“Kelsey, this is it. The last match. If you lose then you’re done and you go home a loser. You don’t want that do you? DO YOU!?” All I could do was look at my father, look in his dark blue eyes and nod at his words. His yelling always left me speechless. I left the sweat smelling locker room with a crowd of supporting loved ones, but entered the ring with no one by my side. I made my way to the corner. My corner as the ref would call it. The crowd was going wild, some were chanting my name and the haters were booing it. I was known as the one who would cross check people. Or put others in submission shutdowns, taking them out within a couple hits. My heart was racing, I could feel the pulse threw my shirt. Clenching my fists so hard that when I stopped, my gloves wouldn’t bend back to the original shape. I glared at the person in the other corner. She had short black spandex, a black shirt, and UFC gloves. Same things I was wearing. I took my sports jacket off, put on my gloves, and shoved my mouthpiece in my mouth. My gloves are cement blocks to me right now and my father’s words echoed in my head. The ref called us both to the center. “Okay ladies you know the rules, no kicking or pressure points, besides that everything’s free game. Last one down is the champion. Now go back to your corners.” I walked back to my corner, I knew this wasn’t going to be easy. We both turned around and looked in each others directions, giving looks of hate to each other. DING, the match had started. The girl in the other corner started shuffling towards me. She strikes. I dodge and hit her back across the mouth. She spat blood out and had a furious look on her face. All my thoughts are running threw my head now. Why can’t my family be like others? Why does my family always come down hard on me? Then I think, can you hate someone you’re suppose to love?


I spaced out and she came back at me and she hit me good. When her gloves connected to my face it was the worst pain I’ve ever felt. Almost as much as the emotional pain I was put through as a kid. How I watched my parents fight because of my fathers drinking problem. How I walked into the bathroom one time and saw my sister throwing up so she wouldn’t gain weight, but she made me swear that I wouldn’t tell anyone. How if my overdose was successful I wouldn’t be here right now, fighting this girl for the title of being a champion. She got two more hits on me after that. One to the mouth, then nose. Blood came running out of my nose, and we were both called back to our corners. “What was that!” My dad said in a voice I had never heard before. He was more furious then he’s ever been. His face went from white to red and his hands were in fists. “She’s getting hits on you! If you keep this up, you might as well drop your gloves and walk out of here so she doesn’t embarrass you with defeat! Now get your head in the match!” “Yes dad.” I said in a quavering voice. “No,” said my dad. “When you box, you call me sir from now on.” “...Yes sir.” I said with a hatred tone in my voice. Then the horrible noise came again. DING.



I left my corner with two things on my mind. Number one, a hate toward my father so strong that I couldn’t bare to look at him. The second one was blood stains on me, showing that this girl is here for a fight and isn’t giving up. She didn’t shuffle towards me this time though. She planted her feet and waited for me to do the first move. As I glided towards her, she started moving towards me inch by inch. I tried to strike but she blocked it and took my face off her knee. I grabbed my face and held it. Covered my nose to make sure it wasn’t bleeding, and to put pressure on the pain. I looked up at the monitor and saw what I had looked like compared to this girl. My nose was swollen, my eyes were blood shot, and my black mouthpiece was tinted red from the iron tasting blood in my mouth. The girl grabbed my head and took it off her knee one more time. Even though she struck me in the nose, the pain radiated through my whole body. She went to check me across my head when I ducked and jabbed her in the abs. At that moment I realized I’ve been through so much emotional and physical pain that this girl was nothing. After a couple of hits to the face, some people would drop down and cry, but not me. She tried to hit me again, but I blocked her and gave her a hit across the face. I kept going at her like she was a punching bag in the gym, or like she was my father. I couldn’t control my anger and aggression. The more I kept thinking of her as my father, the more I wanted to knock her down.


As I stopped punching her, all I could see was how she looked different. Her once small and straight nose, crooked and swollen. Her ghostly face turned beat red and was all cut up. She was missing her k-9 tooth and her baby blue eyes were as dark as the blue ocean. She started to stumble, gave me a blank look, then just collapsed. I gazed at her, waiting for her to get up. The ref stared to count. “One, two, three.” DING. The match was over, I dropped to my knees and watched as blood came running down my face. People rose to their feet and started cheering. My dad came up to me and said words I’ll never forget. “Even though you won, she still got hits on you. To me, this isn’t a win, to me, you lost.” I clenched my fists but held back my anger. All I could say was yes sir and walk away.