Another hit to his jaw.

Another hit to my side.

Jab. Block. Shuffle position and dart. Block. Block. Block.

I'm seeing red. Trying to stay calm.

That's a haymaker headed my way that I see in slow motion and I pull my torso back. It misses me by a fraction of an inch and I see Logan's glove swing wide and travel by. I would have some serious shit to deal with if he had made contact with my fucking face.

But I'm not going to dwell on that. I'm taking the initiative now. I'm jabbing. Moving left and jabbing. Heading right and jabbing. I feint and try to jab through his defenses but he blocks me.

The rounds go on and I don't really pay attention.

By the third round, it's safe to say that I'm exhausted. Sure, I've taken some hits. I've been pushed against the ropes once but I got out of it. I cornered Logan once too, but he was able to get out of it just like I was.

It's the fifth round before I realize that I'm starting to get tired.

Don't get me wrong. I can fuck with boxers for hours and hours on end. But one thing you gotta remember when you're fighting an enemy like Logan, it's that he's almost as good as me.

I mean, don't fucking worry. I'm not being humble or anything. I'm just stating a fact that needs to be mentioned.

Logan trains just as hard as me, if not more. Boxing is his life, much like it is mine. Logan may be my enemy, but remember, he takes this shit seriously too. And when I mean seriously, I mean if the two of us fought side by side, we could probably out-fight anyone the judges threw at us. That's why even though it would be a fucking blessing to have Logan on my side, it also means that it's a goddamn curse to have him as my opponent.

Logan darts away as an uppercut travels up. However my arms on that thrust leave me open to attack.

And attack he does. The first uppercut that he throws finally hits home and I feel the power of his fist as his glove hits me. My mind blanks out for a moment and I let the stars explode in my field of vision.

Most people would get knocked out with a blow like that.

But remember that I'm not most people.

I'm a force of nature.

Even still, I'm a bit dazed. It's all I can do to hold my gloves out and block Logan's shots.

That's when the next hit comes. To my side.

I double over and Logan takes a step back. He's getting ready to knock me the fuck out.

It cannot end like this.

I will not let it end like this.

I have visions of the woman I love. Natalie. Enjoying Christmas dinner with Logan. It's the two of them. There's a third chair and a third placeholder set at the table. But it's empty. I know that it's mine.

Images of Natalie speed through my brain. Her looking in sadness as Logan packs and leaves. Natalie and I moving in together but finding her looking with sorry at old pictures of her and Logan. No matter what we do, feeling that Logan is watching over us.

I know, I know. You're thinking that this is fucking crazy that I would have all this go through my head during a fucking match.

And normally you'd be right.

But you haven't felt Logan's punch. And back to back in short order, it's fucked me up a bit.

Until I realize all the shit that's flashing before my eyes is telling me one giant thing.

There's no fucking way I can lose. No fucking way I can get knocked out.

I don't know what I'm going to do. But I know I need to stay fighting Logan. I can't give up.

I get my bearings and get away just in time as Logan comes sweeping down.

I dodge and dart until I'm ready again and then I confront the motherfucker.

Block. Block. Feint. Jab.

This time, I connect home. I manage a nice, clean head shot. I packed each of those punches and this time it went home.

He's dazed.

I follow through.

Next one to his head. He's dazed but he's aware enough to hold up his gloves and block the rest of my head shots. I aim for the torso and I go after him.

My shots aren't as powerful as his, but they're more frequent and more of them connect.

He's dazed. This is my classic attack. Move fast and hit hard with a multitude of quick shots.

But Logan resists falling.

He's got a gleam in his eye. A fury that keeps him going.

He's fighting for her.

The same as me.

Natalie.

The round ends and I go to my corner. Get cleaned up as best I can.

We go at it again. This time we're both at the point where we collide with each other. Neither of us is willing to concede. We've stopped listening to our bodies.

Again the round ends without surrender on either side.

And it goes forth like this for fucking ever.

By the 10th round, I'm exhausted.

I know Logan is too. We're just a hair more sluggish.

We can't give up. I get that now. Neither of us is able to move away from what motivates us. See, we're motivated more by the future now than by the past.

I can understand why he would try to take me out of the picture and leak shit to the press.

In my pain, I can even understand that Natalie may have been doing her job.

And the future? That's Natalie. I have to keep fighting. I have to stand up.

But that's just the thing. Neither of us can stand much longer.

And out of the corner of my eye, that's when I start to fucking hallucinate.

Because I swear to motherfucking all that is holy, I seriously see Natalie running down the aisle towards the ring.

I wonder if this is the beginning of the end. I'm dazed and fucking confused and Logan is going to capitalize on this and one last well timed powerful head shot is going to end this shit for me.

But I can tell he's distracted.

Good.

That means he's seeing her—

Wait.

What exactly is she even doing?

I know now that I'm not hallucinating because Natalie has forced herself past everyone, including the people watching the ring. She's twisted and gyrated her way through and she's holding onto the floor of the ring.

And she's angling herself to get up in here.

Her hands are holding onto the rope and she's pulling herself. There's no one around to stop her.

Fuck. Maybe Logan hit me really fucking hard?

But no, he definitely sees her too now. There is almost no pretense of us fighting as we just sort of shuffle around, our gazes drawn toward where she's now climbing up the rope.

She keeps saying,

"Stop the fight!"