Jesse ran his fingers through his hair as he sat on the curb of the smoggy suburb, looking left and right. He laid on his back and rubbed his black eye, the whole left side of his face was puffy.

The fights from the night before still resonated through his head, he smiled thinking about the good, and tried his hardest to forget the bad. A car drove by and honked a horn, startling him. A cigarette butt was flicked out the car window, Jesse watched it careen down to earth leaving a thin trail of smoke like a reminder of where it had been.

It's smoke swam up into the air and into Jesse's thoughts. Gray smoke spiraled in his mind and when it blew away he was sitting on green grass on a sunny day, with a familiar girl sleeping next to him. She was smiling and making small noises. Jesse smiled and wiped the hair from her face. He stood up and she opened her eyes. He helped her up and went in for the kiss, not closing his eyes, instead locking them in her deep brown ones.

The memory was gone like smoke in the wind as the cigarette hit Jesse on the lower stomach, on the inch of skin between his boxers and shirt. He swung his hand to knock it away, but stopped to watch it burn, turning his pale skin red. The more it seared, the more he thought about the girl and relayed every memory he had of her in his head. Trying his best to push all his feelings for the girl out through the newly forming hole in his stomach.

When he couldn't take either the thought of her or the pain in his flesh, he stood up, the cigarette fell to the cement in an explosion of embers. He whispered her name, "Helena," so quiet he could barely hear himself.

Clutching his abdomen, Jesse walked away. Whenever he thought about her, he pressed hard on the burn, like his physical pain could be an escape for the emotions flowing through him.

Intolerable disappointment was running through his head, extending to every appendage of his body, all the way to his fingers. It felt like tiny, threatening shocks creeping within his body. Explosions of anger were going off inside of him, and he started to head in the direction of the only place he could find refuge from his feelings.

Even though he had fought the night before, and his skin was still sore from the kicks and fists, and his lower regions still a little shook up from the new kid that must not have understood the rule about no low blows, Jesse started off toward the fighting cellar.

Jesse worked his way down the damp, foggy street. Walking down a dark alley, through the cellar doors painted with chipped red paint, he stepped down the squeaking stairs into a dark abyss of a room. Jesse walked to what he judged was the center and sat down, letting his eyes adjust to the light.

Chapter---

Other people were all around him, a few whispered to each other, but Jesse sat alone. He came to fight, not to make friends. Anticipation was bouncing from person to person, he had trouble suppressing his own feelings of regret for his self destructive tendencies and relief for the shower of fists waiting to rain down on him in a few moments.

Jesse took this time to go over the rules of a fight. One: Tap the person you want to fight, if there's an odd number of people, the lone person has to watch over the fights and see to it everything goes alright. Two: You fight to fight, not fight to win, everyone had their own reason to come here. It isn't about men hyped up on testosterone trying to prove their dominance. Three: Tap the person twice anywhere on the body to signal you've had enough, if he doesn't notice yell out the initials "KJ" to gather the people done fighting to help pull your "partner" off of you. Four: No low blows. Five: No bragging. Bragging can spoil anything good.

He know it couldn't be too long, people were getting restless and starting to rise from their sitting positions. Like stacked dominoes in reverse they all stood up one by one. Some one flicked on a few of the lights, not too many, but just enough to see something coming at you, but not enough to get a look at the person who was going tap you on the shoulder. That was the unwritten law, it can't be too bright, or else the fight might become about your hate for the other person because he appeared more superior to you, the whole purpose of this was to fight with yourself, not fight with someone you despised for personal reasons.

Someone tapped his shoulder, Jesse said a little prayer. Even though he was convinced God had turned his back on him long ago when He took his sister, Jesse still did this before every fight. God was to him like a stuffed animal is to kids, a comfort object only used only when you're scared or lonely.

Jesse turned around and saw the outline of a person directly behind him. Tall and thin, Jesse could tell that this person was trying his hardest to look intimidating. This person smelled like the homeless people on the streets who are too lazy to even beg for money anymore.

Jesse shook his shoulders and and relaxed his body, got into a stance, ready for something to come at him, he kept his eyes focused on his partner's chest.

Nothing happened, the man just stood there. Jesse tried his hardest to stay focussed, the sound of flesh hitting flesh, the grunts of pain and whimper of defeat were all around him. Jesse stared at the person's chest. And stared, and stared, and stared.

Soon all sounds had died down and Jesse knew that all eyes where on him and the man who stood as still as a stick in the ground before him. Whispers were flying back and forth from his unwanted audience.

Jesse could feel his hate for this person rising in himself. Now everyone was watching, standing, waiting to see who would make the first move. He couldn't stand it anymore and the faceless man turned into his math teacher telling him he was a lazy failure, Jesse swung and hit him in the eye.

The man turned into his father, yelling at him, calling him useless and saying that he didn't care what happened to him. Jesse swung and hit him in the throat. The man turned into his brother, his backstabbing friends, the people who yelled at him from cars, the lady he smiled at once when he was young who scowled back.

Each one got their turn to be hit. The man was on the floor now with Jesse on top of him, still punching everyone who ever made him hate life. His mother, his teachers, anyone who ever looked down on him.

Blood sprayed with each hit, Jesse's fists were sore, but his body kept going. If this person was making any noises, Jesse couldn't hear them, he didn't want to hear them. All he wanted was this person gone, and he wanted to be the reason why. Like somehow this was all his fault, like Jesse's life was all because of this person, this person with his hands in front of his face and body in a desperate attempt to stop the pain. This person who was being pounded against the the concrete floor.

