I stared into the dark eyes of my opponent. I wasn’t familiar with this fighter. He was new but I really didn’t give a shit whether I’d fought him before or not. He was about to get his ass beat if my mood was any indication.
We circled one another a couple of times before I finally had enough and lunged in his direction, aiming for his kidneys.
“Fuck!” he bellowed at the direct hit.
“Kidneys,” I growled. “Might want to protect those.” I lunged again as he opened his mouth to respond and landed a right hook to his abdomen. But I was feeling too good with the direct blow because he was able to quickly recover and land a punch to my ribs.
I grunted at the hit, but also felt a renewed sense of calm from the pain that shot through me. I slowed down my movements, and that’s when another blow from my opponent landed to the other side of my ribs. And before I had the chance to recover from that blow, another punch to my belly stole my breath, nearly collapsing me to the floor. Stumbling, I managed to keep on my feet, even when he tried to side swipe my leg. A move I was typically known for in this particular circle.
Fortunately, I didn’t fall to the ground and was able to avoid being taken down by the leg sweep, but the burning from the hits I’d taken continued to sting and reverberate throughout my entire body.
“I was told you were tough shit, Doc. Guess everyone fucking lie—”
I hated the sound of his fucking voice, and made it known that his talking wasn’t appreciated as I landed a spin kick to his side, causing him to stumble backwards. I didn’t wait for him to recover, when I did a leg sweep of my own and then pounced on his body with my legs around the top half of his body. I hurriedly draped his neck in a choke hold and patiently waited for him to realize he had no other choice but to tap the fuck out or pass out. Either one was fine with me.
“Let him up!” I heard Buddy yell from the corner of the ring.
At the same time, I felt a tapping against my leg, alerting me to the fact that he surrendered, conceding my win of this fight.
Satisfied, I pushed out a breath and released him, moving to stand. I didn’t bother to stick around for the cheering or lifting of hands. I won, obviously, and not once did I ever enter into a fight for the purpose of accolades or applause.
Stepping out of the ring, I made a beeline for the changing room where I’d left my bag. As I pushed through the door, the idea of staying for yet another fight appealed to me.
“What the hell was that?”
I spun around as Connor’s angry question was hurled in my direction. Apparently, he’d entered the changing room right behind me. I was so focused on the feeling of satisfaction that came from the pain still coursing through my knuckles and ribs that I hadn’t even noticed.
I narrowed my eyes and tossed him the same angry glare he was giving me. “What the fuck was what?” I didn’t bother waiting for his response as I yanked the wooden locker I’d placed my belongings into open. I quickly jumped back when Connor pushed it shut again, slamming it, nearly catching my goddamned hand in it.
“You know what I’m talking about. You let that fucker almost beat you.”
“He didn’t beat me though, did he?” I growled.
“He came a hell of a lot closer than he should’ve. You purposely let him get those hits in.”
I shook my head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I yanked my locker open, forcing Connor to step back or be slammed in the face by it.
“You’re full of shit.”
“I’m not the only one.”
Connor’s eyes narrowed.
“You think I don’t know guys like Josh and Damon take it easy on me in the ring?” I declared.
His face didn’t even register shock.
“That’s why you request newbies.”
“They don’t softball me.”
“That’s what you think they’re doing?”
“Think?I fucking know! Slow ass punches and leg sweeps they do in the ring with me,” I grumbled the last part as I stuck my head through the grey T-shirt I was changing into.
I ferociously commenced to unwrapping my hands, grunting at the tenderness I felt on my knuckles.
“They’re saving you.”
