Post by Wonder on Jun 7, 2024 17:23:49 GMT
Sometimes, I still hear his awful wail echoing through that old, dusty hall. Loud enough to bring everyone to a standstill. We were both seventeen, and I had begun making a name for myself on the local scene. In fairness, this wasn’t exactly a tall task. There weren’t a lot of girls my age who spent their free time frequenting BJJ gyms, let alone ones who had earned their purple belt.
Maybe that was part of the problem; I felt like I had a point to prove.
Liana had dropped me off earlier. Normally, she would stay and watch, but she had errands to run. Still, she was my motivation, especially on the dreaded days where all I wanted to do was crawl into bed and rot.
On this particular day, I rolled with Lucas Wright. He wasn’t a bad person. In fact, quite the opposite. He was lovely to that younger sister of his, who I would see around the gym occasionally, and he was good friends with many of the regulars.
Maybe the ease with which he forged friendships in comparison to myself is what got under my skin, especially as he started a year later than I. Perhaps I had mistaken his natural confidence and amicable nature as smugness, even though he gave me little reason to feel this way. I don’t even remember the moment I decided I had something against him. He had been like any other person to me. Kinder, even.
That didn’t save him from what happened next.
He was taller and heavier. Unfortunately for him that night, that’s where his advantages ended. I was known for being crafty and flexible when grappling. It was only a matter of time before I latched onto one of his long legs during a scramble, and wrapped myself tightly around it. Back at that old place, some jokingly referred to me as the Spider. They said it was because of how I would trap my “prey”, like I was wrapping them in a thick, inescapable web. I used to like it when they called me that.
When rolling, everyone knew you were supposed to protect your partner. That meant letting go of submissions early, and avoiding dangerous ones such as heel hooks and the like. Even with this knowledge, when I saw the opportunity to secure a knee bar, I did not waste a single moment. I saw his eyes widen, and then a small, sheepish smile on his face as he realized he was caught. I overestimated my own ability, so I added a little extra than I normally would, just to put some fear into him. I wanted to let him know that despite my quietness, despite my inability to make friends, and despite my reserved nature, that I was still dangerous. For whatever stupid reason, I so desperately desired that.
Turns out, I wasn’t as clinical in my exertion of force as I thought I was. His knee, buckling under the pressure, made that god-awful popping sound, and he screamed.
Oh, how the poor thing fucking screamed.
“Gotta be honest with you all, I’m a bit disappointed with how the rumble panned out. In a way, it feels like a missed opportunity. I had the element of surprise on my side. Nobody knew what I was really about. I entered later than most, late enough to avoid some of the big threats, and those grueling minutes spent with them that the earlier entrants would have had to get through, but still early enough to get some momentum going heading into those final, crucial moments.
“I was close. Most would say I made a good account of myself. That I should be proud. And while that’s true… I think I want more.
“That greedy of me to say? Probably. Only a couple months ago I was one missed paycheque away from being on the street. But I’m hungry, and I’m still waiting for my proper fill.
“Which brings me to you, Slamsley. What drives you? We’re similar in the sense that we’ve both been overshadowed by a family member, though mine I assume is a little less close to home than yours. Maybe like me as well, you see that as something positive. Something you can aim to match, or surpass. Though, and I hope you don’t mind me saying… your time might be a little past for that.
“Maybe if you were younger, hungrier, and not dividing your talents between two sports, you’d pose a greater threat. Instead, you’ve underachieved in both, now relegated to serving as a test by the commissioner to see if the rookie who shares the blood of one of the greatest modern-era talents has any of the same quality.
“Not to say it’ll be an easy task. Your size will pose problems. Your experience, even more so. But that’s nothing new to me. I’m almost always smaller. Almost always less experienced. It’s never stopped me from doing what I need to do.
“You’ll get your licks in, of that I have no doubt. You’ll throw me around from one side of the ring to another. If you’re lucky, or smart, you might even dump me on my head hard enough to shut the lights off, and then you’ll be the one who killed the hype. The one who put the second-coming of Lockhart wrestling dominance into an early grave.
“But I wager this’ll end differently. I’ll survive whatever you throw, and I’ll keep coming at you. Latching onto you. Eventually, I’ll find your neck. Or your arm. Your heel. Your ankle. Your knee. Your shoulder. I’ll find something, and I’ll crank it. Your size will make it difficult, but I’ll find a way. An opening will show up, and if you don’t end me quick enough, I’ll be sure to take advantage.
“From there, size won’t matter. Once on the ground, that’s my territory. My playground. My safe haven. For you? It’ll be a living nightmare. But a short-lived one. Once you tap, it’s over. Don’t hold on, I don’t want things to get nasty. I’ve seen enough of that in my time.
“You’ll tap. I’ll let go, and maybe we can even shake hands after. You might even end up respecting me. I know I respect you, Slamsley. I don’t think I’ll last till my 40s in this business.
“But I’ll last long enough to make my name burn bright. And it all starts with you. Best of luck.”
