Leaving Hell Part 1

Chapter 278

Leaving Hell

Part 1

Mr. Gregory smiled at me as two of his men came towards me… Dad and Mr. Vincent were close while Greg and Kirk worked the ball down the field as our team’s plowed Mr. Striker’s team as they hit them hard like little empty soda cans as they crunch them beneath their feet.

Mr. Bronson waited until the last minute as Greg tossed the ball to Kirk inside the goal line. He gasped as Mr. Gregory held a switchblade in his hands and was about to stab me with it. Yet found himself right where I wanted him as I allowed him to capture me. Waiting for him strike with that knife, as my legs met his chest and my two hands slapped his ears causing him to drop the knife as I slid between his legs unscathed as he went for the knife, but his ears were ringing so bad he couldn’t stop his hands from covering them.

Mr. Bronson stepped on the knife as the referee who didn’t see it, accused me and Mr. Bronson in bring a switchblade onto the field. However, the other two refs saw the blade in Mr. Gregory’s hand ending the discussion by replaying the tape so they could see the altercation more carefully, calling an official timeout, to determine the outcome.

Mr. Striker and Mr. Wesley argued back and forth one stating it was clearly Mr. Gregory’s knife while Mr. Striker stated it was mine or Mr. Bronson’s knife, but the replay clearly showed that Mr. Gregory charged at me with the knife in his hand and lost the knife the moment I popped his ear incapacitating him.

Mr. Gregory was benched and Mr. Striker’s team lost 2 points for un-sportsmanship like conduct on the field and since Kirk scored we earned or selves 5 more points. While Mr. Striker’s team lost two of their 5 points down to 3. If you thought Mr. Striker was mad before, he was madder then he was so far today seeing our 10 points on the board vs. his 3, plus one of his best team players was confined to the bench until the first quarter was over, with less then 10 minutes on the clock to go. Knowing a lot can happen in 10 minutes.

Mr. Gregory was seen by a doctor telling Mr. Striker that he wouldn’t be able to play with his eardrums damaged. Mr. Granger said. “If he can walk he can play.” Mr. Wesley gave me a secret high five as I came in behind him grabbing a quick drink. Asking me if I could still play; I nodded I could swallow the water in one quick gulp, in fact, I said. “One down 6 more to go,” watching the team doctor wraps a large bandage over Mr. Gregory’s ears; so he could at least use his hands.

Mr. Striker was beyond pissed more so because he could not add any more players to his team since Mr. Granger had forbidden Mr. Gregory to leave the game and placed on the injured list. If he could have he would got onto the field himself, but since he was the only coach the playbook forbid it and Mr. Granger had refused Mr. Gregory to step in as coach.

None of us could have more than 12 players total and the bulk of those players had to be men or boys. There weren’t enough older boys they wanted or should I say Mr. Striker wanted since all we were good for was making scores, not as grants. Mr. Wesley and Mr. Bronson choose and paid and bribed for the cream of the crop, using the information that they had gathered from our friends and my Dad that knew us.

This time Mr. Striker traded out Eli for Chad filling field players with 7 men grunts charging them too make sure that Chad got the ball and hurt us so we too lost a player. However, Mr. Striker didn’t know anything about Dad and Mr. Vincent or Bishop Earl for that matter. He might have even thought Dad was just a one trick pony after what had happened earlier. Yet the one he and everyone did was underestimated was me unless they really knew me. Mr. Striker said I got off lucky, but know its time to really play the game.

I stuck tongue out at him and flipped him off then turned my bare butt around and slapped it in his direction. Taunting him to come and get me. The field was now more dangerous noticing the showers hadn’t turned off as there was barely a dry spot left. The moment we took the field the shower of chocolate switched places as clear water came out of the ones that had been showering liquid chocolate. I didn’t care; in fact, none of us cared considering we were covered in it.

Again there was a coin toss, and again we gained the ball. Mr. Striker was really getting concerned asking to see the coin as he flipped it several times himself getting different sides of the coin.  Jeff smiled at him as he leaned over Mr. Striker blowing in his ear and whispering, I watched as he shook himself as if the air had turned cold which it hadn’t been as to how hot the containers were burning in the room and the two fireplaces and looked over his shoulders finding no one there.

This time they went after Dad and Dad we were done waiting, as he charged right at the man that was coming after him. Hearing aloud bone muscle crunch as Dad picked up the guy and body like paper and slammed him down on the ground as his elbow came down hard breaking several ribs.

