Broken and Fixed - (Conor McGregor)

Chapter 2

"I am fine, believe me. I was just saving a girl from getting harassed in the bar, but the men beat me up. Thank goodness, a bartender rushed those men away and the girl escaped too. But then, everything became dark for me and I remained unconscious until the bartender woke me up." She gave her statement.

The policeman scribbled everything she had said and then looked at her. "Miss McNair, the doctor told us that you were brought here by Conor McGregor. Who is he to you?"

Her eyes gazed blankly at the police officer. Never had she heard that name, nor did she know who he was, but she immediately guessed that he must have been a gentleman. "I have got no idea who he is but I would like to see him, if it is possible."

"I am afraid that he left after bringing you here. No one except the doctor saw him, but if you are lucky enough, you might meet him again some other time. Then you could thank him." The officer chuckled as he put his notebook in his back pocket and checked his wristwatch. "Anyhow, take care of yourself, Miss McNair."

"Thank you." She smiled upon receiving a grin from him as he left.

She laid back her head on the soft, cloudy pillow but she could not close her eyes because of fear. Her hate for the world was abundant since nothing good seemed to happen to her. As a child, she was bullied at school and as a teenager, she was kicked out of her own house. Being a young adult was even worse because now, she had to look after herself without being dependant on anyone and she was often broke or was fired from every job that she had received. That was not all, whenever she tried to help someone, she would be the one to end up suffering. It was as if everyone was taking an advantage of her and God had sent her as a material to be sacrificed. For her, life was the name of misery, hard work, guilt, a horrible nightmare.

"Anora, how are you feeling now?"

She sat up straight again and watched the doctor walk towards her with a charming grin on his face.

"Quite better." Anora replied.

"Someone is here to see you." The doctor averted his eyes towards the door as it creaked open.

In came a redhead, wearing dark shades which covered his eyes but when he removed them, Anora let out a loud gasp because she recognised him. He was that grumpy man who scoffed at her and told her to move aside, then he had pushed her to walk into the bar.

"Conor brought you here last night. I will leave you two now since I have to look after another patient." Rushing away, the doctor closed the door and left an awkward environment in the room.

Conor and Anora stared at each other. She feared him, whereas he was fearless.

"McGregor." Anora mumbled as she let out a slight chuckle. "Why did you save me?"

"I came to ask the same thing. Why did I save you? I don't even know you." He sat beside her leg.

"What do you mean?"

"Tell me, why did I save you?"

"I don't know."

"Who are you?"

"Anora McNair."

Conor gave a slight nod and then looked at his feet, lost in his thoughts just like a lost bird in the vast sky who could not find his way back. Anora stared at his wondrous features. He was nothing like the men she had seen before. He was different.

"Are you Irish?" She asked, breaking the moment of silence and he escaped his thoughts to look at her.

"Yes, I am an old Irishman. What are you?"

"Spanglish." She let out a chuckle before nervously playing with her fingers. "You look like a busy man."

"I am. I fight for living."

Anora let out another nervous chuckle, and this time, he laughed too.

"No, literally. I fight for living. I am a UFC fighter." He pulled up his arm to show his clear, strong muscle. "I compete in the featherweight and lightweight divisions."

He expected Anora to be impressed but she actually was not impressed. Instead, she was quite confused about everything that he had said, but then it occurred to her that her brother used to watch UFC. Remembering him, she recalled the memory of UFC and finally realised that it was a mixed martial arts promotion company, and that the UFC fighters were arrogant people who only thought about themselves. She just hoped that Conor was not like that.

"Conor, you should have let me die. I don't even like the word 'life' anymore. It's too perplexing." Anora laid back her head and stared up at the ceiling.

He watched her do this in complete silence and pondered over her words for a second before questioning her. "Why?"

"Life has never been good to me, whereas I've always been good towards it. I don't have anyone to care about me. Neither do I have a job nor do I have any money." She let out an anxious sigh.

"You don't have to be good to make your life better. Be carefree, be mean, be arrogant. Why should you care about people who don't even think about you?"

His words seemed so mighty that she was left in awe of them. She found it hard to believe that this man, who had such a great intellect, would give some of his valuable time to such a miserable girl like her.

"Well, it is getting late. I have to get back to what I was doing. Don't expect yourself to see me ever again because you wouldn't find me. But do remember one thing, whatever you do, do not interact with people because that will cause you trouble." He stood up and sauntered towards the door. He looked one more time at Anora and smiled. "Don't give up."