Chapter 2: Alone and Unconscious
1142 Words
In the afternoon around 5 pm, Mikayla had gotten ready to go to work and her father was still in the house just waking his drunk ass up.
“Stop drinking if you ever intend to live,” Mikayla said, getting tired of seeing her father being like this, wasting his life, drowning in his sorrow, and forgetting he had a daughter to take care of after his wife died.
“Stop with the nagging, little girl. This is my life, okay?” His drunken eyes looked lifeless while looking at her uninterested. He already looked like a zombie, someone who had given up on life but kept living just to mess around.
She nodded, if he said so. She would just get on then, without thinking about him. Her day had just started, and she didn’t want to spoil it. So, she walked out of the house just like that.
It took her about twenty minutes of walk to her workplace. The place was alive already, but not as crowded as it should have been when the night came.
Clap. Clap.
The manager in charge for the day clapped his hands, getting attention from the workers. “Big night, tonight. We’re expecting a big crowd tonight. So, do your best as always. And for our girl, Mik. A room is ready for you.”
“Thanks, Boss,” Mikayla replied. It was not a special treatment. A room would always be prepared for the in-house fighter. In-house fighter, meaning a fighter brought by the bar.
“Let’s get to work now,” the manager clapped again to dismiss the quick brief.
As usual, Mikayla worked normally for a couple of hours before the main event started. She excused herself just half an hour before the fight began. Mikayla was now in the room by herself. She did some stretching and a little practice before getting into the ring.
A few minutes before the fight, Mikayla could hear the loud cheer outside the room. She didn’t feel nervous at all as she had been doing this for years. She had no expectations whatsoever. If she wins, she gets some money, and if she loses, what a waste. That was it, nothing to sweat. She didn’t feel the thrill of winning or being disappointed when she lost, it all passed after a few fights. She fought for the money, not for the cheers or name anymore.
Knock. Knock.
The door opened, and a colleague peeped in to tell her that the fight was about to start. Mikayla nodded and walked out of the room to the boxing ring in the middle of the bar.
How could a boxing ring fit inside the bar? Well, when it was not used for its purpose, it was turned into a little stage for entertainment. The bar was a bar after all, it needed loud music and the glamorous nightlife. And the bar she worked at, it never disappointed its customers. They were the top performance bar for a reason.
“MK. MK. MK. MK.” People started chanting her nickname as she walked down to the ring. Mikayla walked while keeping her eyes straight to the front. She didn’t mind the chanting and cheering. She only focused on getting in the ring, fighting, and winning the money. So, she could pay back the debt her father had.
Her opponent opposed her. A guy with a muscular body, tough, and above her, just by the look. That was not important. What was important was their strength. Who could be who, and whatever tricks they had up their sleeves.
Mikayla avoided his punch successfully. This guy was a new face for her, meaning it was their first time fighting in the ring. His face showed ambition to win against her, fierce anger. He knew he couldn’t win after a few punches, and after feeling her strength. He was already out of breath, a few minutes into the fight.
“Just give up, little girl,” he said breathlessly.
“No,” she snarled. She was not flawless by now. She took some punches on the face, she was bloodily and bruised. But she was not going to give up that easily. She needed the money, and she would get that money.
“Don’t blame me then.” Mikayla looked puzzled for a second before a fist went unnoticed. Her opponent dropped her with one hell of a punch. She lost consciousness the second his fist came in contact with her face.
The crowd gasped when they saw Mikayla fall and get knocked out. Some winced, and some others were booing because of the loss. Her supporters were visibly disappointed that their fighter got knocked out so easily, so unlike her.
Two bodyguards lifted her up and brought her out of the ring while her opponent was celebrating his win. Mikayla was brought back to the room to let her rest and wake up on her own. Who was to stay by her side and wait until she woke up? Nobody. Sure, she had friends, but they were all busy in their own world, and they all had something better to do than wait for an unconscious woman to wake up.
Mikayla lay on the hard cushion in the small room alone and still unconscious. She was lying flat on the long chair as she was placed by the guards. The air in the room she was in felt eerie, the reason being she had just lost, and the trace was still there in the flash. Her bruises had turned blue, and she did not forget about her messed-up face.
She was peaceful in this state, but once she woke up, she sure as hell would have pulled on her hair because she just lost and didn’t have the money to pay the debt.
An hour had gone by and Mikayla had started to regain her conscious. She groaned in pain when she tried to move her body.
“f**k,” she cursed lowly but she wanted to shout it out loud, she just couldn’t do it. In the end, she had to keep her problem all to herself. She covered her face with her hand, but not to cry. The lights were too bright for her eyes.
She slowly got up into a sitting position, wincing as it hurt when she moved. She looked at herself in the mirror, which was positioned right in front of her. It was like the world wanted her to see how she was right now. How her condition was, and whether she could handle herself.
She was the definition of a wreck.
Someone could be so broken but had to stand strong to live in a cruel world with nobody to lean on. She was a definition of a strong woman.
- Writer
