My fighter Man

7

Brad McCarthy

"Why don't you buy a big house, man? You already have a million dollars in your bank account," Mack said while pushing the empty box away.

"I bought this apartment with my hard-earned money. Those millions which I have are from illegal fights," I said, taking the empty box.

"But you won the fights and got the money. Isn't it hard-earned? I mean you busted your face and broke a bone or two in those fights," Mack said in confusion.

"I'm comfortable here and it's not that someone is going to stay with me. It's just me." I looked at my apartment. It isn't in good condition but I'm comfortable here.

"Hmm, any way you would be sleeping in the gym or in the car. Why would you need a house?" He nodded his head, looking around.

I eat the chips while looking at the television blankly. There isn't much in the apartment; one bed in the bedroom and two or three utensils in the kitchen. Two chairs to sit on in the living room. I bought this apartment one year ago.

The previous owner didn't like it when I came home with cuts and bruises. I didn't like it when he used to yell and shout. So I got a small one-bedroom apartment which is suitable for me. I never felt like decorating the whole place.

"You should at least get cupboards. There isn't space on the bed," Mack said.

"Hmm."

"Bro I'm telling you, just go through the internet and find an interior designer who will be decorating the whole place. They are fucking good and these days small apartments are the trend."

I looked at him while he looked around. "You just need to find a good one for your budget and the job is done. You don't have a fucking thing in this apartment. Look at the walls and everything... It's fucking empty and depressing."

I look around and see that the walls are cold and plain. They are in need of paint, the floor has to be cleaned, the kitchen has to be taken care of and everything needs to be taken care of.

"I tried to make your bed but didn't know where to put all your clothes. Thought of throwing them on the floor but the floor is dirty and your clothes are washed," Mack said and I sighed.

"Don't come over next time," I said.

"Why?"

"You fucking whine every time you come over. I fucking― Know that this place looks like shit, but what can I do?"

"Hire an interior designer, bro!"

"Fine, will think about it."

"Cool, does your back hurt?" he asked, placing the ointment on the floor.

"Hmm." I stood up from the chair and went to the bedroom to rest. I'm tired as hell and everything in me is hurting. Too tired to push the clothes away, I remove the shoes and lay back on the bed. Not caring about clothes and other things. I heard Mack's ringtone.

"Brad, I'm leaving." I heard Mack's voice. I didn't say anything as I slept feeling body pains. Everything feels cold and depressing as Mack put it in words.

*

"Take a rest, don't stress about tomorrow," Conner said while handing me a water bottle. I nodded my head in response.

"How is your back? Does it hurt?" Conner asked.

"No― It doesn't hurt anymore, but I need to stretch those muscles. I may visit a chiropractic centre."

"Okay, if you feel it's too much stress, then take a break. We cannot fight when you are having issues with your back. I don't want you to hurt your body."