The Art of Fields

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Eighteen: "Never give up, anger is a poison."


"Never give up.”


My chest was tightening from our plan, but I focus my attention on the door. Opening it only slightly, a ray of light fills the dark room we were in. I peek outside seeing no one, the music had died down a while ago. We were lucky enough to have ducked out of the bodyguard's way, just to have the element of surprise on our hands.

“Are any one of them there?” Jack asks, pacing in the darkroom, with large heavy steps. He seemed a little on edge but who wouldn’t be.

“No,” I say, shaking my head. My eyes starting over the still, uninterrupted halls lined with black walls and a pastel grey carpet. “Where the hell are they?”

Jack suspires, “Maybe--” his words get cut off as I hear shuffling in the far end of the corridor. I pull a hand out to tell him to stop talking. He walks closer to me, his hand on the wall behind me. Goosebumps traveling through my skin at the proximity.

I shake my head off the thought. Jack doesn’t like people, he’s one of those goofy guys who take almost nothing seriously and does whatever they want for fun. I purse my lips together and keeping my mind on the lingering shuffles coming from outside.

Jack places his hand on my shoulder, “We’ll be okay, relax.” He says in a soothing tone, sensing my stiffness.

I back away from the door, bumping into him. “One of them is coming this way,” I say in a hurried tone, my heart pounding against my chest.

Jack nods and cracks his back. He stands close to the door and looks outside several times. I stand a little back and get ready for my part of the plan. We both had to dispose of one of the guards, which would be a piece of cake since there would be two of us and one of him.

Jack pulls the door open and yanks the guy by the shoulder into the dark room. I throw a lunch into the Mountain’s head but it doesn’t even dent him. He smiles widely and shoves me onto the floor with one effortless blow, making my body fly across the air and into hard metal boxes, almost wiping me out.

My vision was blurry, I almost thought the guy had two heads. I see Jack dodging the punches thrown his way but quite often, one lands on him and he grunts in pain. “Stay there.” Jack groans as he ducks in pain.

“No,” I state and raise to my feet. I balance myself and although my head feels like jelly, I blink a couple of times and walk forward. He was towering over Jack who was struggling to get to his feet.

Never give up.

I live by that. For the past two years, I’ve been living by that one sentence that held the weight of my life on its fingertips. I know it’s just a sentence, but it had a value that I think a lot of the world’s suicidal people can build on. People who remind me of my previous self.

I huff a cloud of air and pounce on the back of the monster in the darkroom. He grouses and wiggles trying to get the tiny pest, me, off his back. I throw punches over his face, and he grimaces before yanking on my leg and smashing my body to the ground. Jack bolts to him and throws him forward onto the metal boxes, and the guy’s head whacks on one of them. Due to the compact material, his eyes close shut and he finally doesn’t move.

“I-Is he dead?” I murmur mostly to myself.

Jack shakes his head and leans on a wall. “You alright?”

“You’re almost dying.” I say, walking to his frail body, “And you’re asking me?”

Jake nods his head, a goofy smile in his face which looks like it hurt to even make. “What are you going to do, Ally? I care about you.”

“I’m sure all the Jack fan club would love to hear that,” I say and walk to the fallen guy on the floor. Jack doesn’t reply but I feel his curious stare on me as I walk to the giant. I flip him over, using all the energy in me, seeing an unfamiliar face. “It isn’t one of Philippe’s guys.”

I hear Jack’s feet shuffling on the ground, he limps to me and I hold him up even after he insists he’s ‘fine’. “Who the hell is he?” He asks, not expecting me to answer.

“He’s one of mine.”

Our heads snap too fast towards the husky voice behind us. Holding one of Jack’s arm over my shoulder, we turn our bodies to the guy at the door. Illuminating light seeping into the congruous room we were in.

The man was lanky, his face had stubbles of a growing beard. His eyes bloodshot, with crazy written across their brown pupils. A permanent smile glued to his face as he examines us. “You two are coming with me.”

Jack gets off my support and tries to threaten but his body refused to cooperate looking like he was throwing under a bus. “I don’t think so, asshole.”

“You don’t have a choice.”

The sentence was irking every bone in my weak body. “We have the choice to kick your ass, it’s two to one,” I say and grab Jack before he falls on his face. Again he resists claiming he’s ‘fine’ but I insist.

We hear clanking of feet in the corridor, the harsh stomping of feet growing louder. It stops when we see the guys behind the sick man at the front claiming to be the ring leader.

I hear Jack’s breathing hitch as does mine when we see one particular guy walk to the front. His face submerged in astonishment and skepticism.

“Jack, Alexie.” The blond asks, his eyes not tearing away from our gazes. “What are you doing here?”

Jack chuckles almost like he can’t believe it. “We could ask you the same question, traitor.”



“Anger is a poison.”


Our shoes slap against the grey carpets making minimal noise. Chase pulls a hand over and pushes me against the wall with him. My back slightly banging into the black cold wall, he looks at me and murmurs a small apology which I dismiss.

