Sick Heart: A Dark MMA Fighter Romance

But the final month is a mixture of reality, and fear, and acceptance.

That’s why we give them the games. That’s why we give them beds, and books, and let them be kids. Because in the third month the truth is far, far too real not to think about it.

And once your fighter starts thinking about their own death, they’ve already lost.

It’s just a fact that most of these kids will be dead soon. And it’s not like I ever just accepted this as fact, it’s just… it’s just a lot easier to give in to the inevitable than it is to hold on to the fantasy that someone will show up at the last minute and save them. Because it never happens.

I used to dream about that too. Even after Maart came along and we were partners. I used to imagine that someone from my past would show up and make it all better.

That girl. I used to dream about that girl with no voice who had the face of Anya a few weeks ago, but has now taken on the face of Ainsey. I used to hope for her to come back and say… I don’t know… I’m sorry I left you behind. It was all just a big mistake. And she would take my hand and lead me somewhere… safe.

But it never happened.

I was about seven when I really came to terms with my situation. When I really understood that there was never going to be a rescue. When I truly accepted that at no point was anyone ever going to break into Udulf’s training camp, take care of business, and lead me out of this nightmare.

And that the only way I would live long enough to grow up is if I fought for it. Literally.

So that’s what I did. And that’s why I have this camp on the Rock for my fight kids. It’s a gradual lead-in to the final moment of truth.

Most of them don’t get it the first time. Like… Ainsey isn’t suddenly gonna understand that heroes don’t exist when we leave here. If she makes it to next year, and there’s another round of Rock camp, she might get it then. But I doubt it.

It takes most of them several years to come to terms with the truth. Just like it took me.

That’s why I make them all come out here until they are fourteen. If they make it that long.

By then, they are hard. They are serious. They understand the lessons they learn out here can save their lives if they apply them correctly.

Silence is golden. Someone said that, I just don’t know who. But I know it’s true because silence has gotten me out of some very dangerous situations with Udulf and his ilk.

Quiet. Shhhh. Don’t let them hear you. Speak with your hands, not your voice.

It’s the secret language of slaves. I didn’t know this until that night I accepted my fate. Udulf was angry because I would not talk. He was drunk on the Lectra and he was beating me, trying to make me tell him how I learned to speak with my hands.

But I didn’t know. So I couldn’t tell him. And I already knew that denying it wouldn’t get me far, so I just said nothing.

It stuck.

Udulf never learned the lesson of silence because some time later, after his drunken rage was long forgotten, he was the one who told me about the secret slave language. And that conversation was the first one where he confirmed that the girl with no voice who left me behind was real.

That was the night he told me she was dead too.

And all my hope died with her and my heart turned sick.

And now it’s all over.

Phase three on the Rock is history.

I look around the mat, on this last full day we will spend here out on the Rock as a group. I see that same sickness creeping into these kids too.

Budi has always gotten it. Someone told him early. Before he ever came to live with me.

Zoya, too. She’s only six, but I see no hope of rescue in her eyes. She gets it.

Jafari is the only other kid in my group who understands. I think that fight with Anya did it.

Of course, Irina, Peng, Paulo, and Maeko got it a long time ago. That’s why they’re still here. But the rest of them… I look at each one in turn as they sit, lining the perimeter of the mat, listening to Maart give them instructions for the final test. Nope. None of the others understand what’s happening just yet.

Evard doesn’t count because as far as he’s concerned, someone did rescue him. We rescued him. There will be no next fight in his future.

But that still leaves twelve kids who probably won’t make it to next year.