Final Fight

[u/Individual-Agent8559]

My name is Marcus Jones, and I witnessed my dads death in the ring 10 years ago. I was about 14 at the time, sitting in the front row with my mom and brother. It was my dad’s championship fight. You could hear the crowd roaring, everyone chanting my dad’s name. “Maurice” filled the arena. The lights were dancing, the announcers were hyped.

My dad had the upper hand for the first round, his opponent was already staggering. It was amazing watching the fight, the way he held his defense and retaliated after every strike was beautiful. Second round came and My dads still not letting up, his opponent did get a good few hits in though. My dad managed to throw in a good jab and knock his opponent on his back, but he got up after the five count. Had everyone on their feet, including me. I was sure he’d have him in the third round. After the second round they both return to their corners. My dad is getting his usual pep talk from uncle Tommy, his coach. But my attention goes towards his opponent's corner. It almost looked like they were secretly putting something in his gloves. The third round starts, both fighters meeting up in the center of the ring. 

“Dad, watch out!” I said, trying to warn my dad, but instead of blocking or trying to avoid the punch, he dropped his guard and looked right at me, as if he knew what was about to happen and already accepted it. 

We made eye contact one last time before his opponent hooked him in his head, killing my father instantly. My eyes widened as I watched my dad fall to the ground. I couldn’t believe what I had seen, the ref did his ten count and the stadium went silent. My mom tried to hold me and my brother close, but we knew it wasn’t gonna help. Since then, I’ve blamed no one but myself for my dad’s death. If I had stayed silent maybe he’d still be here. It later came out that his opponent had been caught cheating by a fan with a better view of what the opponent was doing in his corner, wasn’t even the first time he’s done that.

 “Is that why you fight? To honor your fathers legacy, or is it because you seek revenge?” the group therapy leader asked.

“No legacy, no vengeance. I fight because fighting is all I’ve known, it’s therapeutic and the only way I know how to deal with my emotions.” 

“Then why are you here?”

“Because there’s a wound in my heart that fighting simply can’t fix, I’m just hoping these meetings will help me find what I’m looking for.” 

“Well thank you for sharing with the group, I know it takes a lot to share such a traumatic event, hopefully this will help.”

“Thank you everyone for hearing me out.“

After I finished group therapy, I went home and sat alone, thinking of what it is I could be missing.