CHAPTER 22

Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!

That was all Miguel had time to think before he saw Miguel's dad's fist swinging towards his jaw. And for a moment, a terrorising moment, Miguel was frozen to the spot in fear. He wasn't Miguel the fighter. He was just Miguel, Manuel's son, a little kid who was helpless to stop the actions of his father. However, luckily, at the very last moment, Miguel's reflexes kicked in. Just in time too, as Miguel practically felt the punch whiz through his hair. But with Manuel's second strike, Miguel wasn't so lucky. It was a vicious kick to the stomach that sent Miguel stumbling back and crashing into the wall behind him.

Okay, so this is happening. Get it together, Diaz! Focus! Miguel's mind snapped the rest of his body awake as he watched his father advance like a Great White closing in on a seal. Manuel wasn't in any particular hurry. He knew this fight was over before it had even started. Miguel had just a few seconds left before his dad reached him, so he forced himself to clear his mind. To ignore the gravity of the situation and only focus only on the fight. He needed to do this if he wanted any chance of surviving. Make no mistake, this was still very much a fight to the death. Miguel just forced himself to forget the fact that him and this man shared 50% of his DNA. It was a nameless, faceless man he was about to take on, and that was enough to get Miguel into the zone and prepare him for the fight.

As his father drew closer, Miguel took a deep breath before stepping forward to meet him, immediately going onto the offensive to try and catch his father off-guard. Miguel unleashed a hurricane of kicks that his father had to dive backwards to avoid. Unfortunately though, Manuel didn't let Miguel stay on the offensive for long, as he managed to parry Miguel's kicks and throw Miguel off-balance, before retaliating with his own combination. That's how it went for the next little while, back and forth like a seesaw. For a few fleeting moments, Miguel would think he had the upper hand, before his father would just turn momentum right back his way.

It went like this, the terrifying striking exchange, for a couple of minutes, before Miguel made his first and most costly mistake. Miguel sent one too many kicks at his father, and his father managed to catch his roundhouse in mid air. From there, Miguel was helpless as he had one leg in his father's grasp, so was wildly off-balance. All it took was a simple takedown to get Miguel onto his back. This was where Miguel well and truly lost the fight. Up until this point, Miguel had used predominantly Johnny's fighting tactics. He knew that it would be the only way for him to catch his father unawares and potentially win the fight. However, now that he was flat on his back and him and Manuel were wrestling for dominance on the ground, Miguel realised that he was hard-pressed to think of too many moves Johnny had taught him, in the past 6 months at least. It had all been about training for the tournament, so because of that, they had neglected to learn vital skills such as grappling and wrestling as Johnny had deemed them useless for the All-Valley. Because of this, Miguel was forced to rely on moves his father taught him and every single one of them, Manuel had been a few steps ahead of him.

Miguel only managed to last about a minute, before he found himself on his back, his legs pinned down, and his father's hands wrapped around his neck like a vice and slowly beginning to squeeze the life out of him. Miguel's hands tried to claw at his father's, desperately trying to get himself out of the chokehold, but it was no use. He wasn't strong enough. As the teenager stared up at his father, he saw a look in his father's eyes that he had never seen before. It was a look of… emptiness. A look of 0 emotion whatsoever. Miguel had been wrong. His father hadn't given a shit about him. He just wanted Miguel to join his gang, that's why he had kept Miguel around as long as he did. And now that Miguel had said that he was no use to him, his dad had no problems disposing of him.

I'm going to die, Miguel thought to himself. I'm officially going to die today. Today's the day that God has decided to punch out my ticket. With every passing second, Miguel could feel less and less air coming into his lungs, his head beginning to feel lighter and lighter. And at this point, Miguel simply stopped fighting. He knew it was useless. It wasn't going to change the outcome. All it would do was give him a false sense of hope and checking out of the world would be a lot less painful. So Miguel just closed his eyes and let the angel of death overtake him. But it wasn't his time. Or at least not just yet anyways. Miguel still had about a minute left before he truly ran out of oxygen and died, so he let his mind float away. He found himself dragged back a few weeks, and as he looked around, realised he was back in the hallowed halls of the All Valley Sports Arena.

Miguel's heart clenched with guilt as he saw her, standing and filling up her water bottle. No. He couldn't do this. No way. Even the thought of it just made him sick. Even just one day without seeing her made his heart ache. How was he supposed to leave without even telling her, for an indeterminable amount of time. So much he needed to say to her. Well… not so much. 3 short words that he didn't know whether he could wait any longer to say.

"Congrats." Miguel murmured as he walked over to her. "Heard you made it to the finals."

Upon hearing his voice, Sam's head shot up and she spun around to face him. When she saw him, shiftly his weight uneasily from foot to foot, she hurried over to him, concern filling her deep blue eyes.

