The Day Earth Died

20. Blind Match

"I hate that you're doing this again," Amell said while pacing around my locker room.

"You say that every month." I stretched my back, bent downwards, and looked at him through my legs.

"And I'll keep saying it!"

I rose back up, twisting my wrists as the air bubbles in my joints popped.

"Calm down, I'm fine every time."

"What if you lose?" Amell said in a near whimper.

"I've lost before." I shrugged at him and rolled my shoulders back and forth to stretch further.

"But what if you really hurt yourself this time?" He stopped walking and searched my gaze.

"It would hurt me not to fight. I need this, Amell." I looked right into his eyes in hopes he'd finally understand.

"What for? Hit me, all you want." He spread his arms wide and whipped his head back with his eyes shut tight.

I chuckled as I approached him.

"You sure?"

"Go ahead," he choked out, clenching his jaw in apprehension.

I flicked his forehead softly. He grimaced and opened his eyes to give me a frown. I travelled my hand down to his chest, pressing my palm onto the center of his thoracic cage, where his heart beat.

"You have a good heart, Amell. Don't waste it on me," I advised with a small smile and walked away, towards the door to the ring's surrounding rooms.

"What?" he asked.

I chugged down some water along with a red pill and exited the room without answering. The door snapped locked. The room was small and dark, only lit by a dangling light bulb that flickered with buzzes. In front of me, automatic doors were prepared to open once the match began. I looked at the timer on the wall. 2:58:33 PM. Less than 2 minutes left. I secured my gloves on my hands and bumped them together, warming up. If my math is good, this is my 26th match, meaning I'm more than 2 years in. Time is slipping away, isn't it?

I jogged in place while trying to brace myself however I could for my opponent, whoever it would be. Blind Matches were a new crowd pleaser. Two fighters, of sometimes very different skill levels, confront each other in a short 10 minutes match. People blindly bet on either the first or second boxer before the match starts to make it fair because often, from the first second, you already know who's going to win. This was only my second time fighting in those settings and I couldn't have hated it more. Given, I liked a challenge. But a Blind Match wasn't a challenge. Instead, if you were unlucky enough, it was a death wish. No fighter in their right mind would accept one... Unless, of course, they were tasked with killing the governors and happened to know that they never missed a good Blind Match. If I can't see them, I'll simply make them come out by putting my life on the line.

Behind the doors, the crowd thrilled loudly; for the first time in months, they would get the Blind Match they craved for. Only a dozen seconds left. I'm ready for this. I've trained hard. I am ready. I won't let myself down.

The timer buzzed when it finally reached 3:00 PM and allowed the doors to slowly spread open, revealing my opponent. Shit. I'm screwed. Haile. Is he even part of the club? I've never seen him fight before—not that I ever wished to. He squinted his eyes at me with a wide grin, teasing. Haile knew it'd be me. I'm certain. He isn't here to lose. I kept my composure and hardened my expression so he couldn't read through it. But neither am I.

I strolled into the ring confidently even though I crumbled from the inside. The referee quickly summed up the rules as if we didn't know them. For this type of match, the all-in window was the whole fight, no respite. I just have to tough this out. 10, little, minutes. No more, no less. I'm a fine fighter, enough to keep my guard up the whole time and absorb his strikes... Aren't I? The referee's speech neared its end. He jerked his hands up and blew his whistle. The fight is on.