Disclaimer-Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
A/N- Special thanks to my beta, LisaCA707 for her betaing help! Much love XOXO! It looks like I'm taking home 3rd place in Sport of Love Contest. Well, I'll display anything win on my profile. I've fallen in love with the phrase "Wizard of Ass" after Betty White hosted SNL, so be prepared.
Every night I remember that event
The way you looked when you said you were leaving
The way you cried as you turned to walk away
The cruel words and the false accusations
The mean looks and the same old frustrations
I never thought that we'd throw it all away
But we threw it all away.
And I'm a little bit lost without you
And I'm a bloody big mess inside
And I'm a little bit lost without you
This ain't a love song this is goodbye
This ain't a love song this is goodbye
-This Ain't a Love Song by Scouting for Girls
Dad and I weren't on speaking terms for a few more days. I was disappointed that Dad wasn't going to search a little harder to get better. I guess he was just reveling in his injury and being a victim.
Like every morning, I got up, dressed in gym clothes and made some scrambled eggs to go with my protein shake. It was nice getting more calories in for once. But, I hated that they came from welfare.
Paul picked me up. "Hey, how's it going?"
"Good enough," I said. "Look, when's the next fight night?"
Paul shrugged. "Two weeks," he said. "You think you're up for it?"
"No, but I need it."
"Don't overdo it, Em," he said.
"I never do."
Chris continued to be scared of me at work, which helped a lot. I did my work without complaint and he wasn't harassing me so much. We didn't talk at all, aside from him giving me orders, which helped things.
I did the math in my head, thinking about how many fights I could do to earn enough money to get Bella set up into college and pay off the mortgage. If we just had the mortgage paid off, I wouldn't have to work fifty and sixty hours a week. I could take Bella's job at Newton's, put that little Wizard of Ass kid in his place and just make sure Dad got by.
I was still pissed at Dad for not going with me to see Dr. Nick. I really felt like Dad could improve enough to where he could enjoy life again. He hadn't been fishing in almost four years. We used to spend every Saturday in the summer in his little motorboat on the lake, fishing, just him and me. Those were some of my best summers in my life. Maybe, if Dad started feeling better, we could do that again. Although, I'd still lost out on a lot in my own life. I didn't want to be bitter about it, but it was hard not to be.
My stomach rumbled and I thought about the upcoming fight. In the past two weeks, I had worked on my endurance and tried to beef up the guns. I was beginning to get some aches and soreness back in my neck and lower back, but I didn't want to go over to Nick's to take advantage of his generosity.
Of course, I didn't feel cocky about tonight's fight. Sam and Jacob put me up first against some hyper-ass mother fucker who looked like he was on coke, all twitchy and shit in the locker room.
"Hey man," Embry said as I sat down on the bench. He started wrapping my knuckles.
"Hey," I said.
"So, what's this I hear about a hot blonde who out ran you and Paul?"
"Shut the fuck up," I said. "I stayed behind because her ass looked so good."
"So you're an ass man?"
"Since I met this girl, I'm an everything man, now."
"I heard you fell like a little girl," he said.
"Eat me."
"You're up in ten," he reminded me.
He helped me get my gloves on.
I took a moment to breathe and think about what I was going to do. I had the endurance and the strength, but, what if this meth-head had more strength than he seemed to have?
"Lady coming through!" someone yelled. "Hey, lady coming through!"
"Emmett?"
I saw Rosalie coming into the locker room with her father.
"What are you doing here?" I cried.
"You going through with this again?" Dr. Nick asked. "Emmett, how are you feeling?"
I shrugged. "Eh."
"Let me adjust your neck real quick," he said. "Come on, sit down."
I did as he told me to and he came up behind me, taking my head. "Relax, relax…" He snapped my head to the side and took it to crack it the other way. "Better?"
"Yeah," I said.
"Let's get your upper back… damnit if I don't have a table." He managed to adjust my lower back standing up, and I felt like a new man. "Why didn't you come by after your father said no?"
I had called him and I thought that was enough. "I don't have good insurance," I said. "They wouldn't cover me."
"Don't worry about it," he said. "A couple of bucks is fine."
"Swan, you're up," Embry said.
"Gotta go," I said.
I noticed I was more attentive as Paul, Seth and I went out. "We'll be in the audience," Rosalie called after me. "Good luck!"
The crowd was rowdier than usual tonight. I few things were thrown, but not stuff like glass bottles or anything, just stuff like hot dog wrappers and popcorn boxes. I climbed up into the ring and Seth helped me get the jaw piece in to protect my teeth.