I cringed as Dad got up dusted himself off and went after the next guy plowing into his left side and flipped him over his shoulder and kept on going after the next guy. As he and Mr. Vincent tackled the man in body press and beat the hell out of him as Mark took the ball and ran like crazy as each man was tackled as Chad stood there watching as his grunts were down on the ground, cheering Mark as he scored another 5 points bring us to 15 in total.

Mr. Striker looked at Chad and growled “1 digit and 50 stripes.”

Chad said. “For what? The rules forbid me from going after the ball. It’s the grunts job to tackle the one with the ball and throw it to me so I can score.” Mr. Striker growled angrily as he quickly went over the rules finding out that he was right.

With 3 balls in the basket and 30 seconds left on the clock first quarter ended. The score was 15 too 3 in our favor. Mr. Granger was furious because we have taken down another player and this time he wasn’t going to be able to walk not with a fractured leg and three broken ribs courtesy of Dad.

The other player didn’t look much better with a broken arm and three fingers busted, two black eyes swelling up that he would have a hard time seeing and several missing teeth. He couldn’t even walk a straight line wrapping his arms around his sides. Mr. Striker was now down 1 player, if he lost 2 more he was done.

Mr. Granger and he were in a heated conversation reminding him what will happen if he doesn’t win, having him yell back. “What hell I am supposed to do obliterate them to the point they can’t play or stop them from putting points on the broad?”

All Mr. Granger said was. “Both… you have more men then they do, you have the cream of the crop of the biggest of the best when it comes to men. You have never lost game using the same men. Mr. Wesley and his friend Mr. Bronson have chosen weak players, filling their roster with more boys that are nothing more than good high school athletes.”

Mr. Wesley smiled said. “Oh wouldn’t call them that, considering Nate did it all by himself to your man Mr. Gregory and he was the one holding the knife and looked how that turned out. My money’s on us winning the purse. Care to bet by how much?” The crowd was cheering and ranting some called us cheaters, only making me wanting to prove them wrong. Mr. Wesley asked Coach Brady if I was done, causing him to kill over laughing and whispered something in his ear. Coach smiled and nodded giving him play out of his own playbook.

Mr. Gregory, however, was tasked to do whatever it took to bring me down or he would be the laughing stock for many years to come if a mere boy like me bested him, providing he lived that long. Coach asked me if I had warmed up enough, that he wanted me to show Mr. Wesley some of my special moves. Like the two rounded knife kick, we called the fairy ice princess move. Thing is even though the name sounded girly it was anything but.

I lathered my self up really good and made sure I had lots of grease easing through my toes as I stretched a bit. It had been a long time since I had done that move, and I needed room to do it. It was our 4 grunts job to give me the room I needed. We called it around the barn and back. Greg and Kirk were going to work the ball and pass it to me getting everyone’s attention on me. While Kirk sneaks through enemy territory and scores us the point, but he was told miss the hole; wanting them to take their eyes off me and on him; thinking that we had just made a critical error. 

Again we won the coin toss, for the 4 times in a row, causing the referee to check the coin finding nothing wrong with it, but Mr. Striker and Mr. Granger demand that coin be retired. Pulling out one of his own. Jeff faked a yawn as he manipulated the coin to come down in our favor. Mr. Granger gasped and looked at Mr. Striker and then Mr. Wesley. Neither of them had a clue what was going on.

Jeff then returned to his duties working with Tony as he sent men to carefully extract eligible pledge boys or girls from the room, by simply tranqing the ones that had them as if they had fallen asleep where Jeff was able to possess them long enough to hand them over to one of our guys as they sold them to them without so much as a second thought then walked way in a daze to some location within the building, and fall asleep until long after the celebration was over where they would be dealt with accordingly.

Like I said we could save the children here in the house and the ones here in Heber City Utah. But we couldn’t save them all them across the globe where the satanic church was the strongest. However, it was up to their own tasks force to gather the ones they can reach. But the world was too vast to save them all and it bothered all of us knowing that some boy or some girl was going to be killed to tonight, as their parents offer them up as a sacrifice for gold, power of some sort.

I was realest I knew people died every day even children, but what bothered me the most was some children didn’t have to die because their parents wanted something so badly that they would kill their own flesh and blood that they nurtured and loved all for a Demon God that doesn’t care about them as they sell their very souls to them.

My father was a cruel heartless man, but even he wouldn’t sacrifice his two daughters for any amount of money, but he would do it for me or my brother in heartbeat, even though he didn’t believe in their Demon God. He would kill us for the simple reason he hated us, and wanted us gone, no matter what it took.

