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xv. | alexander.

A SOFT BOY
WITH HARD HANDS.

ALEXANDER COLLINS — the malignant

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    ALEXANDER NEVER THOUGHT that he would experience Juvie. That thought was pushed out of his head as soon as he realized he was being hosed down with freezing cold water, next to seven other ass-naked boys.

    What the fuck?

    A guard threw each of the boys an orange jumpsuit and their shoes.

    "Put them on," another guard said.

    After the eight boys looked like a couple of Oompa Loompas, they headed down a hallway in a straight line. A guard stopped the line just as Alexander was about to turn left.

    "Mr. Collins," a guard, whose name tag said P. Subban, said. "Come with me."

    Alexander, who was tall compared to most people, looked like a seven year old compared to Officer Subban. He led him into an office.

    In front of Alexander sat a man in his late fifties with his fingers intertwined. He smiled at Alexander and motioned to the chair in front of him.

    "So, Mr. Collins," the man said. "I hear you are friends with a boy named Charles Lytton."

    Alexander's eyes widened at the mention of Charles's name. He nodded slowly. He read a gold plaque on the desk. It read Stanley Cox.

    "He's a fighter, isn't he?" Stanley asked, a small smile on his face.

    Alexander nodded again.

    "And a good one, right?"

    He nodded. "I guess."

    "Has Mr. Lytton ever taught you anything about fighting?" Stanley asked, leaning forward, getting closer to Alexander.

    Alexander leaned back. "I guess he's taught me a few things, but not —"

    "Perfect!" Stanley exclaimed, standing up from his chair suddenly. He walked to the door and turned around. "Come, come."

    Alexander stood up and practically ran over to Stanley as he led his down corridor after corridor. He opened a door and led Alexander into a room filled with people. He pushed the two of them to the front of the group.

    In the middle of the people was a large, drained swimming pool. Two boys, Alexander's age were in the middle, their fists raised, ready to throw a punch when one challenged the other.

    The boy with dark hair threw the first punch.

    Alexander inhaled sharply.

    Two men next to him were talking.

    "I got a hundred-fifty on blondie," a man in a suit said to the other man.

    "What is this place?" Alexander asked Stanley.

    "Somewhere where you will fit right in," Stanley said, smiling.

    Alexander looked back to the swimming pool as he saw the brunette boy get knocked to the ground by the blond boy, creating a pool of blood where the boy's head was. Alexander's breath hitched in his throat as everyone gasped.

    "You want me to join this thing?" Alexander asked, his voice shaking.

    Stanley nodded slowly, his thin lips contorting into a sick smirk.

    Alexander swallowed hard, looking back to the two boys. The blond boy just kept pounding on the already-hurt brunette.

    Alexander began getting light-headed.

    "You'd fit in perfect," Stanley said. "You're a tall, skinny boy. No one would think that you would win. But your experience with Mr. Lytton would send you sky-rocketing. You just need more confidence. You're a soft boy with hard hands."

    The brunette boy's chest was no longer heaving up and down.

    Alexander wiped his eyes, thinking he was just seeing things.

    "You'll be amazing at this, Alex," Stanley whispered in Alexander's ear.

    "Please don't call me Alex," Alexander said quietly, his stomach churning as he looked at the blood pouring out onto the pool floor.

    "It's what you'll be known as, though," Stanley said, smiling.

    Hot tears began congregating in Alexander's eyes.

    "Why do you do this?" he asked, looking away from the swimming pool.

    "To earn money, of course," Stanley said as if it was obvious. "Alex, you're a smart kid. I thought you'd be able to figure that out."

    Alexander looked behind Stanley a bit. He saw a tall man in a suit. He looked at Alexander. The man had bright blue eyes.

    It was Mr. Pevovski.

    What would Chandler's father be doing here?

    "Why's Mr. Pevovski here?" Alexander asked Stanley.

    Stanley furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "He's one of the most well-established men in the nation. Why wouldn't he be here?"

    "Yeah," Alexander said, getting woozy. "Of course he'd be here."

    Alexander's vision then went black as he fell to the ground.