They had Jessica Stanley, that fat-ass chick who'd asked Bella how much her boobs made her, doing the bikini girl duties tonight. She was sucking it in so much it wasn't even funny. She was turning blue and looked like a clod in those heels. I wished Bella could be here to see her and laugh at her. So, Jessica, how much ARE those tits of yours making for you?
I saw the meth head climb into the ring as Seth put Vaseline over my eye sockets.
"Tonight's first fight is Emmett Swan of Forks, Washington, the winner of the middle-weight fight on the night of the 2nd of June, weighing in at two-hundred eleven pounds in the red and white shorts. And in the other corner, weighing in at one ninety-six, is Kevin Helman from Hoquiam, Washington, wearing the blue and gold. Over-seeing the match as referee is Mark Kleneman. Competitors, are you ready?"
I got up and went to the middle of the ring. Meth head did, too. I slammed my gloves down on top of his. "Let's do this, punk," I muttered through my mouthpiece.
Last time, my anger saved me. I had wasted so much of it on Chris the week after my first fight, like a dumbass. I knew I had to save it all up for moments like this.
Jessica came around with the white board, her jelly belly sucked up.
I had to think about the things that made me mad and make this last for ten rounds to get the full ten thousand. Bella not taking care of Dad. Dad taking too many pain pills instead of just going to Dr. Nick. Chris being a complete douchebag and putting me on discipline after his shithead behavior towards me.
The bell rang and I let the rage seep out.
The meth head immediately took a jab at my face. I dodged him, but just barely. I took a swipe and darted away. He was just as fast on his feet and he got me pretty damn good in the eye. He punched pretty hard—I assumed that was because of the meth. I hit him in the nose and he immediately started spurting out blood.
The bell dinged. I won round one.
Jessica strutted her poofy belly around the ring, sign held high, indicating the start of the second round. Stupid little whore. She picked on Bella for no good reason other than she was jealous of her tits. At least my little sister didn't parade them around for men. What made me angrier was the fact that I knew that Jessica slept around—often, but called my sister a slut just because of how she was built. I let my anger take over my body as I heard the bell ring. Apparently my anger had taken me over completely, as I realized I had Meth Head in the corner and was pounding him. He covered his head and I knew I had him because he grabbed the ropes. I won Round 2.
Seth took out my mouthpiece in the corner and gave me a swallow of water to swish around my mouth. "He's got power, you gotta watch out for that," Paul said. I glared at Meth Head in the corner. I knew I could beat this punk. "He'll come around later, trust me."
"Shit, man," I said. "He's probably putting it all out there up front. He won't be pretty in round 7 when he starts coming down."
Round three, I won because Meth Head started fighting dirty. He hit me in the head with his elbow, which the ref called as a foul. I felt like Meth Head was holding out on something. Like he had some kind of magic ability to beat me and was just faking me out, wearing me down early on.
Round four and five I won, but by six, the fatigue was setting in. I lost six, but on seven, my eye started swelling up. I had to work fast and hard. I just barely got him on all his fouls: ducking below my waist, hitting me in the belt and shoving me with an open-hand. That was an immediate forfeit after three fouls. He liked to play dirty thinking the ref wouldn't see it.
We squared off again, and I thought about how frustrating Dad was being. I just wanted to punch him. Dr. Nick had helped me to prepare tonight, yet Dad was throwing it back in my face.
He liked that fucking welfare. Dad, welfare, Dad, welfare. Goddamn fucking ass-raping welfare!
For a moment, I saw Dad's head on Meth Head's shoulders and, for once, I slammed my fist into his face. The bastard came back almost super-human-like.
He was so much stronger than I thought. He had been saving it up. I wondered what was in his water. He pounded me so hard I thought I'd never get up.
Come on, Dad, just try it once.
Emmett, I said 'no!'
Fucking shit. Just be a drain on society while I have to take care of you!
I fought back as hard as I could.
Whining over the mattress, doubling up your pain meds, giving into the depression- god damnit, Dad! I just got four thousand dollars and I'm going to have to waste it on a new mattress because you're so dead inside and don't want to try?
I took a swing and Meth Head fell.
Oh shit. I didn't mean to. I wanted the ten thousand.
"One, two, three-"
Meth Head got up— slowly.
Mark gave me the round. Meth Head was bringing his A Game on me this late. I had been wrong.
Round nine, I'd let him win it, but I wouldn't give in completely and then knock his shit out in round 10.
I let him back me into the corner to think he was winning and Mark gave him the round.
The tenth round was when I'd bring my fucking 'A game.'
