Still Written in Me · Y/n story by @servecunt

The warehouse throbbed like a living thing. Bass vibrated up through the soles of your shoes, and the air was thick with sweat, cheap cologne, and the sharp, metallic scent of adrenaline. Bodies pressed close in the dimness, lit sporadically by harsh work lights strung from the steel rafters.

Ella

I told you it would be packed! Isn’t this insane?

A makeshift ring stood in the center of the cavernous space, ropes strung between metal posts. The crowd around it pulsed, a sea of shadowed faces and raised phones. You felt a familiar, cold dread begin to pool in your stomach. You hated this. The noise, the aggression, the raw, exposed violence of it all.

Announcer

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! ARE YOU READY FOR THE MAIN EVENT?

The crowd roared. Ella whooped, jostling you. You tried to smile, to play along, but your lungs felt tight. You scanned the shadowy edges of the ring, a habit you thought you’d forgotten.