Defeat

“Bring it!” I had screamed at them, and bring it, they did. I laid on the cold floor of the basketball court, beaten to a pulp. There might be a broken bone somewhere, it was hurting that much.

But all that beating didn’t do much to numb the real pain. I didn’t know why I never realized her true identity. Obviously a common young girl would not be able to roam the manor as freely as she did. If she wasn’t a servant, then she must be…

“Stupid, stupid, stupid! You’re so stupid, Lorenzo!” I yelled as loudly as I could in the empty gymnasium, and smashed my already bloodied fist into the cold hardwood floor. I heard a crack, and the pain shot through my knuckles. My mind went blank for the briefest moment, and I slumped back down onto the floor, face down, staring at nothing.

My whole body hurt, but all the broken bones in my body did not hurt as much as the muscles constricting tightly in my chest.

Why? Why did it hurt that much to find out who she really was? Was it because she was THE princess? The precious daughter of Don Cesare, the most powerful man in the underworld? After all, a princess could not, and should not, be in the company of a good-for-nothing lowlife like myself.

No, it’s not that. If she had minded, she would not have hung out so much in the first place. She would not laugh, and cry, and pout the way she did. She also would not spar with me, or encourage me when my spirits were low.

If it didn’t matter then, why should it matter now? Why did I feel like I can never face her the way I did, or tease her when I mess up her hair?

Was it because she’s engaged?

Was it because she was already someone else’s? Someone who was no less a person I admired? Was it because she was someone else’s soon-to-be-wife?

Leonardo Morietti, second to none other than Don Cesare, a commander in every fiber of his being. Surely she could marry no other man. There was no other man worthy of her status. I should be happy for her.

But it hurt. It hurt. So badly.

I'm in love with her.

My chest tightened even harder with that realization. My vision clouded over, and before I knew it, a pool of tears had formed where I was laying on the floor. I was crying. How pathetic. A grown-up man, wailing his lungs out in an empty gym on the floor.

I didn’t know how much time had passed, or when the tears stopped flowing. My throat hurt, but I had no energy to look for water. The sun was shining into the gym. Dawn had come.

I turned over onto my back. My body still hurt. My chest was still hard. If I had any liquids left in me I’m sure they would’ve exited through my tear ducts. I had lost many, many times, but no defeat had ever felt this real before – not when I lost in a fight, not when I lost a gamble, and certainly not when I lost a drinking match.

Nothing came close to losing the woman I love to another man.

The worst thing was, I had already lost before it even began.

***

Author's note: I'm used to letting my instincts take over when I write. In fact, much of my work are developed from the ideas that form from the moment I receive the theme/title of the story. This one, I hope, reflects the true emotions a thug might experience from losing the love of his life to someone else.

If it doesn't, forgive me. I'm not a thug ^^lll