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Paisley
I descend the creaky outside wooden stairs to the Pit, feeling the oppressive darkness wrap around me like a cloak. I've grown to love the dampness of the air, the musty smell of sweat and blood, the low roar of the crowd as I enter the dark room.
The concrete walls are covered with graffiti—symbols of loyalty and promises of revenge, words of hope and encouragement, names of champs. I slip a permanent marker from my bag, scribbling a quick goodbye.
Love you all Pit! Paise the Blaze
Our underground hell is pure heaven. The old, abandoned prison of the rural town outside of the Hamlet has been transformed into our fighting ground. The rusty iron bars of the old cellblock have been torn down to make way for the ring. I see the shadows of men and women gathered around it, their excitement palpable.
I've been raised as a perfect princess all my life, living in a glass bubble of protection and privilege. The grittiness of the Pit makes me feel alive.
My eyes adjust to the dim light, and I see the two fighters in the middle of the ring. One is a large man with a shaved head, his chest heaving with exertion as he tries to drive his fists into his opponent. The other fighter is smaller, but he moves with such agility and grace that he seems to dodge the larger man's blows with ease.
An underdog. Just like me. I push my way to the front, grabbing the cold bar that surrounds the ring in my hand.
The crowd is entranced by the fight, and when it's over, the smaller fighter emerges the victor. God, please let that be me tonight.
My friend Pippa first brought me to this place.
The first night I came, I knew I had to be part of this underground world.
When I told Dad I was getting into kickboxing, he immediately got me a trainer.A female one, of course. Forty years old with dark eyes and a crooked smile, the right half of her face paralyzed from a fight. He's the most overprotective dad in the world and was not going to have me one-on-oneing it with a guy.
She taught me everything I needed to know about kickboxing. Then, I opened up, telling her I wanted to learn self-defense. From there, we moved on to real boxing.She found something in me she liked and even made the mistake of introducing me to her daughter.
Pippa.
Pippa helped me practice, the two of us hiding in the back meadow just past the opening of the tunnel that leads out of the Hamlet. We would meet at the Pit to watch fights every night I could sneak away.
Then, I went into the ring for the first time.
It was amazing. The best feeling I've ever had in my life. I fought a German woman named Big Bertha. I got my ass kicked.
I've lost every fight since.
But I never stopped coming back.
I never stopped trying.
Tonight will be my last fight. I must win. I'll never be back here again.
The scent of beer and sweat thickens the air, like a fog that beads our skin and soaks our clothes. I'm too preoccupied to care. I still wear my light makeup from the party earlier, but I've done my hair in two tight French braids.
Usually, Pippa would do my hair for me.
The ref checks my braids for blades, smooths his hands over my sports bra and black shorts, making sure I'm not carrying any weapons.
"Let's have a nice, clean fight, Paise." I give him a nod as he slaps me a high five.
I bounce up the steps to the ring, high on adrenaline.
Even though I'm about to fight another woman, I feel no fear or hesitation. I've grown used to the thrill of the fight, the rush that comes from the physicality of it.
The crowd cheers as I step into the ring. "Paise the Blaze! Paise the Blaze!" Their shouts grow louder each week; everyone loves an underdog. I move forward and survey my opponent. She's short and stocky with dark eyes and an intimidating glint in her gaze.
Mara Mayhem. She's got twenty pounds and two years’ fighting experience on me. This will be no easy match. But I'm fast. Really fast. And I've got a fire in my belly and determination on my side.
I've got more motivation than her; I know this is my last-ever fight.
