Page 7 of Bruised Hearts

I began hitting the bag the way he taught me. I tried to push him out of my head and focus, but I kept hearing his words. I was never trying to be a boxer. It was the exact thing I stopped myself from saying out loud many of times. In most sports, people felt they were born for it. With boxers, most of us turned to the sport out of survival. Without fighting as an outlet, there would be no way to compartmentalize our emotions. A walking time bomb. Hitting the bag harder, I pushed back tears as I thought about how I began fighting. My dad. He was my everything.

He loved the sport, but it didn’t love him. When I was six, my father died sparring in the ring. He was an amateur boxer, but he was trained enough where he shouldn’t have died. However, he made an amateur mistake. He forgot to move the stool out of the ring, and when he went down, his head hit the edge. Everything for me changed in that moment. I became angry, hurt, and confused. Fighting not only became a defense mechanism for me, but that’s when it became an outlet for me. A way for me to release my emotions. I didn’t go starting shit, but it was always how I finished it.

Right. Right. Left.

Everyone labeled me as angry. No matter what my heart screamed, or what my tears yelled, they brushed it off. Nobody cared why the child was angry, only the aftermath of what that anger caused. To be honest, nobody cared what I did until I fought. Not because they were concerned, but because of who I did it to. That was the hard lesson I had to learn as a kid. Feeling myself about to lose it, I grabbed my bag and left the gym. I was not trying to fall apart in a room full of strangers. Sitting in the car, I allowed myself to break down. After about five minutes, I gathered myself and wiped my tears. Feeling someone watching me, I looked over, and there was Landon. Staring at me as if he knew my secrets. As if he understood my pain. Starting the car, I drove off.

5- Landon “Breaker” Mercer

“Damn, baby. Slow down. This shit ain’t going nowhere.” Tan was sucking my dick like she was trying to take the skin off off the mufucka.

“Sit back and let me show you how nasty I can get.” I pushed her head back, so that she can look me in my eyes and know I was serious.

“If you go anywhere near my ass, you gone have to suck dick through your throat.” The look she gave me let me know I wasn’t wrong in my assumption. After I moved my hand, Tan went back to sucking my dick, but this time it was with an attitude. “Say, Jit. Look out.”

“What’s wrong with you?”

“I’m good. I need my shit sucked with love and understanding. I’m good.” Standing up, I tapped the door and walked to the bathroom to piss. I knew when I came out, Titan will have already removed her from my room. I knew this was a mistake, but I needed a release. My mystery woman who I now knew was Ariyah had my mental fucked up.

The first day I saw her at the gym, it was more cat and mouse. She was trying to avoid me like the plague, however, lately it seems she’s looking to be in my space. I don’t mind, but I have a feeling it’s more to the story. Ariyah hasn’t said what her intentions are, but I know fucking with me ain’t one. Outside of small talk, she only asks questions about boxing for the most part. Every time I think she’s about to let me in, shorty hit my ass with a question on technique.

Shit was driving me insane, and I was ready to bill her ass for my services, since that’s all it seems she’s after. Feeling myself get annoyed, I brushed my teeth and walked out of the bathroom. I was relieved Tan was gone. Throwing on some joggers and a tee, I grabbed my bag and walked out the room. Titan gave me a knowing look, as he tried to hide his laugh.

“I’m going to the gym. When I’m done, I’m taking my ass to the crib.” The only reason I had the room was because it was close to where Ariyah lived. Yeah, I was on some stalking shit, but I was trying to put the pieces together that she wouldn’t share. I was hoping I would run into her ass, but that shit ain’t happened. I’m dishing out bread for a hotel when I got a damn mini mansion.

“Whatever you say, boss.” Getting in the backseat of my car, we headed to the gym with a lot on my mind. The best thing about The Ninth Round, it never closed. If you were hungry enough, there was no time limit on training. When we pulled up, I saw Ariyah’s car parked in front. All this time I’ve been trying to run into her, and all I had to do was go to the gym. I damn near jumped out before the car stopped, and this time I did hear Titan laugh.

Walking inside, I tried to act as if I didn’t know she was here. I went to the locker room first, and then to my normal bag. It didn’t take long before I started stealing glances. One look at the way she was hitting the bag, I knew she was fighting something that wasn’t there. I tried to mind my business, but five minutes later I was walking towards her. Shorty never looked up at me. Pushing my annoyance down, I grabbed the bag for her and held it. Ariyah was punching with so much emotion I could feel it as if it was my own. Every punch she threw traveled through the leather right into me.

“You’re not fighting them.” Her head snapped up, and she looked up at me shocked.

“What?”

“Whoever hurt you.” I know I was being a hypocrite because it was how I’ve won every fight. I pretended they were Raymond.

“You don’t know me.”

“I know.” She looked up at me shocked again, so I’m assuming she wasn’t used to people agreeing with her. Her jaw tightened, but I continued. “I don’t know a lot about you, but I know what I see.”

“Stop looking then.” I fought back a laugh, but I refused to allow her to deflect.

“When you fight it doesn’t seem like you’re trying to win. Looks like you’re throwing punches to keep people at a distance.”

“Don’t psychoanalyze me, Landon.” Her attitude was in full force, so I knew I was hitting close to home.

“I’m not. I’m recognizing you.” I let that sink in and she finally looked up at me with big, sad eyes. I held her eyes before she gave a fake smile and went back to punching. After about five minutes, she was back to normal and the tough look resurfaced.

“You a therapist or a fighter?”

“What, you trying to fight?” I knew exactly what she was doing. Shorty was changing the subject. I did the same thing when I was drowning in my own head, and I appreciated when mufuckas didn’t dig and changed the subject.

“You don’t want this smoke.” Letting go the bag, I climbed into the ring and held the ropes for her. I could see the twinkle in her eyes, and if I’m being honest, that’s all I wanted.

“You still talking? First to fall on the ropes, loses. Loser buys dinner.” Ariyah smiled as she climbed in with me.

“I’m glad you got moneyyyyy. I have a big appetite and I don’t eat cute.”

“You don’t need to as fine as you are.” Shorty started blushing, but she didn’t respond. When she went into her stance, I followed suit. The first jab she threw I saw coming a mile away. “You’re using your entire body, instead of your hip.”