Losing All But The Fight. (complete) updated.

Chapter 12.

Chapter 12.

"So what's got you all worked up?" Tom asked walking up to the punching bag I was working over.

I continued to work away at it for a while until throwing down my gloves. "What do you mean?" I asked a bit out of breath.

"You're not pacing yourself. I've been watching you for a little bit and you get sudden spurts of energy where you mix it up but you're not consistent." Tom frowned at me. "What's got you so worked up? I can tell by the way you move that you're following what's in that head of yours."

I laughed, undoing my hair binder to pull it all up again. "You know word around the gym is, you don't talk so much and keep to yourself." I smirked. "I think I like that."

He huffed and tossed his glove at me. "To bad!"

I chuckled and tossed his glove back. Tom jerked his head in a silent command for me to hold the bag. I rolled my eyes at him and steadied it, hugging the back to hold it still.

"Heard you did pretty good on your last fight." He continued to swing at the bag gradually building up speed between speech. "I also heard you got a little winded. He got in a few good blows didn't he?"

I narrowed my eyes at Tom. "Your point?"

Tom stopped and gave me his full attention. "My point? Why do you let Rick just throw you in the ring with whoever?! Why do you just take a spot in the ring if it's open and never ask questions about stats?"

"I won. What does it matter? The guy lucked out and got a lock on my rib cage. He might have been a tank with bricks for fist but I got out of it." I stated.

"Sure, but what if you hadn't." Tom looked irritated. "I just don't get how you could seem so detached. It's self destructive."

I started taking the tape off my wrist and hands, ditching my spot behind the bag. "You know what? I didn't ask you and I don't need you to understand. Being in the ring is my choice. I don't care about stats because you don't luck out and get attacked by some guy who just happens to be in a class your used to fighting in. I didn't ask you to care Tom, so don't! Stay the fuck out of it." With my outburst finished I shook my head at Tom and headed for the locker room.

Letting the hot water run down my back I enjoyed the silence of the abandon locker room. I stayed under the beating hot spray for some time, just trying to blank my mind. My hands stayed on the sides of the private shower stall to keep myself steady, with my head hanging down, the water scorching my neck and easing the tension in my back.

I shouldn't have snapped on Tom. I actually kind of liked the guy. In another life maybe, Tom and I would be good friends, but if it were another life I might never have met him. I wouldn't be in a gym like this, jumping in a ring like it's nothing.

It's not as if I have no grasp of the risk I take every time I choose to do something like this, every time I fight or draw attention. I understand the risk I take when I have to prove myself to other fighters because I'm not somebody you would expect to see in a ring. Not against men at least and these fights weren't completely legal. Sure there were rules. But there are also times when pride, arrogance, and an unhealthy competitiveness cause the fighters to throw out rules. 

When I fight though its like the part of the brain that distracts me shuts off and I can't think about anything but strategy, weaknesses, my body temperature changes, my adrenaline builds and I don't see anything but a threat. It's damn near peaceful because for once I'm only thinking about what's right in front of me.