If someone wanted to sacrifices us to some Demon God, he let them, in fact, he watch or even help if necessary. I had lost count on how many times he and my mother had tried to kill me growing up and neither of them was devil worshipers or drug addicts looking for a fix. Nor angry drunks; they were just cruel everyday parents; who felt that Aaron and I didn’t have the right to breathe the same air as everyone else.

Why that was, I do not know, they never told me other than the fact they hated us. It wasn’t until recently my mother changed her tune had decided that she actually wanted us in her life. Mostly I think it was because of our family and her friends had something she didn’t have… which was a complete loving family. Sad to say she never got that. Not with my father or my two sisters always making it difficult because neither of them wanted any part of that kind of life and after 25 or so years that hasn’t changed, even after my mother had passed away.

My two sisters and my father hate me and Aaron as much as they ever did. More so me, Aaron they use because they know he will do anything for them hoping still to please my father and my two sisters. Actually, It is more Susan other than Becky since Susan won by kicking her to the curb so she could be the only child, even still I haven’t seen or talked to Becky in over 20 so years.

I returned to my focus on the game as Mr. Wesley and Coach Brady worked out the play that would hopefully cripple Mr. Striker’s team even more. If we scored fine, if we didn’t that was fine too considering we were head by 12 points; we quickly took the field having Dad ask me if I was ready to do this; gave him low five and took my positions.

Mr. Striker had just been yelling at Mr. Gregory because he was hard of hearing after what I had done to him and with the bandages over his ears to help him with the ringing in his ears. Mr. Striker looked at me dragging his finger across his throat I stuck my tongue out at him and waited for the ball.

Mr. Vincent snapped the ball and threw it in my direction and I caught half hazard like because my fingers were slick with grease. It didn’t help walking right under a shower of liquid chocolate. Everyone moved out my way as Kirk and I tossed the ball back and forth then to Greg and back to me as Mr. Gregory came right at me. I everyone gave him the room and then closed the gate behind him and went back to take care of Mr. Strikers grunts.

I tossed the ball to Kirk as everyone eyes were on me and Mr. Gregory knowing there was bad blood between us. I reached my mark and prepared myself. Allowing him to reach me noticing in his hands he had spiked fingers that had been add to the brass knuckles, he said. “You’re going down and you’re not getting back up. My life is more important than yours boy.” Noting how open I was laughing because no one was coming to save me as he watched from the corner of his eyes that all my grunts were protecting the other two boys all the way to the goal line.

I faked a soft yawn and letting him come closer as he swung his right fist at me, then realized that was exactly what I wanted. As I pulled me around to his back using the momentum as I began to bend my knees just enough into a half circle, sweeping his left leg as he began to fall with his right fist and arm in the air; allowing my hips to cartwheel as letting my feet tap his jaw breaking more teeth as they were thrown from his mouth as if it was in slow motion.

For me though and him wasn’t a blur of what my body was doing to him as I was coming down hard, spinning into half kick bring back his arm and pulling it back as I dislocated his right shoulder hearing that sickening pop as his arm went limp the wrong way. He screamed and everyone heads turned as I let go did two back flips and motioned him forward with my fingers. He was in raged as he came after me. I had learned a long time ago bullies are idiots when they became angered and Mr. Gregory was no different from them.

I turned around walking slowly back to my side. People shouting at me to turn around, not realizing that was exactly what I wanted.  Feeling him behind me about to wrap his good arm around my throat, but instead, he grasped nothing but air as I fell to my knees and punched right into his sternum causing him to lose all the air in his lungs bending over.

Watching my body land on my hands in finished him off as my legs and feet came up wrapping around his neck as I brought me up causing my body too slid closer to his head and using my hand did a quick pop, pop, against his already injured ears. And head-butted him against his nose re-breaking it as he fell backward with me on his chest screaming in so much pain, but without as much air in his lungs. It was more of whispered scream or hissing gasp as blood and tears ran down his face.

I stood up crossing my feet beneath his head for balance and pulling it as I fell on his chest. Knocking what air he had left with a body slam, breaking two ribs, and falling back grabbing his feet as I created an arch, pulling his head and feet like a stretched rubber band. Then let go of his head rolled back using the force and landed in between his legs with his feet in the air across my shoulders bring down my two arms across his knee caps as he legs and muscle buckled and did the rest by tearing the muscle and fractioning his knee caps. He was done; his goose was cooked as I got up and walked away. It took four men on a stretcher to carry him. I walked by Mr. Striker at arm's length and said. “Next” faked a yawn and walked to our side of the field.