LionHeart: A Fighting Story

Prologue

"PROTECT YOUR HEAD!"

Peace.

I think everyone prays for it, but only a few are lucky enough to get it.

The rest of us weren't.

We struggle to find it for the entirety of our lives, only to go to the grave without it.

"WATCH THE HEADKICK!"

For us, Peace is like a mistress, teasing us by being out of our reach. We chase after it just for it always to be one step behind. Peace is like a drug, a drug that everyone wants just to live in ignorant bliss.

"PUSH HIM!"

I'm one of those fools constantly chasing after peace in the darkest of places. I walk into warzones just for that one hit of dopamine for those brief seventeen to thirty minutes. During that time, I am in absolute bliss, absolute peace. Sometimes, I hate it when it ends early. When it ends early, my peace ends early. Then, it's back to the real-

My thoughts were interrupted as the ref crashed in, pushing me off my unconscious opponent. The screams of the small crowd rush back in as I look at all of them. I know all they see me as is a warrior.

A gladiator here to entertain them.

They don't care what happens to me after this match. I could die tonight and they would find a new gladiator to entertain them. I stared them all down as I walked to the center of the ring. My opponent, who finally came back to the realm of consciousness, stood on the other side of the ref; head down in dejection.

"The referee has called a stop to this contest at four minutes and twenty-four seconds in the second round. Your winner, BY KNOCKOUT, NOAH "THE LAST SAMURAI" MURRRRRRRAAAAAYYYY!" The announcer called out as the ref raised my hand in the air, solidifying my victory as I shook my opponent's hand.

Another day, another victim.

That was the only thing on my mind.

My team patted me on the back and gave me congrats and of course, I thanked them, looking towards my coach/best friend after. "You did your thing once again my man. At this point, you'll put the whole country on notice." He declared, smiling as he dapped me up. "Eh, I just did my thing. You know the motto."  He chuckled, putting his arm around my shoulder, and led me out of the ring. "We know it all too well. Another day, another Victim."

We walked through the crowd and there were some cheers and some boos rained down, but I didn't care. Fans are fickle; they will love you one day and then hate you the next. If you live to please them, your soul will die in the process and that is a moral I will die on.

Soon, we left the crowd behind and it was the silence that reign supreme. Other than the sounds of small talk, there was nothing but silence. I hate the silence. The silence is like a cage, suffocating you and forcing you to stay in your mind. If silence was a fighter, he would be the fighter who constantly pressures you until you make a mistake.

The silence persisted as I walked into the locker room and stripped down, one by one from the gloves and tape that adorned my hands to my now bloodied shorts, I stood there bare staring into the mirror.

Scars adorned my body from my chest down, telling a story very few people knew. A story I wasn't too keen on telling. Eventually, I threw on my sweats and tee, packing up my gym bag with my gear as my coach walked in.

"Here ya go, Payout for the night. Unfortunately, it wasn't as high as our usual fights due to it being in the middle of the week, but it's a good payout nonetheless." He handed the money to me and looked to see how much I made on the night.

900 dollars.

Good, that'll get me through the week.

"Thanks, man. It'll do." I said as I placed the money in my bag, sitting it on my shoulder. "You sure you don't need a ride?" he asked as I began walking out of the door. "Nah man, I should make it in time for the last bus. You have a good night." I said as I walked out the door and the arena.

Walking through the city, I looked around at all the people who walked by me. They looked so innocent, going through their lives oblivious to any issues anyone else could have. Sometimes it makes me sick to see people like that, but it's not their fault.

They are just living their lives.

The ride home was silent as always, with the occasional straggler who would get off to go home for the night, but eventually, I made it home, unlocking the door and kicking my shoes off.

I took the money out of my bag and went over to my safebox tucked away. 'Maybe one day I can take fighting seriously.' Adding money to the pot, I tucked it back away before going over to my corner.

There laid a carpet in front of Jesus hanging on the cross. Getting on my knees, I said my nightly prayer, thanking him for everything and praying for continued grace and mercy.

Tiredness took over me as I went to lay in bed and eventually, sleep overtook my body and mind, sending me to restful paradise.