“You can do it, daddy!”
Chris wasn't sure how the words were able to reach his ears in his present state over the maddened whoops of the frenzied crowd. The tiny voice of encouragement filled his body with a fresh shot of energy and confidence. He shot to his feet while giving one smiling look to his son.
“And...fight!”
The referee retreated back to allow the round to commence. Chris immediately opened with several eager punches to Roy's middle, which brought his arms downward to block the unprecedented blows. At taking notice of the opening, Chris landed a solid shot to his opponent's nose. The hit connected hard, bringing the crowd to a surprised roar and sending The Green Monster reeling backward. Chris quickly attempted to approach, but the noise of a bell sounded within his head.
“Back to your corners, boxers!”
He sat quickly while receiving a quick water break and shoulder massage from his good friend and trainer, Bryan. He knew he was also breathing words of encouragement into his ears, but they went unnoticed as he watched his son over the the jeering crowd and illuminated ropes that both snaked about him.
Ding-ding!
He was ready. He jumped to his feet, fists raised. The look in Roy's eyes spurred on his courage all the more; fear was trickling into his opponent's back eyes. No time was wasted as Chris threw punch after punch, clearly the aggressor. Roy merely kept his arms up, the crowd beginning to sneer at his heavily guarded strategy. Suddenly, however, Chris was caught in the stomach by a well-placed punch from Roy. He tried to shake off the feeling of wind leaving his lungs while remaining defensive. His opponent was clearly angered by Chris' sudden burst of confidence, which caused a flurry of punches to his outstretched fists. The crowd suddenly groaned as Chris was struck across the jaw, followed by a hit to the chest. He began seeing the familiar stars dancing before his eyes as the imposing figure of Roy was quickly descending upon the open opportunity.
“You can do it, daddy!”
Those words were burned into his brain, keeping him on his feet. Despite another strike to his cheek, he kept his mind focused upon the smiling face of his boy. He had to win this fight. He imagined his son with a hot plate of food before him, he imagined his wife coming home with a grin while holding a pair of freshly-bought shoes.
He grunted as another punch found it's way to his left eye. He felt no pain. He would give his family everything they deserved. He was going to win.
With a muffled shout, he shook away all the feelings of dizziness and discomfort from his body. His eyes narrowed, fresh adrenaline granting him an unparalleled focus upon Roy's sweat-slicked face. He began punching. At first, he merely hit the toughened muscle of his arms, so he punched harder...harder. The audience was in uproar; effectively mirroring the screaming emotion that lurked just beneath his skin. He felt his fists connect with Roy again and again, not a care given as to where they were going. He was blind with rage, blind with the feelings of seeing his boy and wife happy. He felt one stray hit to his shoulder, and kept punching through it. There was no pain anymore, no fatigue or tiredness. The only feeling was to punch, and the only effect Chris thirsted for was to utterly destroy the man before him.
“That's it! That's it! The trainer has thrown the towel!” came a wavy voice from somewhere, “The winner is Batta!”
His ears began functioning again in one, glorious moment as the crowd was on their feet in applause and shouts. Chris threw his arms to the sky, now seeing the ring and Roy's heaving body hunched before him for the first time in minutes. His disfigured face was hauled away by his golden-clad trainer. With a beaming face and toothy grin, Chris looked to where he knew his family was seated. He saw the wide-eyed look of his son, as well as the relieved eyes of his wife.
“I did it, son,” he breathed to himself amidst the generous back pats from his friend, “It's all because of you.”
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