Beat it (Grim)

[grim.]

   

I feel his jaw crack beneath my elbow. He was badly injured. I slowly get to my feet, keeping my arm tucked above my chest. He was on the ground, groaning. He was feeling so much pain, I couldn't bare seeing him like that. Even though he wanted to end me so badly, I think in these few short moments of this spar, I have developed a deep connection with this man.
   I run over to his curled body and decide to see what I can do. I haven't found the need to help someone like this since I can remember. Maybe the age of 12, but its all a blur. He was debating killing me, but I wasn't going to show him the same brutality that he had shown me. 

I yell for a medic, hoping they can help his injures before the worsen. As the medics make their way over to us, I whisper in his ear "Its gonna be ok". I had to find some way to reassure him.
    The medics imidiatly take notice to my shattered whist, but i urge them to his jaw. I take my towel and try to wipe some of the tears from his eyes, they weren't falling, but I was going to make sure that he held on to his dignity, the only thing I didn't take from him.
    I move his hair away from his jaw, and notice it swelling. It was going to be a long recovery, and a painful one. He probably hated me for what I did, but I was gong to see if I could gain his friendship. After all having someone like him around, so much strength and brute, could be worth the battle.
The medics come and start to urge him to safety. They were worried about his jaw, and so was i.

[Jack Lexington]

Whether her or me are in more pain remains to be seen. Right now I can't waste one thought to the girl who just hammered her elbow in my face because a massive amount of saliva and blood are mixing in my mouth and with every hitched breath it's threatening to enter my already crappy lungs. All I can do is spit the disgusting mess on the ground. If only I could get my mouth open.

From one moment to the next I've become the loser of this show, curled up on the floor, probably stared at and laughed at by onlookers and especially her!
I only notice her standing next to me when her hand falls on my back. Instinctively I fend it off but then she's yelling for medics. What the hell?
Is my pathtic state actually scaring her?

I inhale a bit of liquid with the next breath I draw and start coughing, which is not only excrutiatingly painful in my jaw but makes me even shorter of breath. Fuck. I'm screwed. What do I need to do again when this happens? Think, Matt, think.

"Its gonna be ok" I hear her whispered voice. This could be her way of saying 'this is what you get for screwing with me' or she could actually care. For the briefest of moments I turn my eyes away from the pool of spit and blood underneath me and look at her. Her eyes are sincere. No hint of animosity. Wild!

She wipes at my skin and brushes a strand of my blonde hair from my face but when I catch her hand she only looks at me. What the hell is she doing this for? Why the pity now that she's broken me? What twisted ways!

I feel the skin of her hand under mine on my face as if we were much more than fighters in a gym, so I let mine fall off and return ´my gaze to the floor to focus on my breathing.

Then she calls for medics again while I remember that I have my inhaler in my bag.
It's not like this is the arena of the pregames. There might be one person on staff in the office building. To my surprise there are two medics present right now trying to take care of her, then me.
I don't get why she does what she does but I don't care either. All I need is to be alright and right now it's not looking so good.
One of them tells me to lean forward and let all the mess run onto the floor, so I won't choke on my own blood. There's a large hole in my tongue where I must have bitten it, which just won't stop bleeding but I can barely get my mouth open to tell them that I need more air.
So I pull down the top of my wifebeater to expose the scar on my chest before I choke out what I need. Maybe they'll make the connection. Hopefully because I'm panicking and trying to get up.

For a moment I get dizzy from another coughing attack but once I get the inhaler it's getting better. They keep telling me stuff like 'See a doctor- you might have a broken jaw. Get stitches in your tongue...alright?' I'm too focussed on myself though. I've learned over the course of the past months that the only thing that can help me is my very own focus and calmness.

It must be 5 or ten minutes later when I catch a glimpse of my opponent again, who's getting some ice for her hand and it wrapped up before the mean yell of the supervisor of this training center shakes us all to the bone.
"What the hell have you two been thinking? If you do this thing out on the street the peacekeepers willthrow you in the dc. This is a training center! we train to kill. We don't kill. Both of you- get out, get yourself looked at and come back on Monday to discuss the consequences!"

In a flash he's gone.

[grim.]

They drag him away, he was confused. He must of been astonished at my attempt to help him, frankly so was I. What was it about this boy that made me want to help him so damn much. He was a complete asshole, yet I found joy in his company.

 He is short of breath, he must have something internally wrong. More then just is messed up jaw. Possibly something wrong with his lungs. I hesitate to take an ice pack from a near by paramedic. They were being sure to take care of me, but I was more focused on him.

 He wasn't looking good at all. I was terrified, being the cause of a death would crush me. That moment when he grabbed my hand, it was so forceful. But he must of felt the same connection that I had. This boy was more than just a boy. I think I may be developing feelings for him...No. no feelings only training, fuck him and fuck his asshole attitude.

 I don't have time for thoughts like these. I will be here to make sure he recovers, then I will cut off all connections I have with him. No point in making him another distraction. My wrist was in a lot of pain, it was broken. It was hanging limp, lifeless.

 I was going to be out of training for at least a month, my father is going to have my head. The paramedics give me a temporary wrap to hold my wrist in place. They also notice my few other injures that they tend to. The tears were still streaming down my face, I couldn't make them stop. I felt helpless, I am in the lead not my emotions. I wipe my eyes, and refuse to let another tear fall.

 I was stronger then that, I was going to be more then some teenage drama queen. A very large, angry man comes galloping in to raining center.

 He must be the owner. Shit he was going to chew us out. "What the hell have you two been thinking? If you do this thing out on the street the peacekeepers will throw you in the dc. This is a training center! we train to kill. We don't kill. Both of you- get out, get yourself looked at and come back on Monday to discuss the consequences!" He wails. I grab my stuff and walk briskly out the door.

 I debate on if I really was going to come back tomorrow. I'm not much for having to deal with big angry men, who I know can beat the living hell out of me. Then again he was older, maybe not to much of a challenge. Who am I kidding, I was going to be back. I had to be sure Matthew was doing okay.

[Jack Lexington]

Just when I'm ableto breathe somewhat normal again and the 'only' thing to deal with is the blood that won't stop flowing from where I bit my tongue and bone shaking yell makes us all jump.

Clearly we've pissed of the 'boss' something aweful. I've never seen the middle aged man this angry and loose in front of others. We're in a heap of trouble on top of the injuries we inflicted on each other.
Still hunched overI cringe and simply nod at his command before he stomps out of the gym again.

One of the medics whistles through his teeth while his hand goes to my back in support. "You've really done it. I've never seen him like this."

Once again I spit on the floor before straightening up and muttering something about 'alright'.

I catch a glimpse of the red head leaving the gym shortly after the man, who runs this places. Her arm#s in a sling but her hips are still swaying and she cast me one brief look. Is it hate, is it pity? I'm not sure but those feelings welling up inside of me are such a bizzare mixture of anger, attraction and absolute disgust that I can't make sense of them.

I need to leave. Now.

On somewhat shaky legs I follow her path....out of here, out of my mystery....not likely.