Chapter 8
Caden
I have my first session with Brandon this morning and he’s due to come in any second now. He’ll be accompanied by his guardian and caseworker, and I’m assuming Imogen will be here too.
I don’t know why, but I find myself oddly excited to get started with him. Though, I shouldn’t get ahead of myself. I doubt it’s going to be easy. From what Imogen has said, he’s quite jumpy and nervous, but that’s expected. I’d be like that if I’d had the same upbringing.
I’m determined to make a difference for this kid. I want him to feel safe here and feel that Rebels Advocate is a place he can come to let loose and be himself. I want him to gain confidence and learn about self-worth. Hell, I want to see him here in the years to come being the best version of himself and not letting the pain of his past rule his future.
The door opens and my eyes instantly cut towards it. Imogen walks in first with a kid practically glued to her side and two women behind them. Imogen’s eyes connect with mine and a beaming smile instantly takes over her face. God, she so fucking beautiful it makes my heart hurt.
I find it nearly impossible to tear my eyes away from her, but with Cole in the room and a kid who needs me to be professional, I do just that. Also, if I keep staring I’ll probably end up falling at her feet, begging her to let me screw her in my office.
Fuck, I need to get a grip.
I slide my eyes across to the boy, and shit, he’s fucking tall. Didn’t Imogen say he was eleven? I guess they breed them big these days.
I walk over and I can’t help but notice the way the boy shrinks away from my advance. Knowing what I know about him, my heart breaks, but I do what I can to not let it affect me. “Hey, man,” I say, holding my fist out for a fist bump. “I’m Caden. You must be Brandon?”
His eyes quickly flick between me and Imogen before he raises his fist to meet mine in the softest fist pump I’ve ever received. “Um, yeah. That’s me,” he murmurs with his eyes cast down.
I give him a fond smile before turning to Imogen. “Hey.”
“Hi,” she says before a slight blush takes over her cheeks. I try not to gawk. I mean, it almost seems as though she’s shy to talk to me. What the hell? What happened to the badass chick who’s never been afraid to put me in my place? “Um,” she starts before turning to indicate to the two other women. “This is Susan and Katia,” she says. “Susan is Brandon’s caseworker and Katia has been taking care of him for the past few weeks.”
“Nice to meet you,” Susan says in a very business tone as Katia gives me a smile and an encouraging nod.
“Pleasure’s all mine,” I say before looking back at Imogen. “Is there anything I need to do or can we get started?”
“By all means,” she says. “Have at it.”
“Cool,” I say before turning back to Brandon. “Alright, kid. You’re with me.”
I indicate with a flick of my head for him to follow and just as expected, he tags along. “So,” I say once were out of hearing range from Imogen and the other women. “Like I said, I’m Caden,” I say, giving him a proper introduction, “and this is Rebels Advocate.”
With that, he glances around the gym and takes in all the movement. First up, he looks to where the noise of flesh upon flesh is coming from. I follow his gaze and find a few of our advance fighters training before looking back at him and watching his reaction.
“First, you need to know that we are a gym dedicated to producing professional MMA fighters,” I tell him while he looks around. “So, there will be times where you will see our fighters going against one another, but do know that this is a controlled environment and we will never make you do anything you don’t want to do. I will never push you beyond your limits and if you need to call it quits for the day, just say the word.”
Brandon seems at ease, but I have no doubt the controlled violence in the room is putting him on edge. He keeps looking around and watches a guy using the speedball with nearly perfect precision before turning towards Xander.
Cole has Xander doing some drills into his pads and I can’t help but notice the interest as he watches them. Xander is an incredible fighter and I must admit, the majority of the time, the kid even impresses me. But seeing the way Brandon’s eyes light up with interest has me hoping that maybe I’ll actually be able to help him.
“Alright,” I say, drawing his eyes back to me. “Do you have any questions?”
“No,” he says with a slight shake of his head.
“Good,” I say with a nod. “Have you ever done anything like this before?”
“No,” he says again.
“Good, you’ve got no bad habits to correct,” I tell him with a grin. “Come on,” I say with a flick of my head before leading him towards the punching bags. “We’ll start with the basics.”
I ask for his hand and he holds it out. While still wanting to gain his trust, I curl his fingers around into a fist before placing his thumb around it. “Number one rule,” I tell him. “Thumb always on the outside. You want to avoid injuring yourself at all costs.”
His other hand curls into a fist and he studies them before looking back up at me, waiting patiently for what’s next. I turn him to face the punching bag. “Legs apart and knees slightly bent. I want your right foot back just a bit and your hands up like this.”
I put myself into the position and he instantly adjusts himself. “You want your left hand up, protecting your face while your striking hand is back ready to defend or go on the offense.”
“Like this?” he asks demonstrating the stance.
“Exactly,” I encourage.
I move across to the punching bag beside him and demonstrate an easy combination. Right, left, right, and knee. I show him exactly how to strike by keeping his arm close to his body and not allowing it to swing wide. I demonstrate again and make a point of only using the bag. I don’t want to give him any reason to fear me.
“Why don’t you give it a try?”
