My opponents' fist slammed into my face and I staggered slightly to the left, blood spurting from the cut above my eyebrow that had come with her previous blow. She had already gotten in too many hits; I was distracted and I had only come here to get my mind off of the grim prognosis that He had been given earlier.
Years ago when he had first found me fighting he was pissed. He tried to get me to stop fighting, begged me to in fact. But I wouldn't, or maybe it was that I couldn't. I had never had control over anything before in my life, but when I fought I did. I could anticipate my opponent's moves, know just by their body language when they would strike and where. Hell I could even detect by the way that they moved if they had any injuries. Where those injuries were and how bad they were is what really helped me win my fights though. Because when you're injured you become weak and vulnerable.
One fight I had gotten into my opponent had outweighed me by at least 100 pounds, that and she had had no injuries (and I had a couple fractured ribs) and she was hard to read. Nine out of ten fighters had little tells, some leaned before they attacked. While others stepped just slightly forward, some you just had to watch their eyes to tell when they would strike. The girl I fought however didn't have any of these tells she was ice cold and she was a really nasty fighter. I didn't even physically walk away from that fight. She had knocked me out cold.
I had woken up two days later to him leaning over me looking furious. He had carried me out of that fight, and I hadn't even known he was there in the first place. When he saw I was awake he stepped back and started pacing. As I tried to sit up a splitting pain shot through my head and I groaned, clutching my head. He momentarily stopped pacing to look at me glared at me and returned to his pacing.
That was when I knew he was mad. I laid back down and waited for him to start giving me shit, as I knew he was getting ready to do. When he started speaking his voice was low and furious. "You have six broken ribs and three fractured ones. A major concussion, and eighteen stiches. Eight on your forehead and the other ten scattered across your knuckles which by the way are bruised black and purple and now have stitches."
I didn't say anything because I had a feeling he wasn't quite finished. He spun around and glared at me again. "Well?" he asked "Don't you have anything to say for yourself?"
I sat up more slowly this time and succeeded with a little less pain through my head this time. My ribs ached and twinged but the pain was manageable. I started to speak but had to cough to clear my throat and even when I did start talking my voice was hoarse from disuse. "Do you think you could get me a glass of water, my throat hurts?"
He stared at me in disbelief before he growled low in his throat whirled around and stomped toward the kitchen. When he came back into the room he had a glass of water in his hand that he promptly shoved at me with a couple of Advil. "Thanks," I mumbled and downed the pills and water in one gulp.
"What were you thinking Anna? That girl was twice your size and one cold bitch. Do you even have any idea how close she came to killing you?" I opened my mouth to respond and tell him that he was being overly dramatic but he held up a hand to stop me.
"She hit you so hard that you were unconscious before you even hit the ground. Then you stayed unconscious for two days. Two days! If it wasn't for the fact that I promised never to take you to the hospital I would have dragged your unconscious ass there, and I almost did despite my promise! You scared the shit out of me Anna and I won't do it anymore. Either you stop fighting or I leave, I can't stay around and watch as you do this to yourself."
He looked at me expectantly and I knew he was waiting for an answer. But I was still processing what he had said, it had honestly never occurred to me that he would leave. I mean he was my guardian angel and they didn't just up and leave.
Of course by the time that had sunk in he was still waiting for an answer that I wasn't sure I could give him. Could I give up fighting? Could I give up the one thing that gave me control? I wasn't sure that I could even for him the man that patched me up after the fights the one who gave me heck for even fighting in the first place. But he was also the only one who cared and I hadn't had that in a long time. Come to think of it I couldn't remember if I had ever had that.
"I'll stop fighting." By the time I had made up my mind he was already walking towards the door, ready to walk out of my life forever. When he heard my words though he stopped dead in his tracks. He slowly turned around and as if he thought I would change my mind bolted towards me and wrapped me in his arms. I stood there uncomfortably and let him hug me. While he was relieved I was still wondering what it was that I was going to do? With him yes but mostly with myself.
So you see of course I promised him I wouldn't fight again and I had kept that promise for exactly six months, one week, two days, and eighteen hours. Until he told me that he had only a few days to live. That right there pushed me over the edge so far that I was breaking my promise to the only person I cared about.
For the first time ever I was actually worried that I wouldn't be winning this fight. Aside from the fight with the stone cold girl that knocked me unconscious for two days I had never worried about whether I would win the fight or not. I was worried now though. As I said due to my being distracted she had already gotten in too many hits and I was weakening. Fast.
Besides the cut above my eyebrow I had a swollen lip a couple of fractured ribs and my left eye was throbbing and most likely black. All in all I had definitely been through tougher fights with worse injuries but this fight was different. I was distracted yes but that wasn't the only reason that I was losing, I was losing because I realized that I wanted to lose. I wanted to be knocked unconscious and escape to sweet oblivion even if just for a little while. I knew that he would be disappointed in me and even as I let my opponent get another hit I knew that. Knew the sad look that would come into his eyes knew that the pain I was in would hurt him too. And then in turn seeing him hurting would hurt me again. We were both such a mess.
I saw her fist coming towards my head even had enough time to stop it if I had wanted to. I laughed without humor to myself. I didn't want to stop it so I pretended to block her hit. And welcomed it when her fist connected with my head. There was a moment when I felt pain and then nothing, just lovely oblivion.
The last thought I had was that He wouldn't be there to pick me up and make sure I didn't just get left on the ground. I had a second to think that maybe I hadn't thought this through completely.
