26. Kinda a Loser – Sihn
CHAPTER 26
KINDA A LOSER
SIHN
Berserker hasn’t done anything he’s supposed to do tonight, which comes as no shock. The match has gone into overtime even though I was supposed to use my finisher—The Attrition—a few minutes ago. But Berserker didn’t play along.
The referee signals for us to continue.
Berserker pulls a move out of nowhere and it doesn't take much for him to jump and put his knees on my head. Using his body weight he brings my head locked in his knees to the ground. His knees cannot feel fantastic after that and he lands square on his back from the move. It takes both of us almost a full minute to get up off the floor and back on our feet.
The crowd screams both our names. It’s unclear which of us they want to win. My legs are wobbly, like a newborn fawn.
When I go to grab Berserker’s face and kiss his forehead, he grabs ahold of my arms and straightens them out as he kicks my legs out from underneath me. Next thing I know, I’m on my back and Berserker has his knee against the top of my head and applies pressure to my neck. He continues without letting up for so long my lungs can no longer function, and I have to submit by tapping out.
Fuck. I lost my chance at the title.
The referee announces that Berserker remains the title champion and hands him his belt.
It doesn’t take any acting at all on my part to look defeated in the moment. My chance at the title is gone. I blew it. I was unable to prove that I deserved it. I suck and now everyone knows it. I’m weak and no one likes a man who can’t hold his weight.
Berserker is bigger than me, but he’s older. I should have been able to anticipate his moves, but I couldn’t because I’m not good enough.
I’m not sure there’s a way to come back from this loss in the profession. I’m a loser, and my life doesn’t feel worth living. The way I have lived so carelessly has left me with nothing to show for it, aside from a house that was given to me, and I didn’t even work for it.
I exit the stage and jog out to my room behind the curtain. I throw on a pair of jogging pants, grab my car keys, and head for the exit. There’s no way I’m sticking around to listen to dipshits rub this in my face.
I hear hurried footsteps approach me from behind. The way they hit the pavement I can tell they belong to a woman.
Without looking behind me, I say, “I’m not signing tits tonight, sis. Go ask Berserker.”
Mar runs up to me as I’m unlocking my car. She shouts, “I came as your girlfriend tonight!” and then tugs at her shirt—a shirt with my name on it. “Do girls really ask you to sign their tits?”
“Among other things.” I don’t look at her. I open the door and slide into the driver’s seat. She doesn’t know the amount of fans I’ve given a pity fuck to just to feel something, anything. I finally felt something for someone, and she doesn’t feel the same for me.
Defeated, I call over my shoulder, “I’ve…realized I’m kinda a loser. Not kinda, I am. You should run,” before slamming the door shut in her face. I roll down the window and say a little louder than I mean, “Listen, I’m fucked up! You’re not hearing me!”