Loving Jason

Bonus Chapter

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Chapter 1&2 (this is a combination of chapters 1 and 2 in Jason's point of view! I thought you might be curious to know what the hell was going on in his head ;))

JASON

If I believed in god, I would have said something along the lines of 'for God's sake' in the next minute. But we all knew that I had no religion and there wasn't any other religious crap that I believed in. I did what I wanted, when I wanted and no body could tell me shit. I was probably going to hell for that, which my subconscious reminded me that a small part of me did believe in that religion crap if I believed in hell. Whatever.

My fists were bloody from the street fight that I partook in just a few minutes ago. I was leading ahead in number of wins and I beat the too proud guy out of his mystery by four to zero wins. I was that good, and I felt the need to boast about it by flashing the crowd my infamous smirk of joy. Or rather, mysery.

My opponents name was Jonas, and me being the kind and considerate person I was, I gave him time to maintain his breath before our next and final round. I won him already three fights ago, but he was too stubborn to back down. I would have knocked him unconscious by now if it weren't the fact that I might have admired his stubbornness and unwillingness to give up, and take his beating like a man instead. His punches were sloppy, his kicks weak, his aim incorrect and he had no idea how to maintain his energy. He had zero rights to call himself a trained fighter.

For me, it had always been about a combination of skills that lead to my ultimate success. Strength was part of fighting, but only a minor part. Any weak person could beat you in a fight if they knew what they were doing. I had the strength and the skills, which rendered me unstoppable amongst what was supposed to be some of the best fighters in the gang life.

I've been beaten many times in my life already, mostly when I was an arrogant teenager with an ego the size of Jupiter. Those were my more reckless days where I took way more risks and did so much more exciting things like street racing. There was no time now for fun and activities, and I had to really squeeze these things into my schedule. People thought that being a gang leader meant going around dealing drugs and shooting people for absolutely no fucking reason. People were wrong, it was so much more than that and it meant everything to me. I couldn't live without it, I would be a nobody if I did.

"Who the fuck did that moron think he is? Did he not get the message that he was going to lose?" I heard Derek's voice from besides me and turned to look at him.

"He's stubborn." I said simply, wrapping my hands up in white bandages. If I didn't have as much pride as I did, I would admit that my fists where aching. But my learned response was to ignore the pain, and as years passed by the concept got much easier.

My father used to train Ace and I nearly every day of my childhood. Gangs and mafia were a big thing to us and we always had to be prepared for the worst. He would lock us up in the mansion's basement, and leave us with one tool to use and try to get out. At first if took me days to find a plan, but now, I could break out of a confined space in a few minutes. As long as it was possible to break out of, I could. I used to hate him so much, but I now undersood his methods. I believed that you couldn't make someone strong and build them up without breaking them first.

I wouldn't be the man I turned out to be today if it weren't for him. I could picture my mother frowning from her grave at me, obviously not pleased by my actions. She and my father never agreed on how to raise me and my siblings. But she was gone now, so it didn't really matter.

I was currently in our gangs privately owned gym, where we trained regularly, bandaging up my fists that connected so many times with the stubborn morons bones. I had to admit I was surprised when he got me once in the ribs, although it didn't hurt as much as it damaged my fucked up ego somehow.