Broken (3 page)

I was headed to the library, and
was surprised to find he stayed with me the whole way. He may be a glutton for
punishment after all.

“Please, Natalie?”

“Why do you want me to hang out
with you?”

“I like you, and I think if you
lightened up, you would actually have some fun with me.”

I snorted, “Jet, please, I don't
need to lighten up. I'm really not interested. It's not even so much you. I'm
not interested in anyone right now.”

“That's the best news I have
heard all day, and here I thought it was just me you hated.”

“Oh, well then, I'm glad to
brighten your day.”

We arrived at the library, and I
thought with no small amount of amusement, that there was no way a guy like Jet
would be caught dead in a library where souls arrived to study. He was just a
stupid jock; no real depth going on inside him, and I wouldn't be caught dating
him, either. What the hell would the two of us talk about? That's why he
couldn't be genuinely interested in me; it just didn't make sense for us to
start dating.

“What do you say, Natalie, hang
out with me sometime?”

I was in a hurry to get in the
library to study, so I pushed through the doors, and yelled over my shoulder,
“Maybe ... sometime. Bye.”

“Well I'll take that. It's good
enough for me.”

I didn't look back as I heard the
door close behind me, and thanked God he hadn't followed me in. I looked around
for a table in a quiet area. When I found one way in the back of the library, I
settled there and got down to studying. I started taking my books back out of
the bag, and lined them up on the table.
Here I go again
, I thought. I
refused to think about that imbecile; all I wanted was to focus on my studies
for the time being.

Chapter Four

Jet

I headed into the university's
state-of-the-art training centre, and strode to the locker rooms. There were a
lot of guys training that afternoon, and the air in the room was electric with
spirit and energy. Many guys were preparing for their own upcoming fights. We
had a strong team for the school, and in the past two years had brought back
many medals and trophies.

I opened my locker door, and
grabbed my hand wraps. I also grabbed shin pads and MMA gloves. I wasn't sure
what training entailed that day, but I had to be prepared for anything. I went
out to where the boys were training, and sat on the bench to watch. As I
watched my teammates boxing or grappling, I started to wrap my hands. It wasn't
something that I did all the time; it was really unnecessary for experienced
fighters, but I liked the tightness of it. It made me feel in control of my own
hands. I began putting my thumb through the wrap hole, and began wrapping
against my knuckles, then against my palm, down my wrist and then over and over
again until the wrap ended, at which point I secured it. I started on the other
hand as I watched the fighters, wondering what was in store for me that day.

My coach was just finishing up
with one of my teammates. I saw him slapping the guy on the shoulder,
congratulating him on a good fight session. He was a good coach, strong and
dedicated to all the students that went through the MMA training program.

I spent a lot of time in the
gym―more than I liked, but I planned on being a champion, so this was all
part of the lifestyle of a fighter. You killed yourself for the chance at
greatness, which was something that not everyone had a taste of. I lived for
MMA―there was just no sport like it, and I thrived on it. I trained
daily, always working on something different so that I never overworked or
strained a body part. An injury was the last thing I needed, so my trainer was
always careful to keep me fluid in one way or another. The goal was to master
your craft, not destroy your body to the point where it could no longer perform
properly. If you did, your MMA career was over, and no one wanted that.

I watched as my coach, Robbie,
came over, all smiles, ready to kill me another day. “Hey, Jet. How's your day
going?”

“You know me; always ready to
kill it.”

“How do you feel?”

“Good. Really good; I slept like
a baby last night.”

“That's what I like to hear. Need
you full of energy for your upcoming
fight.
”

“Yeah, it's not far off now. I
can't wait, man. I'm bringing home another medal.”

“Hell yeah,” Robbed laughed. “You
are so ready for this, man. I’ve got complete faith in you. You’ll bring the
house down.”

That is what I loved about
Robbie; he knew how to get your head in the game. He was behind his guys 110%,
and he fought just as hard for a win as we all did. He was an amazing trainer,
and one hell of a guy.

“You ready to get started, then?”

“Yeah, of course.
What's up first?”

“Let's start with the heavy bag
rounds; work on your striking.”

I put on my gloves, and we headed
over to the bags, he set a timer and we got into it. It was a great workout
when my coach had me working heavy bag rounds. It was the best possible cardio
exercise available. It burned straight through you, and if you could work hard
in the gym―really kill yourself―then the fights were easy. Training
is where you burn yourself out; that way, you are ready for the fight, and you
won't tire out. Many people didn't realize that as they spent hours on the
treadmill. You could burn far more calories in less time by doing heavy bag
rounds. It was
a more
intense endurance training than
just running.

It would be a tough day, as I
would be worked to exhaustion. Heavy bag rounds consisted of ten two-minute
rounds that mimicked a fight sequence. I had to throw everything I knew, such
as elbows, spinning back kicks, punches and knees. I had to use speed and
accuracy to insure that not only was I quick, but powerful. You could only be
powerful if your technique was on the
nose,
otherwise
you were just a sloppy fighter. I had to complete all ten rounds with no break
and no water. If I survived, I would be awarded a water break that lasted no
more than a minute.

I began my rounds and threw
combinations of jabs, rights and hooks, all landing in a
pop, pop, pop
motion,
knuckles engaging with the bag in one fluid motion. I didn't think of anything
else but my imaginary opponent. I stayed focused, sweat pouring off of me as I
handled round after round. My trainer stood in the corner, coaching me on where
to throw, reminding me of what I needed to work on.

My last strike hit hard as the
bell went off. I was dripping sweat on the mats, my shirt drenched, but I felt
exhilarated.

