by Laura Day
“When he started hitting her, she just started avoiding me. She knew I would lose it, and I don’t think she wanted to admit she was wrong. She had convinced herself that she loved him and she was willing to put up with all that abuse in order to keep him,” Jax said, keeping his tone low and even.
When he looked up at Maple, he could see the rush of emotion in her eyes. They looked glassy, almost wet, but there were no tears there. She gripped his hand a little tighter, and Jax went on grateful for the pressure and the strength that she was unknowingly giving him.
“One day I got a call from her. It was the first time she had contacted me in months. We hadn’t spoken since I’d told her that she was being stupid and blind and she told me to leave her alone so that she could get on with her life. I realized from her voice that something was wrong. I went to her apartment. Conor had beaten her up so badly that she could barely walk.”
“She had lost two of her teeth; she was bleeding in more places than I could count; and her face was completely unrecognizable. I rushed her to the hospital and got her admitted. She had two broken ribs, a punctured lung, bruises that covered the length of her, and she needed stitches in four different places.”
“Oh my God,” Maple breathed.
“And that fucking bastard that people are salivating over…he was the one who did that to her.”
“You tracked him down, didn’t you?” Maple guessed. “You wanted to punish him?”
“I didn’t want to punish him,” Jax said, shaking his head. “I wanted to kill him. I might have succeeded had it not been for the men who pulled me off him and called the cops. So I was sentenced, and that motherfucker walked.”
“How is that possible?” Maple asked in shock. “After what he did to your sister?”
“Conor had strings to pull,” Jax replied. “I don’t know how exactly he did it, but despite the evidence brought up against him, he was let out on bail with four hundred hours of community service to complete.”
“And you were sent to jail?” Maple asked incredulously.
“Two years in jail, and I never once forgot why I was in there,” Jax said harshly.
Silence fell between them, and Jax found himself reliving the day that he had told Jodie to leave Conor. She had been standing in her shitty apartment surrounded by unwashed dishes and old clothes that stunk of cigarettes. She had the same blue eyes that Jax did and light brown hair that brought out their color. She was several inches shorter than he was, but she had stood her ground, squared her shoulders, and refused to listen to him.
“I love him Jax,” she had said angrily, as though that was a good enough reason for staying.
“But does he love you?” Jax had demanded of her.
“Of course he loves me,” Jodie had insisted. “He’s just…passionate and sometimes that comes across in the wrong way.”
“You’re just making excuses for him,” Jax had shot back at her. “He’s a fucking psychopath and you deserve better.”
“Jax,” Jodie had said, trying to stay calm, “I’m finally happy. After everything you and I have been through, I would have thought that you’d be happy for me.”
“You only think you’re happy because you’re blind to his faults,” Jax had insisted. “You settling for him because you feel you don’t deserve anything better.”
“That’s not true.”
“It’s completely true.”
“Leave me alone, Jax,” Jodie had said with frustration in her eyes. “Just leave me alone and let me live my life. I can’t keep having this same conversation with you. I love him. End of story.”
Jax fast-forwarded to the day, months later, when he had received Jodie’s call. She had sounded different, and immediately Jax knew that something had gone wrong. He had rushed to her apartment only to find her on the floor, surrounded by little pools of blood that was seeping from different parts of her body. His body had grown cold, as he had looked her in the eye. She was not his beautiful little sister anymore. She was a broken woman, lying in a pool of blood and urine.
“Jax,” Maple’s voice was gentle, as she called him back from his sad mess of memories. “I can only imagine what you must be feeling. But if you go over there and confront him…you will go back to jail. And you can’t go back to jail.”
Jax took a deep breath, trying to really hear her words, but they were overpowered by the desire to bash Conor’s head into a wall and see his brains scattered across the bar’s counter. He felt Maple squeeze his hand, and he turned his eyes to her. She met his gaze and shook her head. “You can’t go back to jail Jax,” she repeated again, this time enunciating each word so that Jax could not escape them.
“I know,” he said at last.
“Then let’s go,” Maple suggested immediately. “Let’s walk out of this bar and leave Conor behind. Please.”
Her voice shook on the last word, and it made him want to reach out and pull her close to him. He made another attempt to push his rage aside. “You’re right,” he said finally. “We should go.”
