He tried to fight me off, but he didn't stand a chance in hell.
I punched him again and relished when I saw a few teeth fall out. Blood filled his mouth as I dragged him into the kitchen, purposely knocking his head into every hard surface I could find along the way.
We grappled for a few more minutes before I landed on top of him. I continued to punch him letting my rage take over.
“It was the steroids, Jackson. It turned me into a different person. I don't know who I am anymore. Lilly pissed me off and—” he started to sputter through the blood in his mouth.
The fact that he was even attempting to defend himself and still blame Lilly after what he had done only fueled my anger and pain.
“You're a fucking killer,” I growled before I dealt another blow to his head.
It was something we were going to have in common real soon.
His eyes opened wide. “Stop. You're really gonna kill me, Jackson.”
My fist went flying straight for his chest, effectively silencing him.
His eyes rolled back in his head and a low gurgling sound filled the room.
I reached down and fisted his hair while meeting his stare. “Did you listen when my baby sister begged you to stop?” I questioned before I sent a karate chop straight to his neck.
Adrenaline mixed with guilt, grief and wrath like I'd never felt before coursed through me as I continued to pummel him.
At some point, I saw life leave his traitorous eyes and heard sirens looming in the distance.
“His blood was literally found on your hands, Mr. Reid. You don't stand a chance in hell of walking away from this without doing some serious prison time.” My good for nothing attorney informed me.
I glanced down at the cuffs around my wrists. “Did they test his blood for steroids like I told you to have them do?” I asked.
“Yeah. He came back clean.”
Fuck. How was that even possible?
That meant that he was in his right state of mind when he murdered her after all.
Rage bubbled in my chest at the thought.
I leaned back in my chair and sighed. “He killed my baby sister. It was self-defense.”
He matched my sigh. “His attorney is saying otherwise, son.”
“His attorney. What the fuck are you talking about? He's dead- as he should be. Why the fuck does he have an attorney?”
He fixed his tie before he looked at me. “I didn't want to be the one to break it to you, but there's no point in keeping it from you any longer. The big-time sponsor and agent that Mike signed with are going after you, Jackson. Not to mention his very wealthy parents. They're working with the prosecution and blaming it all on you. They're doing everything that they can to protect their brand. And his parents are doing everything they can to protect their family's reputation. They're fighting your story tooth and nail. They're a huge sponsor and combined with Mike's family they have lots of connections and resources. They have the means to take you down.”
He paused and looked down. “And the fact is- there were only three people there that night...and two of them are now dead. It's your word against theirs...and it doesn't look good. Especially because you basically admitted to killing him.”
He reached into his briefcase and pulled out a folder. “Also, this showed up at my office today. I'm really sorry, Jackson.”
I skimmed the letter and pounded my fist on the table. My own sponsor and agent had officially dropped me.
I would no longer be welcomed in the professional MMA world ever again.
“So what are my options?”
He ran a hand over his bald head. “Well, I talked to the prosecutor. I got Man-one off the table.” He pulled another stack of papers out and moved his glasses up his nose. “The best they will offer you at this point is Manslaughter-two. 15-25 years. However, here's the clincher- if you don't take the deal. Mike's team will be teaming up with the prosecution against you.” He sighed. “I hate to say it—but this is the only shot you've got.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose and snorted. “15-25 years, for killing a piece of shit abuser?”
He visibly swallowed. “And Lilly,” he whispered.
I stood up to my full height of 6'3 and got in his face, my shackles straining against me. “What the fuck do you mean and Lilly? I didn't kill my sister!” I screamed.
If I wasn't shackled to the heavy metal desk, I would have beat the crap out of him for spewing some shit like that.
He took a step back. “I told you, Mike's team is working with the prosecution. They're not putting the blame on Mike for this, Jackson. They're twisting some horrid tale about you and your sister being super close after growing up the way you did...if you catch my drift.”
Bile ascended my throat as he continued. “They're going to say that you were jealous of Mike and your sister’s relationship. Combined with the fact that he came from wealth and landed a much better sponsor than you did...it all leads to jealousy being the motive.”
“But, I was at the fight that night. Hell, I won my fight that night. Hundreds of people saw me with their own eyes. Mike and Lilly never even showed up!”
“They're saying that you killed them before the fight because you didn't want him to compete in the first place.” He made air quotes with his hands. “Because your jealousy got the best of you and finally came to a head.”
I threw up my hands. “And then what? I just decided to attend my fight with his blood on my hands and then return to the scene of the crime instead of getting the hell out of dodge? That's insane.”
“According to the prosecution's story, you returned to find a way to get rid of the bodies.”
“This is bullshit.”
“It is,” he agreed.
I shook my head. “I'm not taking that deal. I'll take my chances in court. I didn't kill Lilly. If they were just accusing me of killing Mike, I would consider folding- because I did kill him. But I will not go down for committing the heinous act that he did.”
He rubbed his scalp again and sat back down in the chair. “Look, I've got to level with you. We won't win this.” He motioned toward the papers on the desk. “I'm good at my job. And I fully believe you didn't kill Lilly, even more- I understand what you did to Mike...but I can't win this. The system is corrupt as fuck, and we've got everything going against us right now. You're not walking away from this. The only option left is to plead insanity and spend the rest of your life in a straight jacket and a padded room.”
I got up and motioned for the guard on the opposite side of the door.
“No,” I said gruffly.
Ten days before my trial was supposed to begin, I was informed I had a visitor. Since my lawyer had pretty much all but given up on the case, I was a little surprised.
Maybe he had finally come to his senses and decided to fight for me the way he was supposed to.
I looked around the dreary gray room while I took a seat beside the metal desk. My attention soon focused on the sound of the door opening.
In walked a man wearing an impeccable suit, holding a fairly large briefcase.
He tipped his hat at me before he sat down in front of me.