He nods and turns all his concentration to the punching bag. He strikes his fist out, but there’s no power, no conviction. Right, left, right, and kick. Repeat. It’s robotic. Mechanical. Almost as if he’s too afraid to put his heart and soul into it. “Come on, Brandon,” I say. “Like you mean it.”
He picks up his pace, but there’s something in his eyes that’s holding him back. He lets out little grunts as he pummels his fists into the worn leather, but I’ve been around this world since I was a kid. I can tell the difference between someone whose giving their all and someone who's doing it because they’ve been told to.
I’m not going to be able to help him until whatever is holding him back is sorted out. I place my hands on his shoulder and pull him away from the punching bag. I turn towards him and drop down to one knee so we’re face to face. “You’re angry,” I state.
He shakes his head as though he’s offended. “No,” he demands.
“Brandon, I don’t mean right this minute, but in general. I know what you’ve been through and you have every right to be angry. Hell, I’d be angry too. What you’ve gone through at the hands of your parents is awful, but you will never move forward while you’re holding onto that. To truly feel that freedom, you need to let it go.”
Brandon sets his jaw and looks away. It breaks my heart that he’s unable to meet my eyes. It’s like he’s ashamed, but no kid should ever be made to feel that way. “Look at me,” I demand. His eyes instantly come tearing back to mine. “Earlier I said that I will never force you to do anything you don’t want to do, but right now, there’s one exception to that rule. The second you walked through that door you became my student and when you looked around, I saw interest. You want to be here. You want to learn how to protect yourself, but in order to do that, you need to heal.”
He lets out a breath and I can see him wanting to run away, but I won’t let him, not on my watch. The second I saw him, I dedicated myself to helping him and I may not be a shrink or a caseworker, but I’m a man who can promise him safety and the skills to move forward.
I glance back at Imogen and her eyes are firmly on us, probably wondering what the hell we're talking about. “Look,” I say to him. “What I’m about to ask you to do, might not be healthy in Imogen’s eyes, but I feel it’s one of the best ways to help you to take the next step.”
His eyebrows crease in curiosity as he slowly nods his head. I indicate towards the punching bag. “I want you to go ape-shit on the bag,” I say bluntly.
Brandon looks at me as though I’ve just grown another head. “What?” he grunts.
“This is your one chance to let it all out. Never again will you get the opportunity to do this,” I explain. “I want you to picture every single person who has ever hurt you. I want you to see their faces in the leather of the bag and I want you to hand their asses to them. Get every bit of your rage out and as soon as you’ve done that, I’ll start training you for a future in MMA if that’s what you want.”
His eyes grow big and wary. “Are you sure?” he questions before looking back at the three women sitting in the couch by the reception desk. He cringes, knowing that if they knew what I was asking of him, he’d probably be dragged right out of here.
“I’m sure. But like I said, I’ll never allow you to do this again. Picture their faces and get it all out,” I say. “After this, if you ever picture another person on the punching bag, our deal is off. Understood?”
He instantly starts nodding his head before looking back at Imogen. “Don’t worry about them,” I say. “I’ll handle them. This is for you.”
“Ok,” he says. He turns back to face the punching bag and I rise off my knee. I remind him of the positioning of his body and without another word, he strikes forward with his fist.
I watch on as there’s a shit load more passion in his movements. Hell, I’m even impressed with the little guy. He pushes on and pummels his fits into the bag. His breath grows heavy and eventually, he starts panting, but he doesn’t give in. “Come on,” I encourage. “Give it your all.”
His fists slam into the leather and while his movements are messy and untrained, I can already see that he has a natural skill, something that could assist him in a future of MMA if that’s what he decides he’d like to do.
I see movement in the corner of my eye and glance over to see Imogen on her feet watching Brandon in concern. Her eyebrows furrow before looking at me. I gently shake my head, not wanting her to intervene right now, after all, this is for him and she might not understand, but he really needs this.
I focus back on Brandon and his moves are slowing down. He’s almost at breaking point. I have no doubt that his fists are aching. His breath is becoming strained but I won’t stop him until he’s completely done.
He grunts out one last time before collapsing to the ground. I walk over and grab his drink bottle and hand it over. I crouch down as he greedily takes it and practically swallows the whole thing in one go.
He slams the bottle down beside him and gasps for air. His body is coated in sweat and he looks utterly exhausted. “How do you feel?” I ask.
He looks up at me and nods his head. “Better,” he admits. “I didn’t think it’d actually work.”
“I’m glad it did,” I say. I study him for a moment and see a change in him, be it small, but it’s there. “So, from now on, when you walk through that door, you leave your troubles behind. When you’re here, it’s just you and me.”
He gives a firm nod of his head. “Got it,” he says with determination.
I feel as though I’ve just helped him overcome something major, and fuck, it feels good. “Alright,” I say, straightening out of my crouch. “What’s your take on MMA? Is it something you want?”
He nods his head towards Xander. “Is that what that guy is doing?”
“Yep,” I confirm.
“Then, yeah,” he says with a growing determination in his eyes. “I want to do that.”
“Right. Then let’s get started.”