“And he’s a crowd favorite,” another chimes in. “Ladies and Gents, we have a great match for you tonight.”
In the center of the cage, a man wearing a suit grabs the mike that has dropped down from the ceiling. He holds on to it and starts to speak into it, but I can barely make out every other word as the crowd goes nuts.
“Whatever he’s saying, they’re liking,” I muse, taking a peek at Hunter. He’s gone quiet. Only, he’s not looking at the video. I catch him studying me. The unease inside of me grows, so I focus on the tablet again. “I’ll be okay. It’s not like I’ll—”
Hunter swipes his finger across the screen, speeding up the action. “Here’s the part I wanted you to see.”
As if in a dream, I watch as Hunter’s face comes into focus, as it contorts into a murderous rage, as his large fist draws back and hits his opponent, opened fist, upside the face.
The room seems to collapse in on itself as my vision narrows. All I see is Hunter hitting another human being. Hunter playing to the crowd as he gets in a good shot. Blood runs down his opponent’s chest, while Hunter remains unmarked.
“Oh my God,” I croak. I barely register the arms coming around me, warming my chilled skin.
Flesh pounds against flesh, and I fight the urge to puke. Now blood is on Hunter’s face. There’s a gash above his eye and he’s kicking his opponent in the chest.
Ramos goes down like a sack of potatoes.
Hunter pauses the video, but I can’t stop staring at him as he stands over his opponent, his face triumphant.
“That’s really you?”
“Yeah,” he says gruffly.
“All your cuts, your bruises…your black eye?”
He nods. “All from legal fights.”
Like I care that they’re legal. “I…I can’t believe you’ve been lying to me.”
He gives me a pleading look. “You don’t know how badly I wanted to tell you, or how much of an asshole I felt like for not telling you sooner.”
“Couldn’t have bothered you that much,” I snap.
“Swear it did, but I was afraid you would run, so I—”
“Decided to make the decision for me,” I finish. “Gee, thanks, Hunter.” I rub my hands up and down my arms, trying to warm up. “That’s not right. If I had known, then I would have…I probably would have done things differently when it came to you.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” His eyes fill with concern. “Oh, sweetheart. Don’t be afraid of me. I would never hurt you.”
“You already have and…” It hits me right then, straight in the heart. “Did you tell me that you love me hoping I’d go easier on you?”
“What kind of man do you think I am?”
“I don’t know, anymore.”
“Not fair, angel.” He takes the tablet away and sets it on the nightstand, then rolls on his side, facing me. “My dad made me start fighting when I was a kid. He liked telling his friends that I had a strong back and could hit harder than a lot of the guys. I didn’t like going there, hated that I was made to fight, and that if I didn’t win, I’d get the shit beat out of me….Worse, he’d take it out on my mom.”
“I didn’t know,” I whisper, shaking my head. My chest starts to ache, for me…for him. I’m on the verge of crying, but I don’t want to be vulnerable in front of him anymore. However, that doesn’t stop me from saying, “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be, sweetheart. It’s not your fault.” He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear. “Toward the end, things got really bad. He started drinking more, started hitting me and my mom for no reason at all….One day he goes off the deep end and attacks my mom. I come home from school and she’s on the floor, begging for someone to help her. She’s bleeding and he’s hitting her with a belt.
“He doesn’t stop, not even when I physically put myself over her. I take the beating, trying to defend her, and tell my dad to stop hurting us. That whatever happened, won’t happen again, you know?” His accent starts to thicken and he no longer sounds like the Hunter I’m used to. It’s almost like he’s that kid again. “My father, he doesn’t care. He laughs and laughs, then he smacks me across the face. Something inside of me breaks and I finally use my fists to get his attention. He lunges for me and I catch him on the jaw. He goes down like a pile of bricks and hits the corner of the brick mantle. Doesn’t move for a long time.”
“What happened after that?”
“Cops came. Took one look at my mom and me, and helped us out. Eventually, a judge ruled the cause of his death was self-defense. They sealed my file because I was a juvenile. We moved away from Forrestville. I got my shit together and applied for the police academy. Moved back about a month before I first met you. I’d like to say that I regret what went down, but I don’t. I know he would have killed my mom that time.”
“I don’t understand why you fight now, though,” I whisper.