It's been two days.
After we got to the hospital, they rushed Harry into surgery. His bruised side has a three broken ribs and when Carter hit him repeatedly, it caused punctures to his lung and liver. His face is still bumps and bruises, dried blood still take place on his cheek and lips from the amount of blood that continues to pour from his wounds. I try to keep his face clean as much as I can.
I haven't been home since. I don't want to leave him. Anne has been here but she couldn't stand to see her son laying in a hospital bed. She told me she never wanted to see him fight like his father but she knew it was his dream so she couldn't stop that. I told her it was fine and that I'd call her if anything changed.
The heart monitor beeps with the same rhythm. It has been for a long time and even when I'm not in the room, I can still hear the beeping echoing in my head.
Harry's fingers twitch in my wrapped up hand. I cut open my fist when I punched Carter.
There's a soft knock on the room door before it opens and Rick comes in with a bouquet of flowers.
I smile at him.
"You got him flowers?" I laugh softly.
He smiles. "They're for you." He sets them on the table next to me. "We've all been through so much but you've been by his side since his first fight."
My eyes water as I stand and wrap my arms around Rick's neck as he holds me.
It's quiet as he takes a seat on the other side of the bed. I look back to Harry as I rub my fingers over his knuckles.
"The doc told me he's healing alright." Rick speaks softly as he stares at Harry.
"It's only been a couple days." I say, shaming myself for thinking so negatively as soon as the words leave from my mouth. I look to Rick as a tear slips from his eye and his lip trembles. He wipes his face with his hand and leans back in his chair, still keeping his eyes on Harry's face. "I don't know what I would've done if I'd lost him in that ring." He says, his voice cracking slightly.
"He's the son I never had, you know?" He says. "My ex-wife couldn't have kids. We tried adopting but it never worked out and we never worked out. After our divorce, I bought the gym and then Harry started coming in. He was 15 when he started hitting that punching bag."
It's quiet as we both sit and watch him, waiting for his eyes to flutter open.
"I got a call from the announcer at the arena." He says but I don't look his way. I stare at Harry's bruised knuckles as my thumb runs over them softly, repeatedly back and forth. I don't want to hear anything about the fight. "They didn't declare him the winner."
"I don't want to know anything about the fight." I speak my thoughts.
Rick looks to me. "We couldn't stop him, Faye, you know we couldn't. He would've gone up there even if we all said no."
I know he's right and I know that even though I don't want to see him fight again, he'll do it anyway because he really is a fighter. Not only in body but in mind. Once he has his heart set on something, he goes for it. I smile softly at him.
He's my fighter.
His fingers twitch again and I sit up as they slowly wrap around my fingers. I smile at him as I stand and bend towards him, brushing his hair away from his face.
I whisper his name softly and press my lips to his cheek before looking back at his face.
His eyes are still shut as he frowns. Remembering the first night he spent with me, I press my thumb gently to where the frown meets and brush it away.
