One on one

Stay away. It’s not worth it. Don’t give him the space.

Rachel looked down at her phone, eyes shining with thick tears that threatened to spill over. She leaned against the wall outside her gym, still a little bit too early for the opening hour. The text was from her friend, Jessica, who hadn’t really slept out of fear for Rachel’s safety. Living with an abusive father was difficult – especially when one left home secretly.

I know. But I’m scared for my mum.

Rachel hit send, the tear falling.

“Did you camp outside?!” The jovial tone of Michael, the gym’s owner, made Rachel look up. She wiped her eyes discreetly beneath her hood as she took out her earbuds which played no music, just served as a shield for people speaking to her in the street. Rachel pasted a mask on her face, a smile that hid everything happening.

Everything except for the black eye she’d received the night before.

“Ha, no – the bus was just a bit faster than normal.”

“Who gave you that?” Michael gestured to the black eye as he lifted the shutters on the gym and unlocked the door.

“Sparring. I can’t remember who.” A rueful smile completed the lie. Michael shook his head.

“You’re carnage, Rachel. Come on. In. You can help while you’re here.” Rachel didn’t say no. She liked helping Michael set up, because he never really needed to speak to her. They just knew what needed to be done, what needed to be set up, opened, laid out for members... and it made some time pass fast, too. Time she didn’t have to think about him, or what he could or would do once he figured out where she’d gone.

A little while later, Rachel was on the treadmill, working her way through some sprints before Jessica’s arrival. They trained together, but since Rachel was working to become a trainer herself, she practiced on Jessica – and she was good at it, too. A series of eight-hundred metre sprints, with walking in between. She felt good, strong, powerful... and as her legs worked beneath her, she forgot about how angry and frustrated she felt the night before. Even the throb of her cheekbone had faded, giving way to the burn in her quads and hamstrings, the ache of her lungs from breathing too heavily... it was a drug, when she finished the last one. And when Jessica walked into the gym, the smile Rachel gave her was genuine.

“Hey, warrior,” Jessica grinned, leaning on the support of the treadmill as Rachel slowed to a walk. “Are you actively training for the Invasion of the Ottoman Empire?”

“How did you guess?” Rachel rolled her eyes, but her smile was still there. And then, tears. Tears came. “Shut up. Stop.” More to herself than to Jessica.

“Come on. Changing rooms. We can talk.” Rachel gave her a look, but Jessica shook her head. “And I’m not training until you’ve let it all out.”

“I’ve been couch-surfing,” Rachel said, staring off into space. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying properly. “Just while I look for a place. I think I’ve found somewhere, but I don’t want him to know where I am. I’m just sick of being afraid all the time.” She ran a hand over her hair. Jessica pressed her lips together, looking down. “Last night, he went off more than usual. And he hadn’t been drinking... I’d gone back to get some stuff, but he’d already come home from the pub. I couldn’t avoid him... and then my mum tried to stop him, and he gave her what he gave me.” Rachel gestured to her eye. “I’m angry, Jess. Angry that I can’t stop him. Angry that I can’t hurt him as much as he’s hurting me and my mum.”

“But you can defend yourself!” Jessica insisted. “You’re a fighter, Rach! Come on – you’ve got the skills!”

“I just... I froze up.” Rachel let the tears fall again. “And I think I’m angry at myself for that, too. For freezing.”

Her mind presented her with the memory of being in a sparring session with her personal coach, when he’d told her that she couldn’t freeze up in the middle of a fight because she’d suffer. Never give the other person the upper hand, Rachel. You give them control, they win no matter how hard you fight to get it back. She’d had a clearer head, back then.

“Rach?” Jessica was looking at her, eyes concerned. Rachel refocused. “I said, it’s normal to freeze up. He’s your dad. He’s not an opponent in the ring.”

“Yeah... but he’s not, is he? A dad isn’t supposed to do this shit.” Rachel sat back against the wall, shaking her head. “Yours doesn’t.”

“You’re right.” Jessica patted Rachel on the knee. “So if it comes down to it again...” She didn’t want to say it aloud, but the intention of when was there. “...you react. You don’t feel back for putting him on the floor.” The look on Jessica’s face was the fortifying boost Rachel needed. “You do what you need to do to survive.” Rachel nodded, wiping tears from her eyes again.

Rachel’s life wasn’t easy, but while she was in the metaphorical forest, trying to stay hidden from a viciously feral wolf, the universe did keep throwing her boons. The first came in the form of a studio apartment, sparsely furnished, but affordable on her small salary. The second came quickly after; her trainer, Ben, knew the owner, and so it was agreed that Rachel could forgo the deposit. Ben vouched for her, and that saved her.

“I owe you everything, Ben,” Rachel said, as Ben gave her a moment to rest up. They were doing padwork, and Rachel felt good. “I’ve been living out of a suitcase on friends’ floors. Yours was next.”

