

Lincoln lunged for Silva, Felix barely holding him back by his arm. It was absolute chaos, erupting in just a matter of seconds. What was going on before me was a lot more personal, and substantially more intense. Any minute now and I was sure the crowd was going to turn from the ring and watch us instead.

Before any of that could happen Felix managed to intervene, his larger build obstructing the brawl that was sure to follow.

"Go!" Felix bellowed to the three of us. With a bit of hesitation, and persuasion from Andrew, Lincoln pivoted towards the exit. Still spoked from Silva's rising temper I followed the pair out, hot on their heels but not without peering back at the red faced teenager.

His eyes bore into mine, burning me with what I found there. Hate and loathing lingered, dancing in the rage he displayed. And it was directed towards me. I had never done anything to Dominic Silva, but my association had apparently caused me an enemy.

To solidify my theory Silva spit, projecting it specifically in my very direction. The saliva sprayed in my face. Out of habit I wiped the disgustingly warm liquid off with the sleeve of my sweater. The disturbance on my face seemingly pleased the man being held back in front of me.

And now I was pissed off.

Throughout my time at the daycare I always advised the kids to walk away. They were never to retaliate, it only ever made the situation worse. And I honestly believed what I said. Going against my morals I reached out towards the nearest waitress, plucking a tall glass off the silver tray. The drink was cold against my fingers tips, the condensation licking my skin.