Trial And Error

Chapter Twenty-Three

Kian's POV

Lost in anger, she threw wild punches, defenses forgotten. Weeks had passed since the blowout with Madison, but Kian still felt its aftermath consuming her. She filled her days with mindless workouts, sparing, and drinking to keep the demons at bay. It was unhealthy, but she was past caring. Her only lifeline was gone.

"Keep those hands up, Kian!" Her coach instructed from her corner, but she paid him no attention.

In the ring, her sparring partner ruthlessly exploited each opening in Kian's rage-fueled attacks. Punch after punch slipped through, snapping her head back. But Kian embraced the blows, letting pain anchor her in the present moment. With every punch she found a fleeting escape from the memories threatening to drag her under.

Kian's prowess in the ring was renowned at the gym - her years of experience evident in her skill. Most fighters clamored to train alongside her, though avoided sparring to protect their egos. But lately, her technique had grown reckless and sloppy, aggression overriding ability. Everyone noticed the changes in her, how off her boxing had become.

Her current opponent was relentless, landing punishing combinations. He matched Kian in height and stature, making it an even matchup. Though he lacked her skill, his focus allowed him to stand his ground against Kian's deteriorating form.

Kian managed to slip away, creating distance with a few haphazard jabs. But there was no strategy behind her movements anymore—just raw, flailing energy. She knew she was fighting sloppily, but the catharsis of violence was the only outlet for her rage.

Finally, a blow landed clean on her jaw, sending Kian crashing to the canvas. She laid there dazed, the metallic taste of blood in her mouth. The crowd that had gathered to watch the fighter now murmured with concern and disappointment. Kian spit out her mouthguard, chest heaving with exertion and frustration. Her passion for the sport that once anchored her now slipped through her fingers.

Her sparring partner reached out his hand to help Kian up, which she accepted with a quiet thanks. He apologized profusely for the blow that floored her.

Kian simply shook her head, dismissing his need to make amends. The fault was hers - the careless mistakes, the undisciplined technique. She was losing her edge along with herself. The small crowd dispersed, buzzing about the shocking upset they'd witnessed. Kian ignored them, focusing only on putting one foot in front of the other as she shuffled to a nearby bench where her gear was.

Kian removed her gloves and hydrated trying to clear her blurred vision and aching head. She'd been dropped before - multiple times in fact - but this time felt different. In the past she was determined to recover. Now she almost felt deserving of the blow.

"Should you be fighting, LT? With the brain surgery and all?" a familiar voice questioned with a hint of humor and worry.

Kian tensed, a voice she hadn't heard since her hospital days. She turned to see Murray standing there looking recovered from his minor injuries in the ambush.

"It's good to see you, Murray," she said, pushing down the unease in her stomach.

Kian got up firmly shaking her friend's hand while they both occupied the bench once again.

"How did you know I was here?"

"People talk, especially Marines. I asked around and wanted to check up on you, with you not answering my calls I thought I'd stop by in person."

Kian visibly grimaced, "Sorry about that, I haven't been in the mood to talk to anyone lately."

"I could tell, with your performance in the ring and all. I'm sure you've been getting this a lot but I just thought I'd ask. How are you doing?"