The Fight

I pulled my hair back into a ponytail. I tightened the gloves I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I bounced swiftly from foot to foot shaking out my arms, focusing.

“You’re not coming?” he asked looking at me up and down. I wore a pair of sweats and a t-shirt with no makeup. He, however, was dressed in his best partying clothes.

The light played off his eyes as he watched me intently, longing for the first strike. The lights were low as we circled the ring. He advanced and I ducked quickly and jumped to the side.

“No,” I answered, feeling self-conscious. All eyes focused on us as I shifted my weight nervously, feeling the intensity in the air.

“Why not?” he asked sliding his hands in his pockets in the cocky, superior way he always did.

He advanced again, trying to break me. But I jumped back avoiding a kick.

“Because going to the club is not my thing!” I answered confidently. I glanced over at the six other people standing in the room, knowing this conversation was going downhill fast.

“Well, that’s dumb!” he snapped. I looked at him, hurt by his bluntness.

He came at me from the side, nicking my arm. I fell back slightly.

“That’s dumb?” I asked.

He backed off and I bounced back quickly, hoping to get the next hit. But he was too quick.

“Yeah! You’re so antisocial!” he spat. I straightened and looked at him. The room got quiet and completely still. Still like it only gets before a big storm.

He advanced again, kicking me hard in the stomach. I grunted as I fell back into the rope.

“This is my choice!” I snapped back. He too straightened and looked hard into my eyes.

Hair fell into my eyes as I looked up, wincing in pain. No one was there to watch. It was merely a way to battle, a way to get out years of anger built up.  I pushed myself off and straightened.

“You’re wasting your life!” he nearly yelled. I fought hard to keep tears from exploding.

Unfocused from the last hit, he hit me hard across the face. I fell hard onto the mat; pain was seeping into every inch of my body.

“I’m wasting my life?” I asked just as loudly. It now made no matter that there were other people in the room. He was attacking me. A close friend of eight years was attacking who I was and what I was doing.

I forced myself to forget all the pain that was fighting hard to keep me down, and pulled myself off the mat quickly. I stumbled as I stood, trying to regain the ground I had already lost. He was quick and had a goal.  

“Yeah! You’re doing nothing with your life!” he said getting louder, and crossing his arms. He stared me down like a vulture to its prey.

Before I knew what was happening, a swift kick sent me flying across the ring. I hit the mat hard, tasting blood.  

“By not wanting to go to a club and let some guy feel me up means I’m wasting and doing nothing with my life?” I snapped back, wanting this to end. Wishing he would go away, that they all would just go away. Wishing I was somewhere else.

I pushed myself up slowly and turned to face him. He stared me down just as fierce as I felt. I was not weak and nor would I let someone take me down.

“You don’t have to let some guy feel you up!” he said, wavering in his argument,

He came towards me again. He aimed a left jab at me, but I ducked. I jumped back, waiting for the next shot he had. All I had to do was regain the offensive.

“Not the point!” I said, feeling less weak than when he was pulling me down.

I moved quickly and a sudden jab caused him to falter. I was ready now.

“All you ever do is sit around here all by yourself, feeling sorry for yourself!” he said, hoping to get that sense of power back.

He started towards me again but before he could hit me, I moved avoiding another hit. I was starting to feel powerful. I was starting to feel stronger. He was moving slowly. He was losing ground by spending all his energy too quickly.

“What I choose to do is what I choose to do!” I said.

As he tried to refocus, I moved to him and got him in the stomach. He groaned as he fell back. I kept my eyes on him, just waiting.

“And you have no right to come into my room and talk to me like that!” I added louder.

I hit him, again, across the face while he was still trying to regain his ground. I put my weight into my hit and he spun, falling to his knees. I was not going to be weak. I was not going to give up.

“I can talk to you however you want!” he said moving towards the door, knowing that this wasn’t something he was going to win. I followed him.

He recovered and started back towards me. He ran at me but I moved quickly and he just hit the other side. I continued to keep my eyes on him.

“Just get out!” I said loudly. He opened the door and looked back at me.

He straightened in the ring and stared back into my eyes. He knew this was over. I had the upper hand. I was not going to lose. I was not going to give up. He had nothing left in him but one more swing. He started towards me and I kept my eyes on him. He kept moving towards me. I was just waiting for him to strike.

“You are just going to wake up one morning, full of regret of the things you didn’t do!” he snapped staring into my eyes.

Before he could hit me again, I struck like an eagle. With all my might I threw myself into my hit. By shock and pain, he looked at me before falling down at my feet. He laid there, motionless. I took a deep breath and stared back at him, knowing I had won. I hadn’t given up. I took my gloves off and dropped them on the mat by his head then turned and walked out of the ring. That was all that I needed and I was done.