Hey guys! Don't worry, Holden and Tatum are not quite over yet. I'm about to leave on a trip for Los Angeles but KNOCKOUT is coming soon to Wattpad!! How exciting. Because I'm me and I have all the rights to everything, I'm going to post a snippet of the first chapter of KNOCKOUT below. Remember to vote and leave comments if you enjoy the story.
KNOCKOUT, part of chapter one:
White walls encase me as I inhale the scent of cleaning supplies. The sound of a cart rolling across the speckled tile alerts me, the loud jangling of sterile suture kits rattling as the cart shifts throughout the hospital. I can hear the wheels every time they make a full rotation, and I keep listening until the sound is carried away two elevator dings later.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
It's been a week, and the only time I've left this chair has been to go to the bathroom. I'm still dressed in leggings and the bloodstained shirt that bares my nickname on the back and his face on the front. His wide smile with his dimpled cheeks, curls spilling over that ridiculous bandana he insists on wearing to keep his hair out of his beautiful, emerald eyes.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
When I look at him now, his face is a blank mask. It looks like him, but at the same time, it doesn't resemble him at all. Instead of his cocky smirk and bright eyes, his face remains dull and lifeless, like he's already gone and his body is only here for its final goodbye. And while I know that isn't necessarily the case, the past week has been full of tears, stress, and heartache.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
I thought I had known heartbreak. I thought I had experienced my heart shattering in full when I watched Eli aim the gun, a perfect shot straight into my mother's skull. While that put a strain on my heart, I've recently realized that I've never truly experienced my heart breaking. Until now. A heart cannot break unless it loves completely and purely, and he is the only one I have ever found that with.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
What I know is that a heart doesn't just break, it doesn't shatter into a million little pieces expecting to be put back together right away. Instead, tiny shards of the heart break off, one at a time, slowly chipping away at the whole. The problem is when the heart has become so small and there are no more pieces to scrape away. And that's it. That tiny little fragment is all that's left; when that splits, the heartbreak begins. And instead of picking up all the pieces and making the heart whole again, all that's needed for the heart to heal are those last two shreds. The hard part is finding them ⎯ it's like two needles in a haystack.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
I shift my gaze from Holden to the monitor, my eyes intently following his strong heartbeat. Although the constant noise from the machine can get irritating, the beeps indicate that his heart is working on its own, and right now, it's the most beautiful sound I could ever imagine.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
"Please wake up," My voice is quiet, a gentle whisper. I can't bring myself to talk any louder; all I can make myself do at this point is beg. Beg him to come back to me. Beg him to fight.
"Do you want him to see you like this when he wakes up?" The voice travels across the spacious room, the high-pitched tone making my ears itch.
Amelia continues speaking, not ecstatic about my lack of response, "Seriously, Tatum. You look like you just rolled out of a bin, and you're stained with blood."
"I don't care what I look like, I just want him to wake up."
Her shoes click against the floor as she walks toward me, but I keep my eyes centered on Holden. I know my own pain; I don't want to see hers, too.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
"How do you think the rest of us feel? He's my son, Tatum. I gave birth to him, watched as he started to grow crooked teeth, forced him into braces, watched him grow into a man. That's my baby." She takes a deep breath before continuing, obviously frustrated. "We all want him to wake up. We all plan on it. He may be stuck in a bed right now, but you're not. Get your arse up and keep living your life like the rest of us, that's what Holden would want."
I'm silent.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
I know what Holden would want, but leaving is like admitting defeat. If I leave, it feels like giving up, like giving him a reason to let go. To stop fighting.
The click of Amelia's shoes sounds again and I know she's walking away. Almost everybody, Alex, Zain, Nathan, and Landon, his whole team, has given me the same speech to no avail.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
"Up," a loud voice orders me, resonating throughout the room.
"I'm not leaving." My words are quiet, but firm.
I hear the long sigh before I hear the stomping. I don't have to turn my head to know it's Isabella. Out of everyone, she's probably the most distraught by my immobility.
"And I'm not my mother, so I will drag you out of this damn room if I have to."
My hand reaches out to grab Holden's, lacing our fingers together. I miss the feeling of his warm touch, and how his thumb would trace small circles on the back of my hand whenever he got the chance. Holden's hands are massive ⎯ they practically swallow my own; I wouldn't change that for the world.
I feel Isabella's presence hovering over me, and I just barely shoot a glance at her. Her face is flushed, but I try not to stare at her for too long. Instead, I shift my eyes back to Holden's monitor, ensuring the heartbeat is still as it should be.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
Isabella's hand grips my arm and I tighten my hand around Holden's. If I knew he was going to be okay, things would be different. But I don't. Even the doctor can't figure out why Holden hasn't woken up yet. The day we came in here, Dr. Ramsay gave us hope.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
When the ambulance took Holden away from the arena, I scrambled to get into Holden's Range Rover, barely able to put the key in due to the never-ending stream of tears rolling down my cheeks. I sped, I ran red lights, I went past stop signs ⎯ everything. All I could think about was how I had to get back to him, how I had to keep reminding him to fight.