The man turned into Jesse, and the real Jesse reached out and put his hand on his mirrored self's throat, squeezing. He watched the life leaving his own eyes, and happiness and remorse flooded though him and down his hand, relaxing his grip.

Then the artificial him turned into the Helena, and Jesse let go. He stood up and backed off. No one was quiet anymore, everyone was talking, loudly, some one rushed up to the bleeding mass on the floor and checked for a pulse and yelled something.

Jesse held his head and watched people running out of the basement. A few remained kneeling over the body, still faintly breathing and making noises. One of them came up to Jesse and started talking. Jesse stared at his mouth, and watched it move. Some one must have turned on the lights because Jesse could distinctly see that the person talking to him was one of his old best friends, John. John had played a crucial role in the downfall of Jesse's life and his face had been on the person who was now lying on the ground.

Reality was sinking in and the words came into focus like a radio being tuned.

"...going to leave, the police are going to be here soon with an ambulance. You need to stay, tell the usual story. We can't keep this thing going. Go look at what you did," John said with clear disappointment and maybe a little fear in his voice and walked away.

Jesse got defensive, "no one owns this place, there is no leader of us. As long as there are people like us we have to keep this going."

John put his hand on Jesse's shoulder and said softly, "you're not like us, Jess."

Jesse watched every one leave, and then walked up to the body, the face was full of blood and starting to swell. Jesse squinted and recognized the face. It was the only person he still called a friend. The person he had tried time and time again to convince to come to this very place. There on the floor lay Adam. Jesse went down on his knees and looked into Adam's eyes. Those green eyes brought back the memory of the night before, when Adam had told Jesse about how his girlfriend was cheating on him and how his dad was drinking again and how he wanted it all to end. About how his life was meaningless now and he had no reason to be here.

Adam had come to this fight as a last resort to find a reason to stay, and when he saw Jesse, he tapped him on the shoulder, he didn't know what he was doing, he was just watching everyone what everyone else and copying them. Adam hadn't ever been told the rules, he didn't know how to tap out or call for help.

Adam had just stood there because Jesse had told him one too many times how great it felt to be on the losing side sometimes, and Adam didn't know how to start a fight. He just assumed that the other person would swing first. He was right.

Adam grabbed Jesse's arm and snapped him back to reality. They could both hear the sirens and Adam obviously had gotten scared and wanted out, no matter how badly hurt he was. He didn't want the police to find him here. Jesse scooped him up in his arms and did his best to carry him outside, into the alley. They stumbled through a hole in the fence at the other end of the short street, over at the end of the alley there was a ladder to climb over a brick wall that was blocking them in like rats in a maze.

The police were shining flashlights through the mist and looking all around. One of them found the cellar and ran in, but he ran out just as soon as he went in. He was following a very red and very distinct blood trail leading right to the two boys at the end of the alley.

Jesse was still carrying Adam as fast as he could, but Adam was going limp at an alarming rate. Jesse strained under the weight, because he was by no means a muscular young man. The police footsteps were getting close and Jesse could see the flashlight beams at his heels.

Jesse didn't want to, but saw no other choice, he gently put down the now unconscious Adam in the middle of the street in plain sight. He yelled out for help then ran away as fast as he could. He was going so fast he was certain that he jumped clear over the brick wall at the end of his path.

Running, faster and faster. It felt like knives were being pushed into his legs with his feet on fire. The air was getting colder and it was his favorite time of day. The time of day when the sun is about to hide behind the horizon and the moon is just starting to rule over the city with it's blue glow.

He wasn't running to get away from the police anymore. He was running, like running could get him away from what he just did. Like if he ran fast enough he'd disappear with a trail of fire where he was and end up in a place in time right before the cigarette hit him. He would have knocked it away. Then maybe he never would have gone to the fight tonight. Then maybe Adam wouldn't have had the courage to tap someone on the shoulder. Or maybe he would have tapped someone on the shoulder that was better than him, that wasn't such a pathetic waste of space. Some one who would be able to stop himself from crashing fists onto his a body.

***

He wondered how things would have gone if he hadn't messed up with Helena. He never would have gone fighting, he wouldn't have had the need to. She was his piece of heaven, but he tore her up too many times and she left him for what used to be his best friend.

Touching the ring on a necklace around his neck, the piece of her he carried everywhere, like maybe there was still some happiness in it, he recalled how it symbolized his promise to never let her fall again.

Jesse thought back to when he had been surrounded by friends. He could tell them all everything. Back when he had her, back to when he had Helena. He remembered when they would sit at "their spot" by the lighthouse and watch the waves come in and tell stories that only they would understand. Holding her hand and telling her the three words that were empty whenever he said them now.

***

Jesse kept running. Cutting through yards, feet pounding grass. He now knew where his legs were taking him. One block rested between him and his destination. He stopped in the middle of the road under a street lamp. He inhaled the breeze of misty water in the cool air. He could hear the lake from here.

He jogged through a yard and jumped the tall wooden fence in the backyard. The yard he was standing in owned a large dog and Jesse was a few feet from it's face. The dog woke up and started toward Jesse. Baring teeth and ready to jump.

Jesse stared back into the eyes of the dog as if he could see into the dog's soul. They stood like that for longer than any person ever has to stare at an animal. The dog looked over to the bench where Jesse was headed as if to say it was alright to pass. Like the dog was Phlegyas, and seeing into Jesse's soul, knew he could let him pass into the River Styx, into Jesse's own hell.