The Fighter (Ziall Horlik)AU M-preg

Chapter 2

"Get up!" I yelled at him. The large man looked at me as he staggered to his feet. He came at me and hit me pretty hard in the face, making me back up to protect myself. I just returned his action, but continued to also block his shots.

I was getting tired and my muscles started feeling like they were made of bricks. I hadn't even been fighting that long, but something about this just made me more tired. Maybe he was the gloves or the fact that I was fighting someone that has training in this weird sport. Either way I wanted it to be over so I swung my fist to his face on one side and begin attacking his stomach with hits. He lost his balance and fell to the floor but this time, I heard a light roar of people counting down from ten to one then it was over.

I looked around and saw every single person in here with a look of shock or amusement on their face. I just walked over to where the man I had met last night was watching on the other side of the ropes and looked at him for what he thought. All I know is I'm now completely drenched in sweat and trying to catch my breath like I had just ran seven miles.

"What's your name, lad?" He asked me as he helped me get my gloves off. He handed me a water bottle once one of my hands were free, then climbed in the ring with me.

"Zayn Malik. You never told me yours. Your business card doesn't have your name on it either." I said in return. He laughed at me lightly and gestured with his hands around the room that people were now getting back to their own work outs instead of watching me.

"I own this place. I coach everyone here. I'm Mark Jarvis, so my name is on the business card. Anyway, I'm putting an offer on the table for you and you only. I'll train you until you're good enough for actual matches. You have this unique thing about you that you're a natural fighter. You go to the balls of your feet naturally, then the way you never ever thought of throwing a hit somewhere unfair is also incredible. I'm taking a chance on you here because I'm not sure if you fought out of anger or just because you naturally fight, but I see a boxer in you. You're body is thin, making it easier for you to dodge. Yet at the same time, you're made of pure muscle. You're a natural boxer. I believe in you that if you work hard enough, you will go far." The man named Mark told me. I took a step back from him to process all he said to me.

"I don't have money to pay you for this and I don't really think I'm good enough for you to waste your time on." I told him quietly. That just caused the man to grab my chin in his strong, rough hands so I was forced to look him in the eyes.

"Self-confidence is the biggest defense you can have in the ring. Last night you knew what Liam Payne had to do to win his match. Just now you proved you can out your words into actions. What do you want more than anything in your life?" He asked me seriously as he let go of my chin. I didn't break eye contact with the man as I spoke.

"I want to get out of Bradford." I said quietly. He smiled at me and leaned down the get the two boxing gloves from the floor and show them to me. I got the leather gloves in my hands and looked over them.

"This could be your way out. I don't need an answer now, just think about it and come back here tomorrow if you have an answer. Even if you say no, just know you're good enough as a person. I may not know you, but I know you need know you can do things with your life other than be a flirtatious bar tender." Mark told me, then pat me on the shoulder before leaving me standing there. I took a minute there to think over his words and realize that's the first time anyone had ever told me I was good enough.

I went and changed back into my skinny jeans and put my shirt back on, but when I tried to give that guy back his shorts he said I'd need them when I come back to train some more. I guess everyone here thinks I'm a boxer. The funny thing is, I'm nothing more than a street fighter. So with that thought, I left the training center and walked back down to my flat so I could shower again because know I was a fucking sweaty mess. But, the whole way I thought if maybe, just maybe, I could get out of here by doing what I've been doing while living here.

I stayed at home for a while after, just relaxing and taking a minute to th I no before I went down to work. The man I beat up yesterday only gave me a hard look as I walked past him, but his swollen nose made him look comical. But it didn't dare to laugh because I had already fought all I had in me this morning. I had nothing left in me to fight for so now I was just hoping to keep things cool.

As I worked for a few hours doing the same thing I do every night, I heard a few girls talking about something that got a few people's attention. I went over there and served them some drinks and heard a little of their conversation about someone new moving here recently. Honestly, the first thought that popped in my head was why in the fuck would you move to Bradford. There's nothing here but violence and poverty.

"I've seen him, he's kind of cute. He's been moving a few boxes from his car to his new flat down the hall from me. I tired to say hi to him, but he just gave me a sad smile and kept going on with moving. He has a car though, so that means he has money of some sort." I overheard one of the girls say as I slid another drink to her friend. All I did as I walked away to another person that needed me was send a silent prayer that that new person would get out of Bradford while he has the chance. There's no way out of here, and I hope he knows that now that he's made the strange decision to make this place his home.

A/N: ooooo!!!! So I'm tired and stuff, but I wanted to update so here this is! I'm going to start questions again!!! Yay! If you had to live without one of your five senses (smell, sight, hearing, taste, touch), which would it be?!??!? Comment / Vote!
- Bri;)