"Emmett! Emmett!" a girl in the audience screamed over the noise. I wanted it to be Rosalie. I was a bit woozy at this point, but I had to win—had to keep my head in the game.
Meth Head tried to sneak in a punch from the left side, but I hit him back, thinking about Mom. Mom left. Selfish bitch. Trying to relive her life, like she screwed up in the first place. Having another kid because she wanted something other than Bella and me. Leaving Dad simply because she couldn't stop fucking other people.
I hit back harder, a jab striking Meth Head in the bloodied face. He was like the fucking bionic man on all this Meth. Shit. I punched again, again, him not feeling anything. I winced and pulled back. Meth Head came after me; I had to end this with a win.
I hoped Chris was watching. I wanted to see him scared of me. I sucked in air and fought back as hard as I could.
Don't think, just fight, I told myself.
Meth Head hit me so hard my head knocked back. I yelped and caught my head from slinging back. I punched back, first in the gut and then with the other fist into his cheek. He sputtered and spit out his mouthpiece and, I realized, a couple of teeth with it.
Gross.
The bell rang. I realized the 3 minutes were up. And I had won the round.
"Winner- Emmett Swan!" Mark said, grabbing my wrist, holding my hand up.
I laughed in relief. I won. I really won.
Paul and Seth ran in and helped to get my mouth piece out. The crowd was going insane; I couldn't even take time to enjoy the victory because and I had a headache and was dizzy.
I groaned and had to drape an arm around Paul's shoulder, who was cheering and hooting like he just won.
Meth Head backed into a corner and collapsed while he took the sting of loss.
Paul got me out of the ring and we went to the locker room.
Rose came in with Nick, who took a look at me. "Jesus, Emmett!" he cried, getting out a pencil flashlight, making me follow the light with my eyes. "That kid looked like he was hopped up on something! Don't you know what could happen if he gets blood on you?"
I had never thought of that.
"There's a reason why this illegal," he continued. "There's no drug or blood testing, he could infect you with some kind of disease like AIDs if you get exposed to his blood! Or go up against some sick fuck using steroids! What the hell was that kid on, anyway?"
"Let's get Emmett checked out," Rosalie said.
"I'm a doctor, I did this for twenty years, Rose," Nick snapped. "Yeah, you have a good knock on the noggin. Let's go."
I knew from last time, there was no fighting it.
"Let me get paid, first," I slurred.
"That's going to be after the night's over," Paul said. "You don't want to wait that long."
"I better get the full ten thousand," I barked.
"When have we ever screwed you?" Paul asked. "Go."
Nick had to put a hoodie on me and slipped an arm around my back to keep me upright. Rose had gone to pull the car around.
The black Escalade was really nice on the inside. Rose was behind the wheel and Nick left me in the back to ride shotgun.
"How are we doing?" Rosalie asked.
"Drive fast," Nick said.
She stepped on the gas and I felt the world lurch.
The ride seemed to take forever and every time I started to nod off, Nick woke me up and blared loud music.
They waved me through Triage and I laid down on the examining table.
"Don't you understand how dangerous this is?" Nick asked. "You really have to decide— go pro or you're signing your own death sentence!"
"Dad, calm down, he's probably not even awake."
I groaned and tried to sit up.
"So, Emmett," Dr. Gerandy said, pulling aside the curtain to the cubicle. "You get mugged again?"
"Yeah, by a midget," I responded.
"Don't listen to him," Nick responded. "He's been knocked on the head a few times too many."
"I know," Gerandy said. "CT Scan, standard. Emmett, you know you're going to have some serious brain damage if you keep this up. Whatever it is."
"I know," I said. Of course, everybody in town knew but nobody talked about it. I betcha the Forks PD was in on the betting too.
Since it was a slow night, they put me into the CT quickly. Apparently, I just had a bad knock on the head. This wasn't as bad as last time, Dr. Gerandy informed us. I was pretty busted up, though. I had some scalp stitches and they sent me packing.
While I waited for release papers, Paul and Seth came in.
"How did I do?" I asked Seth.
"We got the full ten," he said.
I high-fived Paul and then Seth. I owed them the ten percent and then I'd pay off the gym membership for the year. The rest of that was going back into the bank—not the family's account, but a new one I'd open tomorrow. I didn't want to tip anybody off. But not before a long nap and a shower.
"I want to sleep," I said. "Take me home?"
"Sure," Paul said.
"Call me in the morning," Nick said.
"Good night, Emmett," Rose said.
"Bye, Rose," I said, seeing her walk away with her father. She hardly spoke to me.
Damn. She hated me.