I remember arriving to the hospital, yelling at a nurse to direct me toward Holden, and finding him peacefully laying in his bed, a weak smile on his face and his eyes cracked open, following my every movement. There were doctors and nurses scattered throughout the room, some stitching him up and some simply observing, but I ignored them and ran to his side. He was injured and he was in pain, but he was there. My Holden was there and he was looking at me; I had never felt more relieved.
"How are you feeling?" I ask him, trying to remove the tears from my eyes.
He widens his smile, displaying his adorable dimple, and that's when I know everything is going to be okay. "I've definitely been better, but I'm surviving. The doctors are taking pretty good care of me."
Holden's large hand grips mine and he brings it up to his mouth, placing a gentle kiss on my palm before setting my hand to rest on the side of his face. I open my mouth to speak to him, but Dr. Ramsay cuts me off.
"All of Holden's vitals are fine. We've replenished the blood he lost from the wound, but he should be okay to return home in just a few days. Of course, he's going to be out of boxing for a while, but we're hopeful that he'll be able to continue his career without any repercussions. And that'll be his weak spot, so he'll have to be capable of heavily protecting it if he does decide to continue boxing." Dr. Ramsay smiles at us before checking off something from one of the various papers on his clipboard.
"So everything is okay?" I ask.
He puts his clipboard to his side, nodding once. "Apart from a bit of pain, Mr. Samuels is perfectly fine."
Dr. Ramsay walks out, motioning to all the other medical practitioners to follow him and to give Holden and I alone time together. My heart is practically beating out of my chest, but it feels as if a weight on my shoulders has been lifted.
"I'm sorry," Holden's husky accent travels up to me and my eyebrows furrow in confusion.
"What are you sorry about?"
He sighs, "I know how painful seeing your brother was, but I chose to fight him anyway and got myself hurt in the process. That had to have been terrifying for you."
Holden places his hand over mine, cradling his face. "H, you have nothing to be sorry about. It was a career move and I get that. All I care about now is that you're okay."
"I can take some pain," Holden shrugs.
"I know, Samuels, I know."
A silence falls over us, me staring at Holden, reveling in the fact that he's okay. I can feel Holden's eyes flit around, searching my face for a sign that something's wrong. Even after everything, he always puts my concerns and me over his own.
"I love you," he whispers to me.
I lean down, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead, "And I love you, Holden."
My hand falls away from his face as I move to grab the small, black chair sitting in the corner of the room. After dragging the object over to the side of his bed, I sit, taking his hand in mine.
"Do you need anything?" Just by looking at him, I can tell he's sleepy. They've doped him up on pain medications and it's probably taking everything he has not to fall asleep. He's staying awake for me.
"Could you maybe get me some water, baby? My mouth feels really dry."
I nod, "I'll be right back."
When I did come back with his water, he was already asleep. I set the glass on the table beside him, and the rest of his team walked in. I had told them what Dr. Ramsay said and they informed me that they had called Holden's family. Although the events of the night were terrifying, it seemed like everything would turn out fine.
But Holden hasn't woken up.
"Get up, Tatum." Isabella brings me back to the present and I can feel a tear slip down my face, taking my arm from her grasp so I can erase its existence.
"Why should I?"
"Because what if he never wakes up? What are you going to do then? Are you going to stop going to work, stop training, stop living? Sitting in a hospital chair next to his bed is not living." Her hand wraps around my arm again and I feel my resolve breaking. As much as I don't want to leave his side, I know Isabella won't stop until she gets what she wants.
"He's going to wake up," I mutter.
"And what if he doesn't, Tatum? You can't keep doing this, and Holden would kill all of us if he knew we were letting you sit here and sulk."
I don't respond.
"What about Elliot Samson, huh? The doctors found internal bleeding after Holden slipped into this coma and you're just going to let the culprit do whatever he wants? You're going to let him get away with putting Holden through this? What if he does it to somebody else?"
At the mention of Eli, I tense up. He took away my mother, he took away my childhood, and now he might have taken away my Holden.
"Up," she says. My vision has gone red thinking about Eli and I allow my hand to slip through Holden's as Isabella hoists me out of the plastic chair. I keep my eyes on Holden as she drags me out of the room, my feet carrying me backwards, and I can't help but feel like that's the last time I'll feel his touch.
Beep. Beep. Beep.