"What happened? Are you okay?" She asked. Miguel took a deep breath and nodded.

"Yeah, I'm fine." He murmured, every fibre of his being wanting to tell her what he was about to do, but his greater sense shutting him up. He knew that if he told her, she would find a way to convince him not to go and he would lose the nerve to do so. Not to mention that right before her big final against Tory was a wildly inappropriate time to do so.

Miguel spluttered and stammered, trying to find a believable lie in the moment.

"Yeah, I, um… I just felt like I wasn't fighting for me anymore." He murmured. That was decent enough. That was believable. Hell, a part of that was even true. But it wasn't the whole reason he wasn't fighting anymore, but he knew he couldn't tell Sam that.

Sam nodded, understandably.

"I get that. I feel pressure from my dad all the time." She replied. Miguel sighed, internally shaking his head. As much as Sam tried, she couldn't truly understand how he was feeling. Not when Mr. Larusso was as an amazing dad as he was.

"Except that Johnny isn't my dad." Miguel mumbled quietly, stating the harsh truth. This whole day - hell, this whole week since the prom - every time Miguel saw his sensei, all he could hear were those words. Those words of affection that while Miguel knew were unintentional and were merely the result of Johnny's drunken state, they had absolutely ripped him apart. THAT was why Miguel needed to leave. He needed to get answers.

A silent overtook the two of them, before Miguel quickly shook his head, not wanting to distract Sam anymore. For a brief moment, as Miguel stared into her eyes, he very nearly gave in and told her what he was about to do. She didn't need to say anything. She didn't even have a clue what was going on. But her mere presence caused a wracking guilt to flood through Miguel, an unimaginable pain that he knew would only be relieved if he told her. He needed to leave as soon as possible because he wouldn't be able to hold up forever!

"Anyways, uh… I just wanted to wish you good luck." He told her. This was it. That was his chance to say those three words to her at long last. Because he really felt them. Really possessed that affection towards her that he didn't feel towards anyone else in the whole world.

However, just as he was about to say them, a loud voice filled the P.A system, calling Sam and Tory to the mat for their big final, effectively cutting Miguel off.

"Well, I've gotta go." Sam said. "But I'll see you out there rooting for me, right?"

Once again, the guilt upon hearing her say these words were nearly too much to bear. He knew that if the roles were reversed, Sam would be at Miguel's finals in a second. That was the worst part. He could physically afford to be at that final. He was just so fucking weak, that he needed to take the opportunity to sneak away when everyone's back was turned. He couldn't just be a man and tell them what was going on. Say to them the proper goodbye that they deserved. No, he had to be so fucking small about it.

"I'm always rooting for you, Sam." Miguel found the words to reply. The pair then kissed, and if Sam didn't have to go fight now, Miguel was convinced that he would never have let go. This, with her… that was where he wanted to be for the rest of his life.

As he watched Sam turn her back and walk away, he very nearly called out to her those words. He knew that in case something happened to him in Mexico, he didn't want to die never having said them. But in the end, he decided not to. Telling her at long last would be a reason for him to return…

By dragging Miguel back to this memory, it was like God had thrown him a lifeline. God had reminded him of a reason he wanted to live. A reason he needed to get out of here alive. Although Miguel was well and truly on the brink of unconsciousness, his fighting and scrambling for survival continued. He realised that trying to pull his father's arms off him wouldn't work, so Miguel instead needed to try something different. Miguel's arms reached out around him and eventually, they hit something. Miguel's eyes widened as he realised what it was. In the midst of their fight earlier, Miguel had been thrown against the dining table and in the struggle, he had knocked most of the contents on top of it to the ground. That's why Miguel felt his fingers curl around a ceramic bowl.

He had a weapon now - a pretty lame one but a weapon all the same. The problem now was time. Feeling black spots dance upon his eyes, Miguel knew that he didn't have long now until he truly lost consciousness and the battle was lost. So channelling every ounce of strength he had left, Miguel grabbed the bowl and smashed it against the back of Manuel's head…

Instantly, Miguel felt Manuel's arms fall limp, no longer choking him. And a few moments later, Miguel felt his father fall on top of him, barely conscious. Rolling out from under him, Miguel felt feelings of relief flood through his body like never before. He was alive! Coughing, spluttering and eventually regaining consciousness enough to stand, Miguel stumbled to his feet. He looked down and saw that the near deadly threat that had been his father was now neutralised, as the only sound and movement the man made were soft groans of pain as he clutched his head, the shattered bowl lying beside him. Just seeing him there awoke Miguel from his daze even more, and despite his body screaming in agony, he forced himself to stumble towards the dining room door. He had one thing left to do: run…