Page 65 of Sucker Punch Drunk Love

“Protect yourself at all times. The rules were already gone over. Touch gloves.” Teresa stared Sierra down, but finally lifted her fist to meet hers. He checked both fighters, and both corners and commenced the fight with a, “Let's go!”

It didn't matter that she had had ten consecutive wins. Or that she had won three with a knockout. The only number that mattered right now was one. One fighter.Myfighter. I don't know how Medina felt in this moment, but seeing that cocky smile that lit up Teresa's face made me want Sierra to knock it right off of her.

I knew what smiling at your opponent meant. It meant you smelled fear. I'd instructed Sierra to cut back on the girly shit, so I was grateful she wasn't smiling back at her. She circled DaCosta, but my girl was moving too fast. Understandable, since Teresa was a speed demon. I just wish she'd slow down and conserve her fucking energy. Deep breath. There you go.

Sierra settled in her stance, likely sensing she couldn't keep that up for four rounds. She punched fast and fierce, a jab landing, letting her opponent know she was standing her ground.Nice.

Only the shot was short-lived when DaCosta backed Medina into a corner, picking her up and forcing her to the ground. When she wrestled Sierra on her back, my chest tightened. I knew exactly how heavy another person could feel after tiring yourself out.

“Frame!” I yelled out, as instinctively Sierra used her elbows and forearms to create some space between her and DaCosta.

I wasn't sure how well she could hear me, but in the case that she could, I yelled at the top of my lungs.

"Get your left knee inside!” She continued to fight for space, but DaCosta floated past. “Fuck!” I said with a slap against the fence. I felt so helpless right now. The people out there, all they saw was a fighter, but me? She was the girl who'd waste her whole day working. Splitting shifts in between training sessions, just at a chance to work with me.

The one who took the time to wipe everything down. Because if she didn't, who would?

She was the girl who cried during Finding Nemo, because she shared that damn fish's pain when it came to losing her kid.

She wasn't the one to start the fight. She only learned how to finish them because of the cards that life had dealt her. When DaCosta's series of punches landed, my whole body seized up. Get her off of you.

Fight her off.

Wrapping her legs around the DaCosta’s torso, she wrestled her back forcing her on her side. Fuck, that was a close one. The first-round bell rung, Sierra limping to the corner as we got her ready for the next round.

“Fuck, she's fast,” she panted.

“I know, Medina. That's why I'm glad you adjusted quick to preserve your energy. You're only gonna wear yourself out trying to tire her out. Just get her on the ground. What's wrong with your rib? You're holding your side.”

“She just got me good on the floor, I think.”

“You're doing good out there, but you telling me you have an injury makes me want to pull you out. You let it show, and Dacosta is going to prey on that injury,” I explained. It’s what I would do.

“I want to finish this fight. Just trust that I can protect myself like you taught me.” I took a deep breath.

“Fuck, Medina. Look, you don't have to prove it to me. In my heart, you're already a winner,” I confessed.

“Then let me prove it to myself,” she countered. I nodded.

“Okay.” We fixed her up and exited the cage, the bell indicating the second round.

Because of her injury, something shifted in her performance. I could see it in her eyes. I had been fighting long enough to recognize that look.

She wasn't going to chase her around the cage, she was going to watch and make her come to her. Fists went flying, and kicks landed hard. Sierra had done her best to keep her on her strong side, but I know she was exerting energy to do it. And then it happened. A window. A moment DaCosta had left herself wide open. Not wasting a second Sierra fired off a combination we had done so many times, both of us could have thrown it in our sleeps.

DaCosta went down, and for the first time all night appeared human. The ref checked on her to get up, the crowd howling in a unanimous chant. Nine seconds. Five seconds. Three. She was still down, as Sierra looked over to check on her with real concern for her well-being. The ringside physician ran over to her side, and with a quick examination, it appeared that the DaCosta was all right. Which only fucking meant that?—

“Ladies and gentlemen, Referee Davis has called a stop to this contest at two minutes, forty-five seconds of round two. Declaring your winner Sierrrrrrra “La Loba?*” Medina.” For a second, I didn't move. Watching the referee lift her hand, my knees nearly gave out on me.

Héctor had to practically pull me into the cage to meet her, as tears streaked her face as thousands of people screamed her name. Instinctively I picked her up in my arms, spinning her around as she wrapped her legs around me.

“Josue, are you crying?”

“Fuck yeah, I'm fuckin’ crying. You fuckin’ did it, Medina. You did it.” Cameras flashed, and interviewers trailed her, trying to get her last words at the call of the fight.

“The girl's tired. Let her get a few minutes to herself, I promise she'll answer all your questions when she comes out.” She raced to the locker room, searching for her bag and her phone to call her daughter with the good news, only her face went slack. Her phone had been overrun with messages and voicemails from numbers back home.

“Sierra, what's wrong?”