Chapter 26: Reflections

As the crowd dispersed around the cage, they didn't disperse entirely, instead, they migrated towards the nearby grill, where Joey was busy preparing a feast.

The savory aroma of sizzling meat wafted through the air, enticing everyone's senses.

Damon sat on a bench, his gloves and mouthguard discarded on the plastic container beside him. He was still trying to process the events that had transpired.

Tim, on the other hand, had made a swift exit, likely to nurse his wounded pride. Damon didn't blame him; being submitted in front of a crowd that had been hyping him up was a tough pill to swallow.

As Damon sat there, he became aware of his own pungent aroma.

His homeless smell, combined with the sweat from the intense fight, made him less than desirable company.

He understood why no one sat next to him, their noses wrinkling in distaste.

The sound of laughter and chatter filled the air, accompanied by the clinking of utensils on plates.

Damon's stomach growled, reminding him that he hadn't eaten in a while. He eyed the grill, his mouth watering at the sight of the juicy meat.

Joey, ever the host, made his way over to Damon. "Hey, champ, you must be starving!" he exclaimed, his voice booming across the gathering.

Damon stood up, his muscles still tense from the fight, and followed Joey's gaze as he looked him up and down.

"Follow me," Joey said, already walking towards the house. Damon trailed behind him, taking in the sights and sounds of the neighborhood.

The houses were small and worn, but they seemed well-maintained, with tidy lawns and colorful gardens.

As they entered the house, Damon was struck by its simplicity and cleanliness. The furniture was old but well-cared for, and the air was fresh and free of clutter.

Joey led him to the bathroom, a small but functional space with a shower, sink, and toilet. "So, Damon, go take a shower," Joey said, handing him a towel and a set of clothes.

"These don't fit me anymore, but they should fit you. Once you're done, come get a meal."

Damon nodded, feeling a mix of gratitude and wariness. He couldn't help but wonder why Joey was being so kind to him.

As Joey turned to leave, Damon called out to him. "Joey!"

Joey turned around, his expression curious. "Why are you doing this?" Damon asked, his voice a little rougher than he intended.

"I mean, I'm grateful and all, but people don't do things for free."

Joey paused, a small smile playing on his lips. He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound, and turned to face Damon.

"You're right, people don't do things for free," he said. "But let's say I was once in your shoes. I'm living better now, and I hope you will too."

"Come on, go take a shower. I'll tell you the story later."

Damon nodded, feeling a sense of relief wash over him.

As he turned to enter the bathroom, he remembered something. "Oh, wait," he said, turning back to Joey.

"Can you leave an extra meal? I've got someone I want to feed too."

Joey's eyes widened in surprise, but he nodded. "Sure, I'll do that."

Damon closed the bathroom door behind him, the click of the lock echoing through the small space.

He stood still for a moment, his eyes scanning the room as if taking in every detail.

The tile floor, the worn sink, the shower curtain with its faded pattern - everything seemed so foreign, yet so welcoming.

He felt a lump form in his throat as he approached the shower, his hand reaching out to turn the faucet.

The sound of running water filled the air, a soothing melody that seemed to wash away some of the tension in his body.

As he stepped under the warm spray, Damon closed his eyes, letting the water cascade down his face.

He felt a tear escape, trickling down his cheek, and quickly wiped it away, embarrassed by his own emotions.

He opened his eyes to gaze at his reflection in the mirror. The person staring back at him looked worn, weary, and worn down.

Damon's eyes narrowed as he took in the sharp angles of his face, the stubble that covered his jawline, and the scars that crisscrossed his skin.

"I look just like him," he whispered, a wry smile twisting his lips. He looked down, his eyes focusing on the tile floor as a sigh escaped his lips.

The warm water continued to flow, a constant presence that seemed to wash away some of the grime and grit that had built up over the years.

Damon's shoulders relaxed, his muscles unknotting as he let the water work its magic.

He stood there for a long time, lost in thought, the only sound the gentle patter of the water against his skin.

After drying himself off, Damon continued to stare at his reflection, his eyes tracing the lines and scars on his face.

He couldn't shake off the feeling of unease that settled in his stomach. His thoughts drifted to his mother, and he mumbled under his breath, "I'm sorry, Mom. I'm a constant reminder of your pain."

The words hung in the air, a whispered apology to a ghost from his past. Damon's gaze lingered on his reflection, searching for answers that never seemed to come.

He looked away, his eyes scanning the bathroom as if searching for an escape from his thoughts.

Finally, he broke free from his reverie and began to dress in the clothes Joey had provided.

The fabric felt soft against his skin, a gentle caress that was a far cry from the rough, tattered clothing he was used to.

As he buttoned up the shirt, Damon caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He looked different, cleaner, and more put together than he had in years.

But the eyes that stared back at him still held a deep sadness, a reminder of the pain and struggles he had faced.

Damon took a deep breath, the air filling his lungs as he turned away from the mirror.

He opened the bathroom door, the sound of the party outside filtering in, a stark contrast to the quiet introspection of the bathroom.

He stepped out, his eyes adjusting to the bright lights and laughter.