“Good job, Jet. You stayed
focused, you dug deep. That's what you want, man. When it comes to winning,
sometimes you need to dig deep. Fight through the pain, Jet, and you will
always be a winner. Now go get a drink of water, and then meet me back here for
pad work.”

I headed for the water cooler.
Once there, I grabbed a bottle of water, and drank half of it without blinking
an eye. I needed to be careful; I loved the cool, quenching taste of water, but
too much of it could cause me to cramp up in a fight. I wiped the sweat off my
brow with my shirt. I practiced my breathing to slow down my heart rate.
Breathe in slowly through the nose, and out through the mouth. Do that a few
times and your heart rate slows right down. It refreshes your body to allow you
to keep going.

I headed back to where Robbie was
holding the pad. At the last minute he decided to do pad work with me in the
ring for two rounds.

“Feeling lucky?”

“Pad work is where I always win,
Robbie; you know that.”

He chuckled, and held up a large
Thai pad in front of his body, and when the bell rang we would spar. The
purpose of the exercise was for me to avoid being cornered. I would have to
throw whatever I could at the pads, keeping my opponent off of me, and ensuring
I would not be pushed in the corner. It was the trainer’s job, however, to
apply pressure, and force me into the corner. The exercise proved to be
exhausting, but highly effective, because if you could build up enough
endurance with someone's body weight on you, a real fight should be a piece of
cake. It was also why weight training was important. If your opponent was strong
and you were not, then you would never be able to push his weight off of you.
It was highly important to have balance in training, and weights certainly had
their place. We only did a few rounds of those, because it could take the life
out of you and we had much more work to do.

“Alright, kiddo, good work. You
really fought me off in there, that's what I like to see.”

“Hell yeah.”

“Let's get the focus mitts and
work on your technique.”

We got out of the ring, and
headed for the mats again. I took a moment to grab some water and breathe a bit
while he fetched focus mitts from the back room. He returned quickly; however,
he didn't want to allow me to cool down.

“Let's go!”

Next, Robbie had me do more pad
work, but this time with focus mitts. Using focus mitts forced a fighter to use
good technique, or risk missing the pad completely. All that you could hear
across the gym was the
pop, pop, pop
of my gloves hitting the pads. We
did five rounds of that, and ended our day in the cage. He had me do two rounds
of light sparring to get a feel for how I was doing. At this point, I really
needed to dig deep as a fighter, because I was gassed. It was a hard training
session that just seemed never-ending. When our round ended, he invited in a
freshmen teammate who was not part of the starting squad.

“Hey, Josh, come in here and spar
with Jet. You might as well get your feet wet. Don't go hard on him though,
Jet.”

I just nodded.

The sparring rounds were good,
and kept me on my toes. It was an excellent way for me to see where my
weaknesses were. I was also allowed to use all my tricks. I could keep the
fight going as a stand-up, or I could take it to the ground. It all depended on
how the fight went, and what my opponent's weaknesses were.

The kid wasn't bad for a freshman,
but he had a lot to learn. He would get there though, they always did. We ended
our round, and touched gloves before the kid headed out of the ring. I took my
gloves off, and got out of the ring myself. I sat down on one of the benches
and took off my shin pads. I was taking my gear off, but my workout was not
complete. We still had weight training, and we’d be focusing on back and
biceps. I grabbed a quick rinse, and followed Robbie to the weight area.

We did a series of back exercises
that left my muscles shaking and then proceeded into bicep curls in various
ways. We went to muscle failure, where my arms felt like jelly, and I wondered
if I would be able to pick up a coffee mug the next day.

By the time I was done training,
I felt jacked and ready to get into a fight. It was only a matter of time.

“You're all done for the day,
Jet. Go relax, have some fun.
But not too much fun.”

I laughed as I headed to the
locker room to grab my bag. I put away my gloves and gear, and shut the locker
door. I heaved my bag over my shoulder and got the hell out of the training
center before Robbie found something else for me to do.

Chapter Five

Natalie

It was a beautiful day for the
art walk, and I was in my own private art tent, setting up. I had arrived a little
late, due to a terrible night’s sleep. I had to get my showcase set up, and the
show was opening up in less than an hour. I began by hanging my drawings, one
by one. They were all in a particular theme, and it was important to set them
up in such a way to allow the viewer to understand exactly what I had in mind
when I drew them. From there, I put up my pastels, and finished with
watercolor. I only showcased my best work, as I considered myself a serious
artist.

One of my classmates, Brenda,
showed up with a cup of coffee, and I almost kissed her for it.

Having my work showcased for the
entire city to see was an exciting opportunity for me. Not only did I get a
chance to make a local name for myself, but I got to make a quick buck.
Students need more opportunities to make quick cash, and although I doubted
that I would sell out that day, at least I would have some pocket change.

I proudly stood aside as people
came in and out of my tent, looking at the paintings and drawings up for show.
I was particularly good at drawing with ink, the kind of ink right out of a
bottle. I also specialized in watercolors and pastel drawings. It was an
incredible feeling to create something out of nothing. To put ink to paper
without a thought in mind, and have an inkling of an idea take shape on paper,
and turn it into something incredibly inspiring that would move a person so
much that she needed to buy it and hang it in her own home.

I said hi to a woman who arrived
with a little girl in tow. The little girl had been gazing dreamily at a
painting of mine with
a moon
lighting up a
streetscape. She couldn't keep her eyes off of it. My heart filled at the
thought that someone so young found something compelling in one of my
paintings.