I danced around the cage as I felt it closing in with my hands up to my face blocking the hits. This guy was new, I don’t think I have ever fought him. He was light on his feet but also skilled. I was waiting for him to make a mistake or get tired, so I was just staying on the defensive side. The crowd was getting restless and wanted someone to finally win. He threw another punch, and I realized he reached too far. I swiped his left leg causing him to land on his back. He wasn’t quick enough to get up, and I was on him within a second. Aiming at his face, and neck I threw jabs and hooks. The mask covering his face was beginning to tear, and I felt like I knew his grey eyes from somewhere. He was starting to lose consciousness, so the cutman came in and pulled me off of my opponent.
There was only one rule here in cage fighting, no killing.
I was still in the cutman’s grasp, attempting to understand the situation. I needed to calm down now that the fight was over. I grabbed the money I had won, stuffed it in my brown leather backpack, and walked to the back of the warehouse. Setting my stuff down on the ground, I threw my grey hoodie on over my black sports bra. It was too hot to put my leather jacket back on, so I decided to leave it in my bag. I tightened my ponytail and was about to head out when I realized two men in the crowd around the cage. They were ducking through the spectators, and each one was hiding a gun in their jacket based on the lump sticking out.
Quickly, I grabbed my stuff and climbed the stairs to the ground level. Once I reached the top, I heard the men climbing the stairs, whispering, “She went that way…”.
I took off at a sprint through the doors and was starting to panic. I had to tell myself to breathe, to remain focused. I ran through the backstreets of Paris, hoping to lose them.
My adrenaline rushed as it coursed through veins. I dodged the individuals who were still roaming the streets at midnight and made a sharp turn. My arms were shaking, and my legs felt like they were going to give out. I was panicking. I couldn’t go back there. I couldn’t go through that torture again after so many years.
I ran for 100 yards, finally seeing a wall at the end of the alley. Scaling the 15-foot wall at the end of the dimly-lit alley, I decided the only way to get over was by using the balconies from the apartments lining the backstreet because of my small 5 foot 3 figure. I grabbed the ladder pulling it down and pulling my aching body up. I heard the voices from the men running through the alleyway crying out my name. They began to take shots at me. I was holding onto the railing. I inched my body around the corner of the balcony and leaped for the edge of the wall. A bullet nicked the skin above my ankle. A warm fluid began to trickle down my leg into the sole of my boot. I clenched my teeth together and held back the scream threatening to escape from my lips. My hands began to slip as pain took over my body, and the men were nearing me.