ON THE OTHER SIDE

(Carter's PV)

Life's a bitch.

One moment I’m just sitting there on my fucking own when a idiot walks up and pours grape juice all over my watch. I sigh as I walk out the school doors, hands twitching to hit something, really hit something.

And all probably for some dare too. Or maybe he wanted to talk to me or some stupid shit like that.

Today's just fucking great! I already left mom and dad fucking in the living room after Mom cheated on him with two of his golf buddies. Two this time, so that'll be twice the argument. By the time I get home I know that they'll be at each other's necks again.

All this before nine am too.

Everyday, I fear they're getting closer and closer to a divorce. I don't want that. I'm so so tired of this, why can't they just. . . stop cheating on each other? I want us to be a family again, happy and in love.

I pull down my glasses and speed out of the school's parking lot.

They really used to be so in love it was almost sickening; always kissing, always going on dates, always doing cute romantic stuff. I would sell my soul to go back to that time.

I vividly remember just before everything went to shit. Dad came home from work and told Mom and I to get ready for a two day trip. It was at the end of that trip they bought me this watch, sprouting corny shit about how this watch was a symbol of the promise that time will only bring us closer together as a family.

Six days later, Dad cheated on Mom.

I pull my car into an electronic repair shop and walk in. I know it's only a year old but the decor is made to internationally give it a rusty feeling. It's quite a small shop, but Keith has his stuff fixed here all the time.

There's an older man sitting in there who immediately stands as I walk in. “Welcome to Sam's and Future Sons,” he announces, beaming like he came up with that name himself. “I’m Timothy. How can I help you?”

So who's Sam? I don't care enough to ask. “I want a watch fixed.”

And what I still don't understand, till this day, is that Dad didn't have some sort of long-standing mistress. It wasn't that he loved this other woman, and is ready to run off with her. No, he threw away our family for a secretary he'd hired three days before the affair.

The largest fight I'd ever seen ensued. I watched as Mom threw lamps, tables, herself even at my dad. Then I attempted to calm them down, to make them stop smashing things, at least. But Mom didn't see me, it was obvious she didn't.

“I can do that. Fun fact, I once fixed a watch—”

I get it out of my pocket. He whistles as he sees it. “That's a fine piece, young man.”

I hand it to him without a word. He gently grabs it and flinches as if it burned him. “Oh, it's sticky. Did you spill something on it?”

“Yes.”

He nods sagely, as if he saw a vision that turned out to be true. “You have to be careful. This piece is fragile. At least it didn't fall, it would have shattered if it fell.”

She threw a vase, Dad jumped out of the way and it hit my head. And I fell, straight into the pile of broken glass.

I woke up with my parents by my hospital bed, my mom hysterically crying. The doctor said I was lucky; nothing was wrong with my brain, neither the fall nor any of the shards had done serious damage. Except for the ones that embedded themselves in my wrist. I'd lost a lot of blood, he said.

Right there they promised they wouldn't fight anymore, that she forgave him, that this would never happen again. Three months and ten days later, Mom slept with the gardener.

I nod perfunctorily. “Can you fix it?”

“Yeah, yeah. No big deal. It’ll be as good as new tomorrow.”

I get in my car, and start it up. I'm not going home, not yet. I don't want to, and besides I have a prior engagement.

It's twenty minutes out of town, and the smallest building in the whole block. I park in front of the boxing ring.

It's pretty straightforward during the day, you can register for classes or you can keep your skill up. That's not why I come here.

Adrian introduced me to it at night. My parents were right, Adrian was a bad influence. They were happy when he got locked up, but they were too busy fighting to notice the damage had already been done.

“Yo, pretty boy,” Keith calls.

I grin. That's what he called me the  Monday night I stumbled in here, looking for a fight after my parents were arguing for the third time that week. And he beat my ass until I went home and cried.

When I stumbled back in a few days later, and offered him money to teach me, he said he'd do it for free, if I fought him Monday every week.

And I have, every Monday since. The only difference is that I've gotten better at minimizing and dealing some damage of my own. And soon I'll be able to get in the underground ring, and survive. Keith doesn't take it easy on me, not in the slightest, but I want to see just how far I can go.

I grin and clasp his palm in a single, firm handshake. “You're here early. Eager for your ass whooping, huh?”

I nod, still grinning.

“Come on then.”

As Keith and I circle each other, I forget all that is going on in my life. I focus on the here and now, and I focus on not getting my face smashed in. The adrenaline pumps through my veins as Keith advances.

He cocks his hand back and throws his first punch. I see it and block it but I'm still too slow to stop the second one. His fist smashes into my stomach and I feel the pain echo throughout my whole body, dwarfing the pain in my chest.

This is exactly what I need.