“I would have been honoured to have you on my floor.” Ben smiled. “Nah, you’re welcome, Rach. Anything I could do to get you away from him.” Rachel looked down. Over the week after her dad had hit her, her black eye had bloomed out quite large. Perhaps a fractured cheekbone, she’d thought one morning… But not so serious, thankfully. Rachel hugged him, closing her eyes. “Hey! Hey, it’s alright.”

“You’ve saved my life, Ben. Really.” She stepped back, adjusting the wraps on her hands. “I can never repay that.”

“Win this fight for me, then,” Ben grinned. “That’ll be payment enough.”

“I’ll try.”

The session after that was fun, Ben pushing her faster and faster. And then, with ten minutes left… sparring. Just as Jessica walked in for the women’s class.

“Aha! Jessica, get over here! You can put Rachel through her paces.”

“I’m cold, Ben,” Jessica groaned, throwing her bag down. “Let me warm up quick.”

“Or come and time us, then.” Ben handed Jessica his phone, smiling. A 3-minute timer was up, waiting. Jess took it, and Ben pulled his gloves on as Rachel climbed into the ring. “Ready?”

“Never. I hate sparring you. You’re the worst.”

“Show me what you can do, then.”

“You taught me everything I damn well know!” Rachel hissed, putting her mouthguard in.

“I did,” Ben grinned, doing the same. “That’s why I want you to best me. You know everything I know.” He licked his mouthguard, hitting his gloves together. “C’maaaaan!”

“Ready?!” Jess called, smiling. Her own phone was ready to record video. “FIGHT!” she pressed the timer, hit record on her phone, and watched as Rachel darted forward, throwing combos at Ben who ducked and dodged out of the way.

“Good, good!” Ben coached, as Rachel hit him perfectly with one. A kick, followed by another combination, finished with a strong left-middle kick. “YES!” Ben jabbed out at her, hitting her expertly.

Almost halfway in, Ben caught her right where her father had hit her. All at once, the trauma from that night came back.

You sly, sneaking little vile whore bitch! You want to leave?! After everything I’ve fucking done for you, you want to leave?! Run away so you don’t have responsibilities?! Fucking awful bitch! Just like your weak mother!

Round and round, the words spat at her circled her mind.

“Come on, Rach! Give it to me! Do what you’ve got to do!” And she couldn’t do it. Ben sent a kick, and then caught her in the face again.

She crumbled, sinking to her knees and sobbing. Ben stopped, pulling his gloves off.

“STOP IT!” Rachel cried, chest heaving. “JUST STOP IT! I CAN’T DO IT!”

“Hey! Hey! You’re alright! You’re fine!” Ben breathed, kneeling beside her. He removed her gloves as Jessica stepped in, taking hold of her tightly. Ben pulled the guard from her mouth before she curled into Jessica properly. Rachel descended into something unlike anything she’d ever felt before. Like she was dying… but without the death.

Eventually, she stopped crying, and sat there against the wall, sullen. Ben had tidied the gym stuff away as the ladies for the women’s class came in and started getting ready. Jessica stayed with her, though, wrapping her own hands for the class.

“I’m sorry,” Rachel whispered. “For this.”

“You’ve nothing to apologise for.”

“I’m scared, Jess. The fight’s next week, I’m moving into a studio… what if he comes for me again? What if I freeze up? It’s too much.” Rachel picked at the Velcro of her glove. “I’m going to step out of the fight. I can’t do it.”

“You’ve worked years for this,” Jessica murmured, pressing the Velcro on her wrap closed. She turned to Rachel, eyes gentle as Ben joined them. “You’ve worked so, so hard for this, despite him.”

“So now it’s time for you to win this in spite of him,” Ben said, sitting down too. “He’ll try to stop you. He always has… but now it’s time for you to stop him.”

“And if I lose it up there?” Rachel asked.

“Then you freeze, you get knocked out, you take the L. And we watch the footage back together and learn where you went wrong.” Ben offered a smile. “But what if you win?”

“The way I’m feeling, I won’t.” She sniffed. “I’m genuinely terrified, Ben. He could kill me. He could kill my mum…”

“Rachel…” Jessica said softly.

“I know how hard it is to move to a completely different place and feel like you have no clue what you’re doing,” Ben said quietly. “And I know what it’s like to run away from violence, too. This is what happens, Rach. This is what it looks like. It eats you… and you have to let it. You have to give it a limb, or a finger. But then you grow it back, stronger, and you never give anyone another limb ever again, because you learn what you have to do to stop them before they get to that point. My violence came from my brother. Older, hateful. My dad died when I was younger, so he took the role of patriarch. And it was the worst thing ever, because he didn’t want me to be alive, since dad loved me so much more, in his eyes. So I left. I started leaving slowly, and then I left. But before I got away for the last time, he gave me the beating I thought would kill me.” Rachel stared at Ben, her eyes soft, lips parted with horror.

