Read Broken #2 (The Broken Series - Book #2) for Free Online

way on her shoulder from her hair. “I have to go get ready for
class, I'll see you later.”
    I
nodded, and watched her as she walked out my door, closing it behind her. I
breathed a sigh of relief and looked down at my notes that I had already made
for the story.
    Everything
was going to be okay.
     
    Chapter Six
    Jet

 
    Fight
night was tonight, and I was determined to keep focused, to make sure my head
was in the game. Game only, this was not the time to think about Natalie, or
worry about my grades. It was not the time to get angry over my father's lack
of enthusiasm when it came to my career choice, or the fact that he was still
determined to have me work for the company. It was also not the time to obsess
over the pass Brian had made at Natalie, or the fact that there were a million
other men out there who were far more deserving of her than I was. No, this day
was only meant for me to focus on the fight ahead, and what the game plan was,
in order to leave as a champion. Because if I didn't leave as a champion, then
my father was going to start having a reason to tell me to give up what he
calls my “pipe dreams.” So I had a lot riding on these fights; they were no
joke, and I certainly didn't look at them as playtime. This was about the rest
of my life, and I planned on going to war tonight, and sending my opponent home,
thinking twice about getting in the ring with me again. Killa Killa , it was time to fight.
    I
started getting things ready to go. Coach always took care of things like
Gatorade, first aid kits, ice, tape―all the things I needed in order to
stay hydrated and safe. I always brought my lucky gloves, though no one used
shin pads or head gear in professional MMA fights. I wouldn't need much else
except my fighting outfit, which consisted of shorts and a T-shirt that had the
school sponsorship logo on it. I put everything I needed in my gym bag, and set
it by the door. Now it was “me” time. Kyle was hanging out with video games,
and that wasn't the scene I wanted before heading out for my fight.
    I
headed back into my bedroom, and closed the door. I put some meditation music
on my iPod, and lay down on my bed. I got in a comfortable position, and placed
the earphone buds in my ears. I turned on the iPod, and the music found its way
into my head. I needed to zone out to experience my win in my head before I
ever got into the ring. I needed to be a winner before I ever got out there. My
goals would be realized before I even left my apartment; it was all part of how
I won―not only in fighting, but in life, as well.
    As
the music took over, I imagined myself warming up with Coach, getting my head
in the game, moving the way I was taught, throwing punches and kicks. Next, I
imagined what it would be like to hear my opponent’s name called out in the
ring. I imagined what it was like to know he had already lost, and was only
going out to meet a good, old-fashioned beating. I then pictured my own name
being called, the music that I had handpicked for my walkout playing through
the speakers as I broke through the curtains, my team following close behind. I
imagined my team, and how hard they, too, had worked to make sure I arrived
that night prepared for the fight. To know that I was ready
to knock out my opponent. They were there to support me, and would have
my back no matter what.
    I
would walk down the aisle proudly, with my head held high, waiting to destroy.
I would not have that natural fight or flight instinct that kicked in when I knew
I was about to enter the cage with another man who looked to cause harm. I was
now at the octagon door, my team placing Vaseline on my eyebrows, talking to
me, preparing me for what lay ahead. I removed my shirt, and walked into the
ring. I envisioned the bell going off, and I struck my way into a knockout as I
pummeled my opponent, never allowing him a chance to break my guard. I landed a
sweet head kick that knocked him out, and he never got back up. It was