The face of a man that hasn't seen sleep in three days is what stares at him through the mirror. The dips and folds of his face where shadows hide taunt him as the world moves at a speed that makes him dizzy. The last ding of the bell rings so clearly in his head like an echo from the depths of hell.
Ty remembers the small shell of a boy that walked–more like was dragged–through the Aesir gym doors. His collar gripped in the hand of one of Ty's father's men, his fist swinging wildly and his eyes mad like a rabid dog. He was frail, hungry and abandoned. The way his clothes drooped and sagged against his lithe frame and his overgrown hair matted against his skull told everything Ty needed to know. He can still remember the roar from the man that held him as the young boy's teeth sank into bare flesh, blood bursting forth and spilling on Ty's freshly mopped floor.
The boy didn't get far, apparently making an enemy of Ty's father's men, the commotion giving rise to the man upstairs.
Big heavy boots hit the steps one by one. Even the feral look in the boy's eyes tamed as the man came into view.
“What's your name, boy?” Father said, bending ever so slightly to look the mad dog in the eye. The boy spit, fluid landing on Father’s patched eye. The air stilled, the group of men waiting to see what would become of this young boy, but all that came was a deep rumbling laugh from Father, his hand poised on his gut as if it contained him from bursting with gaiety.
Father turned to Ty, wiping a tear from one eye, “He's your responsibility now.” and with that Father went back up the stairs leaving a silent understanding in his wake.
What Father said, went and so Ty did what he was told without question.
The criminal underbelly of the city rested in the hands of Father, he controlled the ebb and flow of it all and Ty’s gym was only a piece of it. Yet, without it their world would come to a grinding halt like the rusted cogs of a broken machine. Ty cared not for the drugs, the money or the power but the gym with its chalk covered mats and sandbags that swung on clanging hooks was his sanctuary and this boy was the devil.
The darkest corner is where he lurked and you only had one warning before he lurched and took a piece of flesh as his prize. Every man that walked through those gym doors avoided the skulking boy in the corner, the wide berth necessary to keep your skin attached to your body. All but Ty kept their distance, ignoring the shaggy figure as they moved in the ring exchanging blows for practice.
Ty tossed the boy an apple and like a wild animal the boy sniffed at it as if trying to detect a hint of poison before devouring it whole including the core and stem.
“More,” came a gruff voice too deep to be from a child, but Ty obliged, sharing the chili he'd made for the gym. It was quiet as they sat feet apart, spoons clinking on glass bowls. The gym was empty aside from the two dining and the man upstairs.
“More,” he said again, finishing much faster than Ty himself who was easily three times his size. Ty didn't say a word and just ladeled more of the hot stew into his bowl. The mad dog's eyes sparkled into something less feral than what Ty was used to seeing and it warmed his chest for a reason he still can't explain.
The boy had finished four more bowls of food before Ty refused another. He didn't want him to be sick, but it might have been too late at that point. To Ty's surprise the boy kept it down and a sated smile turned the corners of his mouth.
“Fen,” said the boy. “My name is Fen.”
Fen was trouble and he knew it. As time passed his body grew monstrous in size, his behavior growing alongside him. In and out of the ring men fell at his feet in fear or in defeat. He stood at nearly seven feet tall with muscles the size of a wolf’s head and the world trembled when he walked. Father’s men would rather liken the boy dead than stalking the shadows and wreaking havoc, but he was Ty’s responsibility and Ty wasn’t a good enough disciplinary. Neither was he a teacher as the moments they’d spent in the ring together taught Fen little to no lessons but what a sharp jab to ribs can do to an opponent.
“You need to be more careful,” Ty said, scratching his beard as he watched Fen scarf down a fourth plate of dinner. “You could’ve killed that guy, he was already down.”
“He should’ve kept his mouth shut.” Fen’s fork clinked against his teeth, a subtle growl accompanied his words.
Ty looked at him with tired eyes. “You’re much stronger than words, my boy.”
Fen only grunted and finished his food, but the dishes were done and the gym was clean the next morning. Ty knew that it was only to quell his frustrations with the young man and that it wasn’t an apology for what he did.
“I warned you to keep him on a tighter leash,” Father spoke. Ty’s head hung heavy between his shoulders, but the guilt pierced through him and gripped his heart. The disappointment radiated through the room and Ty couldn’t find the words that would convince his father that he wasn’t as useless as he thought. Fen had killed and it could’ve been swept under the rug had it not been for the person that met their fate at his hands. “He could destroy us all one day, he needs to be dealt with.”
“Father, please!” Ty’s hands shook and he clasped them together to hide his weakness. His father glared with the single eye still remaining in his head. It was much too late to plead.
Ty watched as Fen fought the men Father had presented as a challenge, telling the boy if he beats all three opponents then his slate would be wiped clean and they could all forget his transgressions. The first two of the men fell with no great fanfare, barely landing a hit to the tree-sized boy that moved way too fast for his stature. He had balance, grace and speed on top of his mighty strength and it was terrifying. Fen threw a cocky grin towards the man that took him under his wing, but it was only met with sadness.
The final act to Fen’s trial gathered laughs from the men who watched as the final adversary stood at barely five feet, the shorts he wore tied with shoelaces to keep them from slipping down his legs. Of all the laughter that collected in the room Fen and Ty’s never joined the chorus.
The bell rang, the clanging sound vibrating through Ty’s blood turned his fingers cold. The fight lasted much longer than the two previous and the old man knew it was over before it had even started. Ty’s eyes closed when he heard the thud of a body hitting the mat, too loud to be the small man that seemed much too large for the ring. Fen’s eyes rolled in his head, blood dripped from every opening of his face, new and old.
Ty could only see the pup that dropped at his feet all that time ago, that threatened to eat him out of house and home, that always dealt him a bruising blow when they practiced and the only person that he could say he truly had a love for. He reached out a hand to grasp at bloody knuckles and was met with a grip that could crush bone.
The final bell rings and the laughter that had filled the gym had been replaced with celebration. The devil had finally fallen.
There were so many wires and tubes that littered his body, but Ty still found a way to hold the boy’s hand.
“You could’ve had him killed,” Ty said to his father. “Why this?”
Father’s only answer: “A man like that cannot be killed, but only stopped. We just have to be ready for when he wakes.”
Ty’s sanctuary no longer holds the smell of chalk, sweat and blood, but the altar he bows to is shrouded in white and antiseptic.