Chase and I had the same task as Jack and Alexie, to take out one of the bodyguards that hovered around Philippe. Since they were in the process of taking out one, we just had to get the other one.

A couple of muffled voices come from around the corner and we hide under the dim lighting. There were so many people even after the music died down. I assumed the party was over but with the people crawling all over this place, I wasn’t quite sure anymore.

It was becoming more difficult to identify the bodyguard amongst the people loitering in the halls. These people weren’t even party-goers, they were dressed in sleek, tight clothes almost as if it was an improved ninja outfit without the mask.

Chase turns to me, his eyes widening, “Shit.” Before I could ask what happened, he motions his head to across the corner. I lean over the wall and look over the corner.

My hand clamps to my mouth to muffle my exhilarating breathing rate, sending my body shaking. “Traitor.” The one word that could sum up the dirty blond I saw. He was behind two guys pulling Jack and Alexie onto rusting metal chairs, wrapping their arms behind. My heart yearned at the sight of those two. They were in shambles, Jack could hardly even walk without tripping over his own two feet.

Chase’s breathing hikes as well but it seems more infuriated than surprised. “Whoever did that, is going to pay.” I rub my hand over his shoulder trying to calm him down before we do something we would regret immensely.

Anger is a poison.

Over the years, I’ve learned that acting on anger and frustration is not the best that you can do. The blood boiling under your skin craves revenge, pain, and anguish to the people who do you wrong. That’s why acting on a reflex isn’t beneficial to anyone, the actor, or the receiver. I agree, bad people need to be smacked across the face for being mentally ill thinking that causing pain is joyous to them. But, the act of smacking the asshole should be done with precision, not as a reflex. That would deprive the actual purpose.

I look away from my two best friends being treated as if they were animals in a cage, rattling against the cage in a poor attempt of redemption. “There are five people there including Nick and they’re huge.”

Chase huffs, “We can take them.”

I push his face to me, and his chest was rising and falling from the rage inside him. “We are not going to mess up because if we do, we’ll be there with them and we can’t help them. Do you understand me?”

Chase’s dark eyes dig into my blue eyes for a while, but he nods. His fists unclench, his veins disappearing from his face and neck. I drop my arms from his shoulders and he sighs shakily, “Alright, what do we do?”

I look around the dimly litted hallways, finding a room opposite where we were standing. I point to it and Chase nods understanding. We needed to get off the radar for a while until we could come up with a sensible plan.

I enter first and Chase trails behind me, we close the door. The room was just as dimly lit as the outside, a couple of metal boxes laying around. A pool of blood located under one of the boxes filling unanswerable questions in my mind. I see a fallen black bracelet laying on the floor, “Alexie.” I state to myself and Chase walks to me, his tongue clicks in impatience.

I wanted to get them back as much as they did, we just had to do this in a well-structured method. I slide the bracelet into my jean pocket and walk to the door where Chase was leaning on, trying to listen to any sounds or such.

“We need to get everyone,” I say, fumbling for my phone. I take it out and see the connection bar nonexistent with a red slash over it. I shake my phone stupidly, “There’s no signal.”

Chase turns to me, his eyebrows knitting into a line. “Something’s wrong. This was definitely a bad idea, all of this. What if everyone is being fucked over just like Jack and Alexie?”

I shake my head, “Don’t be a pessimist, Chase.”

“It isn’t pessimism.” He gripes, “It’s perfectly possible, I don’t want it to be but--” his eyes widen and he pulls my wrist towards him. My body gets flung over to his side and I turn, his hands still out in protection.

“You know those bitches that whacked my head?” A robust man speaks, lurking out of the shadows. His fists the size of my face. He walks forward and I notice Chase tense up, setting his jawline.

I move away from Chase’s back and stand next to him. Cracking my own knuckles, I smirk sickly, “You have an idea how much we would love to put you down.”

There was only one of him, anger is a poison that intoxicates you into thinking you know what is right. The door was closed behind us, and it was two against one. Ignoring the urge to get revenge for Jack and Alexie, I knew this was a plausible decision. It was either him or us.

I feel a slight breeze from behind me, a gush of light enveloping the room. I turn towards it with Chase, the rage filling my vessels at this point. Nick stands at the brim of the threshold, his face completely blank of emotion. He looks at the guy behind us, “No need for any of that, guys come with us.”

Chase loses all form of composure, “I bailed you out of juvie. Do you remember that? Would you like me to slap you across the head so that you remember who you’re hurting?” He walks close to Nick, his breath hitting his face. Nick stops the giant from clobbering Chase and allows him to continue. “Zoey is here. Your little sister is here, and you are hurting her best friends. Her best friends that saved your ass at some point in your lingering past.”

I yank Chase’s arm away from Nick, seeing how useless it was against Nick’s rigid features. I don’t find the right words to say, my throat feeling like sandpaper rubbing against my trachea.

Nick repeats in the same monotone tone. He unclogs the doorway, “Please come with us. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Too late.” I sputter.

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