I'm gonna say this again, and guys listen to me, this will happen, in every long term relationship. It's unavoidable, but it's not the end of the world. Trust me on this. With all that said, here's another story, in my character's relationship with Paige. As with the last installment, I'll be changing up a real UFC Fight Card, just a little bit. And this one will only be three chapters long.

Argument

8/6/15, 8:30 p.m.

Griffin's P.O.V.

Well, this wasn't exactly how I thought my day would end. But I'm already getting ahead of myself. Tomorrow morning, I fly to Nashville, to be the opener of the main card, of UFC Fight Night: Teixeira vs Saint Preux. I weigh 260 lbs, which is what I weighed when I started training camp, but my body wasn't in shape for a fight, after several months since my UFC debut. Nothing really felt wrong, during this entire two weeks, which was how long ago that I got called, about this fight. Nothing felt wrong, until just now, at least. Now that I've thrown up.

It took me a minute and a half to finish, but now I feel really weak, and I'm sweating like a motherfucker. While still by the toilet, I reach up, and flush everything away, then lean back against the bathroom wall, still siting on the floor. Depending on how I feel tomorrow morning, I may need to pull out of the fight. I really hope that don't happen. Any opportunity to move up the rankings, is one I'll take.

When I run my hand through my hair, and let a hard breath out, Saraya takes a seat next to me, handing me a washcloth, damped in cold water. I didn't realize she had come in. WWE let her off, to come with me, and watch the fight, like they did last time. I take the washcloth, thanking her as I do, and rub it all around my still sweating face. When I remove it, she grabs my head, and pulls me down to her collar bone, comforting me, in an effort to calm my nerves. "Breathe easy." She says to me, after she plants a kiss on my forehead.

After a minute of us sitting like this, I use the wall to get back to my feet, and walk slowly with Saraya, to the couch. I lean forward in my seat, and Saraya stays very close to me, giving me a moment, before she speaks. "I thought this might happen." I look her in the eyes, as she continues. "I came over a few times, the past two weeks. The way I saw you training, it reminded me of that fighter a couple of years ago, said he might've died from the way he was training. And I don't know for sure, but from what I saw, you're training the same way he does."

"I have to. I'm shooting for the top. And in this division, if you don't train hard, you're opponent will kill you." I respond to her.

"The way that you're training will kill you. I've seen some of you're training, even before we were dating. I've never seen you throw up, in any of that time. I come in, I'm not even home for five seconds, and I hear you throwing up."

"If it helps get me to the top, than it's what I need to do."

"You're anti-drugs. If you had to inject heroine into you're veins, to win the belt, would you do that?"

That upset me a bit. "Saraya, don't rationalize with me, with that."

"It's the only way I could make my point. Run for the belt as hard as you can, I understand that. But Griffin, where do you draw the line?"

I stand up, and walk around, to make sure that I've all my bearings back. Then, I turn to speak to Saraya. Everything that I said next, was completely driven by emotion. "There is no line. If I want to make it to the top, I have to bust my ass, whenever I train. I can never do it half way. And when I fight, I have to make sure that I make no mistakes. The only way I can get to where I want to be, is by training not only to be a better fighter, but to ensure that I'm the better fighter, in that cage, on any given night. That's what I have to do, to get that belt." What I said next, I regretted right after the last word escaped my lips. "It's not like they'll just give it to me, like they would yours!" That hurt, I could tell immediately. I loved her, but like with so many others that I either know, or love, or both, whether I mean to, or not, I can really hurt their feelings.

Saraya didn't say another word. She had an angry gaze, but I could also see some tears beginning to form. "Dammit." She gets up and starts heading back to the door, grabbing her keys from the rack. "Saraya, wait!" I yell to her, as she moves quicker. She gets into her car, as I step outside. "I didn't mean it!" It was too late, she had pulled out of the driveway, and was gone. "I'm sorry." I say to myself. In anger, I hammer fist a wall. Hendrix then joins up with me, making a confused groan, and tilting his head to the side. "She's mad at me, boy. She's not staying. Probably not coming to the fight, either."

There was nothing I could do, after that. I head back into my home, spend half an hour sitting in silence, with my face buried in my hands, before heading to bed. I spend a night constantly shifting between sleep, and trying to get back to sleep. Finally, at 4 in the morning, I give up, knowing that I have zero problems falling asleep on a plane.

So, yeah. I've done fucked up.