My fighter Man

1

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Ava Morris

My eyes couldn't leave the man who was punching his opponent. Punch after a punch was thrown. Blood was oozing out of their noses. I gulped the lump that formed in my throat. I close my eyes when the man wearing blue boxers falls to the ground from the punch that he has received.

Nothing could be heard except the thrill, excitement and anticipation-filled screams of the people who occupied the place. They waited for the man to stand on his feet. I know what would happen if he stood up on his feet.

"Come on, man! You can do it! Brad! Brad! Kill the fucker!" people were screaming. A cold shiver ran throughout my body when Brad gave a final punch to his rival, sending him into the air. The opposite person fell with a loud thud. I winced when I saw how bad his face and condition looked.

I never wanted to be here, but at the same time, I wanted to be here―Why?

'To see him'

He doesn't know I'm here before his eyes can scan the crowd. I turned back and started walking out, even though it was tough to get out.

People. . . People. . . Everywhere, I tried to get out as fast as I could. I pushed them aside, making my way out. My heart is beating nervously against my rib cage.

His eyes― look so dangerous and deadly that it scares me every time I try to remember his face. I never wanted to see that in his eyes, but fate played differently; that is what I know every time I'm here.

I was able to step out without facing any drunken men. I shiver, standing there in the empty parking area. I pull on my hoodie and keep the mask on. I made my way towards where I parked my mum's car. I drove hers as I don't have my car.

Getting into the car, I close my eyes and inhale heavily. That is what I do. Whenever I'm there to see him. . .

'Brad McCarthy.'

The one I have loved since my teenage years and the one I'm not able to forget. I roll my lower lip into my mouth as I gaze at the people leaving the abandoned stadium. I started the engine to leave the place as soon as possible.

As I drive home, I think about him. The time when he was eighteen years old started playing in my mind.

Brad McCarthy is my brother's best friend. I have known him since my childhood. We hardly had a conversation. He rarely opens up with people or speaks to them. The only person he used to talk to was Vincent. Vincent is my older brother. Though I saw him talking with my mum out of respect, it was limited conversation and words.

I remember the first time I saw him. I was six years old when Vincent took his new friend home. I recollect the memory because my mum showed me the pictures and constantly spoke about the day they met Brad.

Mum and Dad love Brad. They tell me how heartwrenching it was when Brad came home for the first time. They don't know about Brad's parents or his family. All they knew was he was a lonely child.

From then on, he became a part of my family. The main reason why I love my parents is that they have the hearts of angels. I have grown up watching them care for things and helping everyone around them.

They always taught us to look after the people around us who are in pain and in need of comfort. They ensured we understood the value of brotherhood, togetherness, love, money and responsibility.

They always treated my brother's friends as family. In truth, they are family to us. Vincent's friends Axel, Celeb and Brad used to stay and play in our home all day. I used to bring my friends to play house, but they only came for a few hours.

Though they are best friends, Vincent was and is closest to Brad. Brad is the silent and observative one among them. He used to be calm and quiet while others spoke and mingled with everyone. Brad didn't like the idea of socialising. I believe he was nervous about making friends or conversing with others.

As years passed, I became curious about him, and soon, my curiosity became a crush on him. He never knew about it, as I was too shy to talk with him. I always ran away or hid in my room when he was home with others. We have yet to get a chance to speak.

The only time he would ask me was about Vincent. When Vincent was out, he would ask, and I would say, 'I don't know'. He used to nod his head and leave calmly.

He had a callous life, but I don't know about his parents. Vincent has told us that Brad is an orphan. We met him when someone took Brad's responsibility, but they never cared about him. So Mum and Dad took the responsibility, and we became Brad's foster family for the time being.

Even when he stayed with us, sharing Vincent's room, we never ate together or sat together. Axel and Celeb used to play with me or make jokes, but not Brad. I tried to start a conversation with him but was too scared to utter a word.

When he was eighteen years old, he started building his body. He wasn't a lean guy anymore. I used to see scars on his face or a black eye. I was worried about what happened to him.

His knuckles used to bleed. He was hurt all the time. My parents got worried, but he explained that he was learning boxing.

Brad knows mixed martial arts and taekwondo. He has trained for years now. I remember crying for hours when he moved out of our home to his apartment.

I used to be happy seeing and knowing he was safe in our home, but it broke my heart when he moved out. I was not ready to see my crush moving away from me. It was first my heartbreak if you see it that way.

Then, as months passed, he stopped coming home when Vincent moved far away from home to London. I feel sad for my brother. At present, he is in Paris.

I shook my head and looked around. A sigh leaves as I think about the years that have passed. I'm in my third year of college. I will graduate this year but am still determining what to do later.

I halted my car when the signal turned red. I tapped my finger on the steering wheel, thinking about Brad. No one knows I go to shady places to watch Brad fight.

He truly changed. I thought he had changed a lot when I was in senior high school, but looking at him now leaves me in shock.

He has a great body, and sometimes I wonder if he works out too much or because of steroids. But all my doubts cleared when I learned he works out daily and follows a diet. It took years of hard work to get that body, I guess.

My brother and his friends meet every year, no matter what. I know this because Mom said Vincent is in a good mood when he meets the boys. They never came to our home, though.

"Brad doesn't remember you. He doesn't even care if you are crushing on him for years." A voice speaks in my mind.

I ended up at the University of North Carolina. It was lonely over there, and I wanted a change. I decided to live in the college dorms. My parents weren't happy with the decision, but they didn't disagree with it. They agreed if I came home on weekends, and I didn't have a problem with that.

I halted the car and carefully parked it in the driveway as I considered my decision. I have decided not to go to any of the fights, this being the last one. I chose not to think about Brad as it would never happen.

He is a dream that will never happen, even when I want him to be mine.