I released the submission, my stomach dropping as I realized what I had done. For a moment, I hovered over him, watching in horror as he slammed his hand to the mat in agony, an almost inhumane noise escaping his throat. Vitor and Matteo, our instructors, had rushed over to either side of him now.
“Oh my god, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.” The words spilled out, over and over again. More people circled us now. My eyes formed with tears, face falling into my hands. I had watched and been part of enough competitive grappling to know that sound most likely meant a snapped ligament. Many never came back the same from those.
I shut off. I wished the ground would open up and swallow me whole to relieve me from the horrid scene. Partly to get away from his cries, the other because I knew that once the commotion was over, everyone would look at me differently.
A strong arm wrapped itself around my shoulders, guiding me out of the crowd. I looked up and saw Harry, covered in sweat from his own drills, powerful jaw clenched as he glanced down at me. His expression softened as he ushered me over to a bench to sit down, brow furrowed in concern.
‘You good?’ he asked, while he knelt in front of me and wiped away my tears. I stared numbly ahead, unresponsive. How could I even begin to explain what had happened? What had been going through my mind? Harry had known me for 7 years, since he and Liana had started dating when they were both 17. Besides her, he was my biggest supporter. He loved me like a younger sister. Yet the insecurity ran through my mind that if I opened up to him, revealing how I had been trying to scare Lucas, make him fear and respect me… that he would think of me as some sort of monster.
So instead of saying anything, I wept into his chest. Ridiculous, how I so easily ruined someone else, yet ended up as the one in tears. Regardless, Harry wrapped his arms around me, pressing his lips to the top of my head.
“Oh, Aut. It’s okay, sweetie. Don’t cry. It’s not your fault.’ The words were filled with earnest warmth. Harry was an honest man. Too honest for someone like me. I knew he meant the words, believing in them with every fiber of his being.
That’s why I didn’t have the heart to tell him how wrong he was.
They remained at the gym for another hour. Lucas’ parents had whisked him home, taking with them Vitor’s advice to get an MRI performed as soon as possible. Vitor, who had been a physiotherapist in his 20s and early 30s, surmised that there was most probably a torn meniscus, and potentially more. Still, he told Autumn that Lucas, like many others before him, could make a full recovery.
Those reassurances did little to ease her discomfort.
Her head rattled against the chilled, rain-stained window, which blurred the traffic and headlights that beamed at Harry’s pickup. He hummed along to a soft, synthetic instrumental playing from his bluetooth. Her stomach twisted in on itself, knotting at the thought of telling Harry what she had felt before she had destroyed Lucas’ knee. She forced down a swallow, then broke the silence.
‘Might take a break from the gym.’ The words were soft, as though she had let an idle thought out to be carried by the night’s wind. Harry glanced over at her, eyebrow raised, while keeping track of the road ahead.
‘That’s really what you want?’ Harry asked, amused.
‘Well, no. But…” She struggled to find the right words. Her fingers curled inward, scratching lightly up and down the palms of her hands.
‘You think everyone’s gonna hold it against you,’ he asserted. She gave a small nod, which he mirrored. Then, to her surprise, he shrugged.
‘So what if they do? You can’t control how they feel, Aut. That’s on them.’ He pressed on the accelerator, overtaking a slow-moving car ahead of them. The lights ahead then turned red, he let the car roll to a stop as he clicked his tongue, before shooting another look at her. ‘It was an accident. What’s done is done, you know?’
‘What, you don’t feel bad for him?' Autumn asked, without thinking. She immediately regretted the question as she saw Harry squint, betraying the offense he tried to hide at the question. She averted his gaze. ‘Dumb question, sorry.’
He let out a slow, deep exhale, then rested his hand on her shoulder.
‘Course I feel bad, anyone with half a heart would feel for him. But you and Li will always come first. You know that.’ He gave her shoulder a quick squeeze, smiling at her. ‘Besides, I’m not gonna let you sit there and feel all sorry for yourself, thinking you can run off and quit now because you made a mistake.’
Her eyes widened at his words, making his smile grow.
‘Didn’t say a thing about quitting.’
‘It’s what you’re thinking though, no?’ he asked. She pretended to analyse something that stretched along the poorly lit road before them. A moment of quiet, as she fought the instinct that told her to keep from speaking. Another hard swallow, then she mumbled:
‘What if I’m not welcome back?’
Harry considered her for a moment, then began chuckling.
‘So what? We’ll find somewhere else.’
Finally, she allowed herself a small smile, followed by a languid stretch in her seat.
Maybe things would work out after all.
She sat idly in the gym’s corner, her breathing ragged as she blinked through dripping sweat. The new training space was unfamiliar to her. The way its walls were unblemished and uncracked. The ceiling stretched far higher. The equipment was not battle-tested or ravaged the way she was used to. These minor inconsistencies she could have easily lived with, had Liana and Harry been there watching her.
NPWA had given her a second chance at living. She had some money now. She had already competed in front of more people than she had ever known. Some people even acknowledged her. There were messages on her phone from friends of the past. Family too.
The loneliness still permeated her being, leaving her numb.
My friend, do you fly away now?
To a world that abhors you and I?
All that awaits you is a somber morrow
No matter where the winds may blow