Sick Heart: A Dark MMA Fighter Romance

That bottle of Lectra was always going to be consumed, so they were always going to fuck me that night. But I get the feeling that Maart was sending subtle signals to me too. Making sure I understood that that’s all it was.

Just fucking.

You’re here today, gone tomorrow, girl.

But I didn’t go. I wasn’t sent away. Cort brought me out here to the rig with him. And now it’s all starting to make sense. This is all a fantasy. Just a dream world. A temporary reprieve. And this place that has started to feel like home suddenly doesn’t feel like anything anymore.

Because this is his training camp. And I don’t know why we just spent thirty days out here alone, but I get the feeling it’s all just… work.

I am just work.

Cort absently props an arm on my shoulder as he watches the kids jump from the ship. One by one, they jump, splashing into the sea below. Most of them have life jackets, but a few don’t. The older ones, I realize. And by older, I mean like… twelve. Maybe. There are a lot of little ones, though. One very small girl is screaming her head off in Rainer’s arms as he positions her over the side of the ship, ready to let her fall.

The ship is a platform supply vessel. Lazar was obsessed with ships and he owns several just like this one, so I recognize the class. This one looks like it’s been around for a couple of decades and isn’t freshly painted the way Lazar’s ships are. But I don’t care how rundown the ship looks. This means we’re getting food and water today.

I’m already picturing a bath in the tub tonight when the tiny girl squeals again. The deck they’re on isn’t that far from the water. I don’t know how long that fall is—twenty feet, maybe? But all the older kids—the ones with no jackets—are directly below her, like they’re gonna catch her or something.

Cort shakes his head as he watches. And then he signs to me for the first time since we had sex on the roof. She’s afraid. But she’s gotta get over it. Then he quickly adds, more to himself than me, If she can’t make it through day one, she’s fucked.

Day one of what?

But I don’t have time to think about that because Rainer drops the little girl and she screams. Like one of those super high-pitched toddler screams. But those damn kids below actually do catch her. And then I realize that some of the other jumpers are already clambering up the platform stairwell below us.

But I’m worried about the little one, and keep my eyes on her as she is maneuvered through the water towards the rig. She is so small. Barely more than a freaking baby. Definitely no older than three or four.

Cort taps my shoulder and points as the kids enter the training floor.

I expect them to greet each other. Some backslapping, maybe? At least a few hellos, but those kids say nothing. They don’t even look at Cort. There is one older girl—pre-teen, or maybe an actual teen, wearing training shorts and a tight, black tank top—who takes charge and starts opening up the huge rusty shipping containers that line the back side of the platform with a set of clanging keys.

She swings the doors open, banging them against the containers next door, and then the next thing I know, the entire platform is swarming with kids. They are mostly small. The girl who seems to be in charge is the oldest as far as I can tell. One boy might be around her age. But all the others have to be under the age of ten.

Suddenly there is crying and when I look over at the stairwell, a sopping-wet Rainer enters the training floor holding the very small child who was just dropped out of the boat. She wails between hitches in her breath, totally out of control.

Rainer says nothing to her. He simply sets her down and gives her a forceful push towards the other kids, who are all very busy rolling equipment out of the containers. They work in teams and they work in silence. Not a single word is uttered. And when I glance over at Cort, he’s just watching them, arms crossed over his chest, severe scowl on his face, and eyes a bit narrowed.

His camp. That’s what he’s thinking. And these little kids are his students. It’s a weird place to have a camp and it doesn’t make much sense to me, but my experience with training goes back one month. So what do I know about it?

I’m standing around doing nothing while everyone else works, and that makes me uncomfortable. But I don’t know what to do. Cort is not paying any attention to me at all, so he’s no help. And no one is talking.