Sick Heart: A Dark MMA Fighter Romance

In the kitchen I start the rice in the cooker and then lean against the counter, wishing I had started cooking before washing up so I didn’t have to wait for it.

To waste time, I go out onto the training floor, kinda looking for Anya, but not finding her. So she didn’t follow me down here. She probably senses my uneasiness and wants to stay as far away from me as she can. That’s how I’d be feeling if I were her.

And wasn’t I her once upon a time? Didn’t I walk around like that? Afraid of everything. Every too-loud noise. Every strange face in a crowd where all others were known. Every hushed whisper of my name in the night.

My call to duty.

I shudder with the thought of it. No. Not the thought of it. The memory of it.

I don’t like thinking back on it. And I think this is why I don’t like this girl.

She’s pretty enough to look at. But I learned early—very early—that beauty is deception. If there is one thing you do not want to be in this world we live in, it’s beautiful. If you’re beautiful, they notice you. It’s never good to be noticed in this world we live in.

I turn to the empty wall of the small building housing the kitchen, the clinic, and the toilets and in that moment, I wish they were all here with me. Because if Maart, and Rainer, and Evard, and the others were here, this last punishment would be over. And even though I like it out here—I really do—I don’t want to be here with this girl.

She bothers me. There is something about her that is very, very wrong.

And I can’t put my finger on it. I don’t want to put my finger on it. But at the same time, I want those secrets she hides behind her silence.

I know I earned my freedom. And Udulf admitted that I paid for myself and three people—Maart, Rainer, and Evard—just not four. Not Anya. So he’s not backing out.

But still. I have no guarantees and nothing to hold over him if he changes his mind. If he should find some unpaid bill. Some debt on my balance sheet.

Knowing Anya’s secret would go a long way in guaranteeing that in four months this whole life I’ve lived will be nothing but the remnant of a nightmare.

When the rice is done I drop in the freeze-dried protein, stir it up, and then split the ration in half with a sigh. I’m losing weight. It shouldn’t matter. There are no more fights in my future and plenty of feasts coming up, but just the idea of losing muscle mass triggers a panic inside me that isn’t easily tamed.

The Rock gets stocked with food once a year. When the training camp beings. We bring as much as we can and then we ration it to make it last. But I always come out here by myself at least once at Udulf’s command. So when we leave camp, there needs to be just enough to get me through until the supply ship comes again.

Anya wasn’t supposed to be here. There is just not enough food for both of us.

But whatever. It can’t be helped. I’m not going to let her starve.

I take the two bowls, climb the stairs up to the top platform, and find her sitting on the edge, feet dangling over. There’s a low, steel-beam railing that lines that side of the helipad with just enough room to slip your legs underneath and dangle them off the edge. And it’s funny that she chose that spot, because that’s where I like to eat too.

The steel beam is wide enough to be a table. And when the kids are out here, they will all fight for a spot at the beam when it’s chow time.

I smile at that, then push the thought aside. They’re not my problem either. They’re all just like Anya. Lucky as fuck that they ended up with me and not someone like Pavo.

I slide my legs under the beam about two feet away from Anya, then push the second bowl of chicken and rice in front of her.

She doesn’t look at me, but she starts scooping the meal up to her mouth with her fingers. We have forks, but I didn’t bring them on purpose. Life on the Rock is that of a heathen and Anya Bokori is just going to have to get used to it.

We eat in silence, but the meal is so meager, it’s over in a matter of minutes. I think I am hungrier when I’m done than I was when I started. I think Anya is too, because she looks down at her bowl with longing.

I sigh. Loudly. Because it would be nice if she could see this for what it is. Kindness.