The MMA world is very competitive and not only in the cage. A guy and girl, from two rival families, fall for each other just like a modern day Romeo and Juliet. Will they have a fighting chance to make a relationship work? Or will it end in complet...
Waking up in the hospital after I was jumped was a little scary. I hate hospitals & I was afraid of the damage that had been done to me. I was afraid that I'd never fight again. I was afraid that maybe I'd have to forfeit my fight in Vegas. I looked down at my legs, my prized possession in the cage & was relieved neither were in casts. My left leg did have a pretty sturdy, metal, brace on it. My right arm was in a sling, but I could move it. I felt a pain in my chest, though, when I moved it, so I stopped doing that.
I saw my phone on the rolling tray beside my bed, so I grabbed it. I saw it was the next day, after I was jumped in the alley. I remembered some of the details from that night, probably because my head was hurting reminding me that I had been kicked in the head. I reached up & felt the wound. It felt like there were stitches, but I wasn't positive. I'd have to check in the mirror when I got a chance. I scrolled through my phone, then realized my screen was cracked. Sons of bitches. Fuck. These bastards are fucking lucky I had insurance on my phone.
The door to my room opened & I saw Jay stroll in, carrying a bag from In-N-Out Burger. I smiled, then winced from the pain that caused. I felt my mouth & one of my lips was swollen & there was a scab. Fucking assholes. I remembered hitting the ground with my face.
"You're awake. Now you can eat the burger I got you." Jay said coming to stand beside the bed next to the tray. He started pulling food out, grinning. "How you feeling?"
"Like someone jumped me." I muttered, grabbing the burger he was handing me.
"Sorry." Jay shrugged & then got a serious look on his face.
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"What kind of injuries do I have?"
"Couple cracked ribs. Fractured patella. Concussion & your face looks like you hit a wall." Jay sat in the chair & put his feet up on the tray.
"What about my the event in September? Can I still fight?" I asked, worry in my voice.
"The doctor said you would have to stay off your leg for six to eight weeks & he knows you're a fighter, so he wants you to start therapy as early as next week, so you can stay on top of your training. You'll just have to work on everything else until you can work on the leg. The brace on your knee is acting as a splint, keeping your leg as straight as possible so it can heal." Jay spoke with his mouth full, but I understood him. He never cared that he had food in his mouth, so I was used to it. "As long as you keep doing your therapy the doc said you should be able to still fight in four months. But he does want to keep an eye on ya & he'll keep close contact with your therapist. I'm pretty confident you'll be fine by then."
"Did they catch the fuckers who did this?"
Jay's face, once again, clouded with a seriousness as he sat up & laid his burger on the tray. "Not yet. But I have a theory." Jay stood up & put his hands on his hips. "I think it was a personal attack. They went straight for your legs, man. I think they were trying to take you out."
