Chapter 10 Sylvie
SYLVIE
There was a cab ride, paid for with the cash I dug from Alec’s pockets. Then the blinding fluorescent lights of the hospital. Alec on his back on a gurney and doctors shouting questions at me as I ran alongside.
What happened?
Was he attacked?
Do you want us to call the cops?
And me lying and making up a story about him getting mugged in an alley and the guy taking a crowbar to his leg. I didn’t get a good look at him. It was dark. Please, just help him.
I saw them looking at each other and at the cuts on Alec’s knuckles—some new, some old. They didn’t believe me. He wasn’t the first bare-knuckle fighter to be brought in.
They talked about hemorrhaging and swelling and needing to relieve the pressure. One of them, before the others could stop him, demanded to know why I’d waited so long before bringing him in. I burst into tears.
They took him into emergency surgery, leaving me with a wad of forms to fill out. I went through them methodically, one by one, which took my mind off the horrors happening in the operating theater. Then I stared at the wall and tried to figure out how everything had gone so wrong, so fast.
After five hours, they said I could see him.
Everything above his eyebrows was swathed in white bandages.
When I saw the tube down his throat and the papery hiss and pump of the ventilator, I wanted to scream.
His eyes were closed, but it didn’t look like any sort of peaceful sleep.
His brow was furrowed, as if he was having a nightmare.
One he couldn’t wake up from.
“He’s in a coma,” said the doctor, taking a seat beside me. She was a pretty blonde who looked not much older than me. “That’s not unusual, with head injuries. In some ways, it’s the brain’s way of protecting itself.”
“While it heals, right?” I asked.
She just looked at me sadly.
“It’ll protect him while he heals and then he’ll wake up...right?” I pressed.
“There’s no way to tell,” she said slowly. “He may just wake up.” But her face told me how unlikely that was.
I felt my lip tremble and then, without warning, I started weeping and couldn’t stop. The doctor put a hand on my back and awkwardly patted me there. It felt as if it was the first time she’d done it—she really was young, I realized. But however awkward it was, I was glad she was there.
“Can I stay with him?” I croaked, when I could finally speak again.
“Of course.” She gave me her beeper number and told me to call her any time.
When she’d gone, I sat there staring at Alec. My whole life, he’d been the big one, the strong one, the one who’d taken care of me...even while our parents had still been alive.
But cancer had eaten away at Mom until she was just a jaundiced, skeletal copy of herself in a hospice, and Alec had had to step up even more.
Then we’d gotten the phone call to say something had happened to our dad at work.
Alec had been the one who’d dealt with the doctors and then the funeral parlor.
Undiagnosed heart defect. My brother had insisted I get my heart checked in case it was hereditary, and I’d demanded that he did, too.
We were both clear. But now we were alone.
We’d clung to each other even closer, battling to keep the rent paid on the apartment. Our family’s situation had been precarious even before Dad died—his savings had gone on Mom’s cancer care. Every bill became a struggle.
And now, the person I’d leaned on so much was the one who needed help. He didn’t look big or strong anymore. Surrounded by machines, dependent on them for every breath, he was more vulnerable than a newborn baby.
I picked up his hand and clasped it in mine.
“I’m going to take care of you,” I whispered.
But I had no idea how. I had no money to pay the hospital bills.
And in a month, I’d be dead at the hands of some trained fighter.
With me gone, Alec would have no surviving relatives. Jesus, they’ll switch off the machine.
I was going to die. And not long after that, Alec was going to die, too. I’d thought I was sacrificing myself for him, but all I’d done was to seal both our fates.
I wrapped my arms around him and hugged him tight, my face against his chest, my tears soaking into his hospital gown.
I lost myself in a fantasy where his strong arms suddenly rose and tightened around me and he woke up and the doctors ran in and said it’s a miracle.
It would happen any minute, I told myself. I just had to keep hugging him.
But it didn’t happen. My tears turned cold and the dawn crept slowly in through the blinds. Another day. One step closer to the end—a long month that I’d face utterly alone. And then, when it finished, I’d be dead.
I thought of the hard concrete floor of The Pit.
My head cracking against it, blood spreading out in a pool.
I hadn’t given a lot of thought to the fight itself, until now.
Back when I was pleading with Rick, it had seemed like a simple trade—my life for Alec’s.
But now, I started to think about how it would feel to be hit, again and again.
No one had ever really hit me, my whole life.
A few guys had groped me, a friend had slapped me, once.
But no one had ever deliberately pulled back their fist and hit me.
It was one thing my shitty life had spared me.
I was scared. I was scared of how much it would hurt. I imagined my cheekbones shattering, my ribs breaking. I was ashamed of how scared I was.
And it wasn’t going to stop. I was going to be punched and kicked until I lost consciousness, until I slumped to the floor in a ragged heap.
Even if I was still alive when the fight was over, there’d be no one to take me to the hospital.
Maybe Rick would take pity on me and put me out of my misery, or maybe he’d just dump my body in an alley somewhere, but I’d be dead either way.
I clutched my brother tight, feeling the warmth of the sunlight crawl slowly across my back.
It became uncomfortable, but I didn’t want to move.
Moving meant letting go of Alec and the beginning of the end.
When it finally grew too hot to bear, I twisted and glared angrily at the window, one hand up in front of my eyes, dazzled by the new day.
And suddenly, in that second, I knew what I had to do.
I had to win.
That was the only way out. If I lost, we were both dead, one way or another. If I won, I’d survive. I’d be there for Alec and I could make sure he had the best chance, too.
But that meant fighting. Not just showing up like a sacrificial lamb and taking the punishment until I collapsed, but fighting some other woman and winning. I’d never been in a fight in my life.
I had to learn how to fight.
But where the hell was I going to learn that? Who was going to teach me? I didn’t need some personal trainer in a gym. I needed someone serious. Someone who knew how to fight bare knuckle and raw. Someone who was a natural at this stuff. I didn’t know anyone like that.
Wait.
I knew one.