Letters to The Fighter ✔

4. Legend

Dear Peter, 

I'm going to break our memories up in these letters. I need to breathe between writing them.

Sometimes, it becomes too much for me. It's not healthy for me to scribble down the best memories of my life, knowing too well that I'll never be able to relive them. I cannot recount our love without falling once again, so you should know how much my soul aches with each word inscribed into these papers.

But I have to do this.

In order to explain myself, I need you to see the world from my eyes.

***

I'm sure you remember:

The fight at first wasn't really a fight at all. 

It seemed like you didn't even try to stop Derek as he threw punch after punch, kick after kick, the grin on his face getting bigger with every impact made to your body. I winced  involuntarily every time his fist was thrust into your ribs. 

I threw nervous glances Zoya's way, but like everyone else in the building, she was too immersed in the fight to notice, her eyes wide and her hands clenched into fists with anticipation. 

I wanted to get up from my seat and break the fight up myself. Nobody even tried to do anything about the fact that this guy could've killed you if he willed. 

You let him hit you. I knew before that you seemed like you could never match up to a guy as big and scary Derek, but I didn't think that a "legend" like yourself would just stand there and take a beating. And Zoya said that you'd win without a doubt, yet you seemed to be struggling.

When you doubled over for the fifth time in what had to be pain, a blank look flashed across your eyes, one that not many people saw. And you took a knee to the ground, keeping your face lowered. 

The crowd did the impossible: it got louder. Derek spun around, fueled by the number of people chanting his name, the smug look on his face seeming permanent. 

You had lost the first round. 

But there were still two to go. The second round started off just the same. Every punch inflicted onto your body made me cringe as if the pain was surging through my own body and not yours. I never did like watching people get hurt. 

Ironic, huh?

The rest of the arena was used to this, though. It seemed that I was the only person who hadn't jumped out of my seat and began shouting at Derek to punch harder or at you to step up. 

By the time that your nose became red with blood, I'd had enough. I tugged on Zoya's sleeve to get her attention, but her eyes only widened in shock. When I followed her gaze, I saw that you'd traded places with Derek. As soon as he turned around to once again rile up the crowd, you took your chance. He was now the one on the ground and you were standing above him, victorious in the second round and standing taller than you had the entire match. 

That's when I noticed the difference between you and Derek. While he looked up to the crowd and fed off of their energy every chance he got, you kept your focus. You remained in your own little world, somehow completely cut off from the hundreds around you. And maybe that had been his fatal flaw.

He had made the world too big. 

So big that he didn't pay attention to you when you were at your strongest.

A new side of you then emerged, maneuvering the ring with such skill and agility that you couldn't have possibly lacked in the first round. It was the best plot twist a reader could ask for, and even though the circumstances here were different, it was like reading a book. 

You crushed Derek in the third round, too. 

It was like reading a book; but the the main difference was: I knew nothing yet of the main character, but I was determined to find out. 

*

Dedicated to: @quiffsandcurlz99 for being an amazing friend and so freaking supportive. Seriously, Kayla, you're fantastic. :)

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