It was too much. He drags himself out of the ring, vision blurry and head throbbing. Barely making it to the locker room, he collapses on the bench. He couldn’t let anyone see him in this pathetic state. ‘Man up,’ a harsh voice knocks some life back into him. He didn’t know how, but it was enough to scare him. Knees cracking, he scrambles to stuff his belongings into his bag before bolting out of the gym.
Door slamming open, he throws his bag to the side. Washing his blood-stained clothing didn’t matter. For he was already a mangled mess. Stumbling towards the liquor cabinet, he takes a swipe at the biggest bottle to uncork it, preparing to numb his ailing body and broken mind. He could lie to himself but his condition couldn’t. He hated to admit it – his movements were slower, less powerful than his younger counterparts. His glory days were a thing of a past, retirement was getting nearer.
But what was he going to do? He would have laughed it off – if he didn’t have a family. All his life, he had dedicated himself to the ring. The only thing he knew he was good at was using his body, his fists. There was nothing waiting for him outside the ring. Just a scary monster named society. Hot liquor rushing down his throat, his body feels like it’s on fire.
A miserable chuckle. What would his young son think of him? His Dad, stronger than Superman, faster than Flash – surrounded by miserable empty bottles. Time slows down as he remains paralyzed on the floor, senses completely dulled. It feels like a lifetime when he hears the front doors unlock, keys jingling merrily at the side before clattering to the wooden floor.
She’s at his side, assessing the damage on the face. It should have been painful, but he barely flinches as the cloth comes into contact with his bruised eye. She doesn’t say anything, quietly attending to his fresh wounds. Letting him lean his full weight onto her as they toddle towards the room, he gets a glimpse of the creases on her face.
He settles into the warm inviting sheets, fog in his head starting to clear. She briefly sets the bottles and soiled clothes on one side, sitting at the edge of the bed. Again, she says nothing. Just her hands in his. How he wished for her to say something, anything – to scream at him for being weak, a coward when he had a family.
‘We’ll get through this. Together.’
Turning his head slowly towards her, he feels the grip on his hand tighten. He stares at her, waiting for her to disappear into dust – but she remains. His heart feels lighter than it has ever been for once, strain in his chest slowly unravelling. His vision turns blurry again but it clears with the nod of her head.
He lets it all out. Racked sobs filling the room, he props himself up with difficulty. He reaches out for her, inhaling her familiar and welcoming flowery scent. He holds onto her tighter, a non-verbal apology for what he thought was the best for everyone. His body could not keep up in the ring, it was time for him to throw in the towel, and he was damaged – both physically and mentally. But there was one thing he knew – he didn’t need to put up a façade with his family, the people closest to him. He knew that he would get through this, for he had people who loved him.
Genevieve Ang | About the Author
I’m currently studying a degree in social work with a minor in English language. I like to write in my spare time and share it with people on my social media platform @themagicalgene! I love the idea of being able to use the art of writing to convey what one is passionate about! With a blank sheet of paper, I hope to spread some love, positivity and hope among trying times :)
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