Page 3 of Uncaged Obsessions

She came into my life at a perfect time, just like my first coach, Jesse. I remember the first fight I won and actually making enough money to pay more than just my bills. I finally had enough to buy everything I needed to get her started, and then finally the snake I’d always wanted.

Though, I didn’t make it easy to get there because I did whatever the fuck I wanted to, and hated authority. Some things never change.

The cash is slapped into my hand for my win. It’s not enough, and will barely cover the rent on my shit hole apartment, but it’s all I can do. It’s the only thing I’m good at and I know I’ll win.

I count out the money to make sure it’s all here before grabbing my shit and leaving for the night, knowing I’ll have to be back in a few days to make more for groceries.

As I’m leaving, I hear my name being called and normally I’d ignore it, but then he calls again. “Adam Hayes.”

My head snaps up to see who keeps calling after me, and the man who’s approaching me isn’t familiar, but he raises a hand in a half wave.

“Do I know you?” I snap.

“No, but I’ve been watching your fights and you’re good. But I think I could make you better.”

I fold my arms across my chest. “Why the fuck do you think that?”

“My name’s Jesse.” He stretches his hand out, but I don’t take it. “I own a boxing gym, and I think you have potential to go pro, but that’ll never happen if you keep fighting in shitty places like this.”

“Yeah, no thanks.” I shake my head. Fucking sketchy dude approaching me out of nowhere claiming he can make me fight better. Hard pass.

He calls out to me again, and as I ignore him, I get on the Yamaha that I got for way too cheap—though, I was able to fix it up to get it functional again. Luckily, I don't live too far from this fight location, so I'm home in less than ten minutes.

I stash the cash I won in the box I have in my top dresser drawer before cleaning up in the shower that doesn’t get warm enough. When I climb into bed, which is just a thin mattress onthe floor, I’m glad it’s summer in Portland, so it isn’t too cold because the blankets I have are wearing thin.

One day this won’t be my life anymore. Everyone has to start somewhere, and the bottom is different for everyone. Mine just happens to be pretty low. But I know I’ll get to the top one day.

I’ve always been tall,but lean, which has always been an advantage while fighting because I’m faster than my opponents and they always underestimate me.

That is until today when I’m paired up with a guy who outweighs me by at least seventy pounds. Still, I refuse to pass up a fight, even if it’s unfair.

It doesn’t take long for me to regret it because I may be quick on my feet, but the bastard is strong, and every punch he lands rattles me more than the last. I’m swaying on my feet, blood is pouring down my face, but I’ll never submit in a fight. I’ll continue going until I’m knocked out.

Though, that’ll be a first for me.

Another hit lands and my ears start ringing. My vision blacks out for a moment and it gives him the perfect opportunity to hit me again almost immediately. I try to stay standing. I try to block. I try to fight back, but everything feels like it’s in slow motion and out of my control. I can’t see straight. I can hardly hear what’s going on around me.

I barely register the next hit, and it’s not until the world is turning on its side that I realize I’m falling. My head hits the ground and everything goes black.

Everything iscold when I wake up, and there’s a beeping noise that’s making the headache, currently playing like a drumbeat in my head, even worse. When I try to open my eyes the bright light is too much and I shut them immediately with a groan.

“You’re awake,” a man’s voice says. I don’t recognize it, but I try to open my eyes again to see. Despite it burning, I refuse to close them.

That’s when I see it’s the man from the other night, but I don’t remember his name. I can hardly remember my own at this moment though because my head hurts so bad.

“What’re you doing here?” I ask, my voice hoarse and throat burning.

“I brought you here. Found you tossed aside, probably left to die by those assholes that don’t care if you live or die.”

“Why?”

He leans forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. “I see something in you, kid. Kinda reminds me of myself when I was young. I see your potential and I think you’re wasting it on fights that won’t get you anywhere except dead.”

I can’t help but feel like there’s a catch here. There has to be because there always is. This guy knows nothing about me, andI don’t know what he could see in me other than the fact that I’m a good fighter, which is true, but so are a lot of other guys.

“You don’t know me.”

“No, but I know potential when I see it.”

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