To fight and win means the control is mine. The last man standing proves it all. Never again will I be on the losing end of the blow, the one lying broken and bloody wanting to die.
Control. Dominance. Aggression. Victory.
Each represents a means to survival, a necessity to stay alive, and the key to suppress the demons that lie inside; the very ones clawing and attempting to break free from the bar that holds them at bay. Every day is a struggle to stay away from the darkness and evil that lurks deep within, the truths I repress.
Eighteen years that bastard had his teeth in me. Six thousand five hundred and seventy days he hated me. And if that wasn’t enough to pay my sin the guilt still consumes me. The nightmares won’t let go.
Nine years ago I left behind the bloodthirsty beast. I walked away from everything I had ever known. I sent her away like she didn’t matter—the first girl I ever loved and my only best friend. The only person that ever understood me. 108 months I’ve been getting by. On every fight night I’m considered a pretty lucky guy. To them it’s a career. To me, it’s a life-support I need.
A fucking fashion show.
That’s what it took to put her in my path. A pair of whiskey brown eyes that I’d never forget. I was threatened to never touch her. A selfish prick never stays away. I was going to change her life for one night. What I didn’t know: she was about to change mine.
A savior comes in the form we need it. Nothing more, nothing less.