A Fighting Chance

Chapter 2

Demi

"Every champion was once a contender that refused to give up," I said out loud to my client, who was on the table, as I continued to extend his shoulder outward. He just looked up over at me and rolled his eyes.

"You and your damn, encouraging, fighting references," he said as he shook his head. I let out a soft laugh.

"I can't help it. At one point it was a huge part of my life," I said as I focused on his arm, and started to massage the interior shoulder joint.

"How so?" He looked over at me and asked.

"It's a long story. Maybe I will save it for our next session. We are just about out of time." I said as I patted his shoulder, and walked over, grabbing my pen to write down his next exercise program for the upcoming week. I quickly jotted down a few things, and handed it to him. " I want you to do these exercises twice a day. We really want to make sure we are building that muscle tissue around the shoulder," I said as I walked over and opened up the door.

"Awesome. See you next week, same time?" He asked as he looked over at me, giving me a thumbs up.

I gave him a soft smile, "Yup. Next week, same time. See you later, Todd," I said waving as I watched him leave, and then shut the door.

As soon as the door shut I walked over to my desk, sat down in my chair, and swiveled around towards the computer. I let out a deep sigh, just as my head fell in the palm of my hands. I was exhausted. I sat there remembering the quote that I just told, Todd. I remember the day I first heard it. My dad, who was an MMA fighter, came home after a long day of training, picked me up, under the shoulders, and looked at me. He said, "Demi, every champion was once a contender that refused to give up. I never want you to give up on your dreams. You are my little champion." My dad was always full of encouraging words. I remember when I was little I would always go sit on the sides, while my dad would be hitting the punching bag. I loved watching my dad interact with his gym friends, and enjoy doing what he loved. I remember as a kid, my mother, Dianna, would never actually let me go to the fights to watch. It made me sad, but she always thought that it was inappropriate for children. She was probably right.

As I sat there, sifting through the memories of my father, I found myself missing him terribly. It has been twelve years now, since I stood in front of my fathers grave and said my goodbyes.
I sat there staring at a picture that was on my desk as I was taken back to the memory of my father being lifted down into the grave. A few months after my twelfth birthday, I got the devastating news that my father had passed away. It was a day that I will never forget. I remember it as if it were just yesterday. My dad left for his fight earlier that day. He had a lot of press to do before the big fight, so I didn't get to see much of him. On the days that he was fighting, I would always be asleep by the time he got home. Whenever he finally made it home, after a fight, he would sneak into my room, kiss me on the forehead, and say, "Goodnight, my little fighter." I would wake up with a smile on my face, ask him how his fight was, and then fall back asleep. It was our nightly routine. I remember crawling into bed later that night. My mom tucked me into bed, and told me that my father would be in to say goodnight as soon as he got home. I was so anxious to hear about how his fight went. I always loved hearing about how he sucker punched his opponent, or how everyone in the crowd roared out his fighting name, Cage God.I pulled the covers up over my head, and fell asleep.

In the middle of the night, I was abruptly awoken. I was expecting my father to be by my bedside, but instead, it was my mother. She was frantic as tears streamed down her face. "Baby, get up, we have to go," my mom abruptly said as she grabbed my arm and helped me sit up. I looked up at her unsure of what was even occurring. "Demi, come on, we have to go," she said once more as she ran over to grab my shoes and set them down in front of me. I looked up at her as I slipped them on.