The elevator goes down, and soon she disappears from my sight.
Accompanying Song: “Light ‘Em Up” by Robin Loxley
The wait seems eternal, but the ring finally comes into view. I step out. Cheers are audible from the sidelines. I don’t pay any attention to the guests clapping as they see me walk up. I couldn’t give two shits about who’s watching right now. I just want to get this over with.
I step inside and nod at my opponent then prepare for the fight. Father talks to me from the sideline, giving me more of the same advice he always gives, but I don’t even listen to him. All I can think about is Ella, and how disappointed she is in me.
I don’t want her to give up on me, but that look in her eyes … filled with tears … just cut me like a knife. No wound to my body compares to the pain I feel inside my heart when I see her like that.
When the fight begins, I try hard. I punch and kick, but my muscles don’t seem to apply the same strength they usually do. I can feel my energy waning quickly. Everything around me feels fuzzy. I don’t know why, but I can’t focus.
My face feels hot and bursts with pain after a fist lands right on my cheek. Blood flies everywhere. I bite my lip, and the metallic taste of blood fills my mouth.
None of it matters.
A bell rings.
My opponent pulls back after applying a final kick and pushes me to the ground. Panting, I get up, sweat dripping down my forehead. I barely feel as if I put up a fight. I didn’t. I’m losing because I lost the will to care.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Graham yells.
He made his way up to the ring, and he’s right up in my face right now.
“Are you trying to lose?” he spits.
He’s right. I feel like I am. Maybe I don’t want to win if it means I’ll lose her.
“What’s your problem?” he asks.
“You,” I answer.
He grimaces and growls, “What?”
“You,” I repeat. “You … Ella … Everything.”
“You’re worrying about that now? Win this motherfucking fight.” He slaps me hard on the back. “If you lose, you die, and I am not fucking letting you die, so get to work.”
When he turns his back on me, I growl back, “No.”
He glances over his shoulder, tentatively stopping his tracks and turning around. “What did you say?”
“No.” I stay headstrong, like her.
His nostrils flare, and he stomps toward me, pointing at me with a sneer. “How dare you defy me!”
“She’s unhappy,” I say, remaining steadfast.
“So? What does that girl have anything to do with you fighting to win?” He shoves me with one hand. “I don’t train losers. You win this goddamn fight, hear me?”
“I don’t care.” It’s the truth. I don’t care if I win or lose if I don’t have her smile.
“You want to die?” he asks, grinding his teeth.
“I want her …”
He shakes his head, chuckling. “I can’t believe this.” He sighs. “You won’t fight because she’s mad at you?”
I nod. He knows damn well what he’s done. What he made me do. I refuse to be her enemy.
“What do you want me to do about it, huh?” he snarls.
“Fix … it …” I growl back, not backing down.
His nostrils flare again as he glares at me, contemplating it for a second. “If you’ll win this fight … Fine.”
Grinding my teeth, I reply, “Done.”
I don’t care what it takes. As long as she’s happy again, I’ll bash any motherfucker down that I can find.
Before he walks away, he holds his hand up high in the air, and the bell rings again. My opponent starts closing in, and Father gets out of the ring just before the first punch lands.
I don’t take it to the face this time, though. No, I capture it with my fist then punch him right back in his guts.
He heaves, and I kick him in the jaw, throwing him to the ground.
The men in the seats go wild for me, but some are screaming because their champion is about to go down, and it isn’t me. I’m not willing to stake my life as long as I have her.
She’s my beacon of hope. My sole reason to survive.
I briefly gaze up to the hole in the ceiling through which I know she’s watching. I can see her eyes blink as she stares, frozen, wondering how I know she’s there watching me.
I’ve always known.
I thrive on knowing she’s watching me.
Like a guardian angel from high above.
Smirking at her, I brush the blood off my knuckles and jump on my opponent, ready to strike my final blow. I kick and punch as hard as I can, shoving my fist up his face and stomach until he’s coughing up blood. And even then, I don’t stop. The animal in me has come out in full force, ravaging my enemy until nothing’s left.