Sold on The Bad Times [H.S]

Prologue

Prologue:

H A R R Y

I stood across from him — my opponent. He was the holder of the Dead Weight Championship belt, the belt I needed to jumpstart my career in underground fighting. We both waited until the bell rung before taking a swing at each other. He swung first and I caught his fist from hitting my face. He caught my leg from going low. We were tied from the beginning. After back and forth swings and misses, I felt blood trickling down my nose. He hit me a second time, and I didn't feel a thing with my adrenaline pumping like a maniac. I don't think I felt anything until the third or fourth hit when everything went blurry. I stumbled backwards up against the wall, arms out, begging for a break. I wasn't sure what was going on with me, but it seemed that I just couldn't hang with the big dogs, at least not anymore.

About a few minutes later, I was on my weakened knees covered in sweat, blood, and tears. I kept begging him to hit me. It was quite depressing to the public eye. In the corner of my eye I saw my girlfriend, Joelle, silently praying for me to just give up. It must've been horrifying for her to see, but of course, I didn't care. I kept begging Zayn to hit me, but he gave up, and rightfully so. I would've given up too if my opponent looked like I did. The referee called it and I was left on the losing end, again.

Joelle ran to my aid. "Baby," She knelt down to my level and hugged me tightly, her tears fell down her beautiful, melanin cheek — she was honestly the most beautiful and sweetest woman in my life. "Please, you need to see a doctor." I shook her off and got up from my knees.

"Harry..."

I think my biggest mistake that night was walking away from her when all she was trying to do was help and comfort me. I couldn't do it. I couldn't look her in the eye after losing the biggest match in my career.

But it was too late.