“Ben…”

“He didn’t kill me, though. I managed to get away before he could. I recovered in an alley somewhere far from my house, only my camping bag on my back… and then I got on a bus, covered in blood, and went to the train station. And then I went to the airport, and I came here. So when I tell you that you’ll be fine, that you’ll do it, it’s because I can see the same strength in you to get out like I did. The same strength that will push you through not just this fight…” he cupped her face gently. “But through whatever fight is going on inside here. Behind those eyes.” More tears fell, and Rachel lunged forward and hugged him tightly.

“I didn’t know…”

“I never planned on telling you,” Ben chuckled. When Rachel pulled away, he smiled at her. “Even if you lose the fight in the ring, it’ll change you. I promise. You know I’d tell you to step out if I thought you needed that.” Rachel nodded. “Now. Get this class done, then go home, stretch, eat, and sleep.”

“Get up.”

The voice that woke her was her own. Rachel was alone in the gym, the punchbags still, the place silent. Only the lights in the ring were on.

“I said, get up.”

It was her voice. Rachel, calling to Rachel. In the ring, a figure stood, gloves on, face shrouded in darkness. Rachel sat up from her place in the middle of the mats, her head fuzzy. What had happened…? She looked at herself in the mirror: no blood. On her hands, her wraps, but done so perfectly, so neatly…

“There we go…”

“Who are you?” Rachel asked, turning to face the ring. She climbed to her feet, knees shaking.

“Scared?” the figure asked. Rachel found herself nodding. “Good. You should be. Because this has been a long time coming. Pathetic.”

“Who are you?!” Rachel asked again, her voice a little firmer.

“Why don’t you bring those fat little elephant legs over here and find out? Or are you tired already? Your father always said you needed to lose some weight. He was fucking right.”

“Shut – up – what?!” Rachel was confused. The figure stayed in the middle of the ring, laughing. “Shut the fuck up! My father was wrong!”

“Was he? You know, it’s Thai pads, not Pad Thai – clearly you got those mixed up!”

“If you don’t fucking stop,” Rachel began.

“You’ll what? Come in here? Cry at me? Been doing a lot of that lately, haven’t you?” The figure laughed again, and Rachel stood her ground.

“Leave it alone.”

“No. Honestly, you look in the mirror every single day and tell yourself that you’re strong? You’re a fucking weak mess! Look at you! How old, still single, living on your own in a nasty little studio! Friends who can’t be bothered to spend time with you –“

“Jessica loves me. Stop.”

“HA, yeah, because she feels fucking sorry for you! And Ben? Ben, who you dream about at night? He pities you too. You heard him – he sees himself in you, but not in the way you want him to be.” Cackling laughter. Rachel grew irate. “Because no man will ever see themselves in you. You’re not worth it. Your dad’s been trying to tell you that for years, but little miss Online Therapy couldn’t hack being mediocre.”

“Stop.”

“Maybe you should have taken five boxes of paracetamol when you were a kid.” More laughter. Rachel ground her teeth. “God knows, you’d have made life easier for your poor mother. Defending you only ever got her hurt. Without you, she’d be fucking safe!”

“I SAID STOP!”

Before Rachel knew what was happening, she was in the ring, gloves on, shinguards on, throwing punches – and the figure in front of her met every single one of them, punch for punch, kick for kick. It was an elegant, angry dance, until the figure got Rachel pinned against the ropes in a clinch.

“Give it up,” Rachel hissed, trying to throw knees at the same time as the figure. “Who the fuck are you?!” The figure threw her back and gave her a strong hook right to the face, stepping away with a leering laugh. As Rachel looked up, reeling, her throbbing jaw fell slack.

It was herself.

Rachel looked at herself, but this version was haggard, dark circles under the eyes, gaunt in the face. Her lips were dry, hair lank and greasy… everything Rachel saw herself as, every moment of the day. As Rachel stared, Ben’s voice came back to her.

You’ll do it. I can see the same strength in you to get out like I did. The same strength that will push you through not just this fight…” he cupped her face gently. “But through whatever fight is going on inside here. Behind those eyes.

Rachel stood up, leaning against the ropes. She straightened up, squaring herself against herself.

“You can win that fight,” Dark Rachel breathed. “You can run from daddy… but you’ll never, ever be able to beat me, sweetheart… I’ll always win…”

Rachel surged forwards.

Dark Rachel surged forwards.

Both dodged punches, kicks, jabs, back into that elegant dance of dodging and blocking… but the hooks they both threw connected. Dark Rachel fell backwards, into shadow, fading. Rachel fell backwards too, against the corner post, sliding down, a grin on her face as she clung to consciousness.

The lights rose, and a pair of hands grabbed her shoulders, shaking her lightly. Someone else wiped sweat from her brow, and Ben pulled the mouthguard from her mouth. Someone tipped water into her mouth. Rachel swallowed, staring at the spot in the distance where that Dark part of herself had vanished.

Never again, she thought, closing her eyes with a bloody grin. Never a-fucking-gain…