They rose together carefully and moved around the back of the bar, hoping to avoid everyone’s eyes. Jax made sure that Maple was just behind him, as he tried to move as quickly as possible towards the bar’s entrance. He kept his head down as far as he could manage, knowing that if he saw Conor again, he would not be able to contain himself.
They were almost at the door; they were a few short feet away from walking out of the bar and into the cool night air when a clear, voice cracked through the room like a whip. Jax stopped in his tracks, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck rise. “Well, well, well…look who’s trying to sneak away without even saying hello.” Conor’s voice was crystal clear despite the music and laughter and conversation that filled the compact space.
Jax turned around slowly, deliberately, as he pushed Maple behind him. Conor was leaning against the bar with a drink in his hand. He had one leg hitched up with his elbows on the counter. His eyes were small and filled with open hatred, as he stared Jax down with a smile that was anything but friendly.
“You motherfucker,” Jax spat, narrowing his eyes as his fists clenched automatically.
“Those are fighting words,” Conor said casually. “You better be prepared to back them up.”
“If I recall the last time we met, I left you in a pool of your own piss,” Jax hissed.
The smile almost slid off Conor’s face, but he worked hard to keep it in place. He was obviously very aware of the audience the two of them had garnered with their little exchange. “As I recall,” Conor shot back slowly, “that’s how I remember leaving your sister.”
It was as if something burst in Jax’s head because the next thing he knew he had bridged the distance between himself and Conor. In one lightning fast move, he was trying to bash Conor’s head into the counter. Chaos erupted around them, as more people became aware of the fight that was taking place. Jax could feel hands grabbing at him, grasping at his clothes, trying to pull him off Conor. He was so blind with rage that he started to send punches everywhere, trying to get himself free so that he could finish Conor off once and for all.
It was no use. Four different guys who were trying to break up the fight pulled Jax off of Conor. Two men were restraining Conor himself. The smile had disappeared from his face. His eyes appeared to be bulging from his sockets, as he tried to shake himself free from the men who were holding him back.
“I’m going to fucking KILL YOU!” Conor screamed, as the veins on his neck and forehead popped.
“Not if I kill you first!” Jax yelled back.
Steve appeared between them. “Fuck guys. This is a bar. If you want to brawl, take it to the streets!”
“Let’s do it,” Conor said, as he stopped struggling.
“I’m ready,” Jax agreed. He felt as though he had been preparing for this moment from the second he had been sentenced.
Immediately, the crowd started moving outside towards the back alley, creating a barrier betwe
en Jax and Conor as they moved. They walked past the trashcans to the open space that was large enough to host a small crowd. Jax remembered Maple suddenly and turned around. She was a few feet away from him, behind a bunch of guys. Jax reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling her closer to him.
“Jax,” was all she said.
“Don’t worry, Maple,” Jax said in what he hoped was a comforting tone. “I’m not going to lose.”
With that, he turned and walked towards the center of the open space that the crowd had formed. Conor was already in the center, waiting for him. His eyes were focused, and he looked deadly, but Jax was confident. Even if Conor did end up having some measure of skill, Jax knew that he had years on him. They started circling each other with slow precision, both men acknowledging that this fight had been years in the making.
“Ready?” Conor asked.
“I’ve been ready for years.”
“Good,” Conor nodded. “Because I’m going to do to you, what I did to your sister.”
Jax shouted in rage as he began the fight. He came at Conor from an angle, making sure he kept his hands up to protect his face. Street fights were different from being in the ring; there were no rules here, but Jax put all of that out of his mind and concentrated on what he knew. His training would not let him down. Conor sent a well-aimed punch at Jax’s neck, but he was able to deflect it easily, throwing Conor off for a moment.
The next time Conor approached, Jax was ready. He blocked another punch, spun around, and sent three lightning-fast kicks to Conor’s groin, stomach, and face. Conor fell back slightly, but he didn’t lose balance. Jax started to realize just how skilled he really was. Conor had been trained well, and that could be seen in his attack and his strategic moves. The crowd was going wild around them. There were cheers and exclamations from the small throng of people. Jax didn’t know whom they were cheering for, and he didn’t care. He just wanted to see Conor on his knees, gasping for breath and begging for mercy.
Fifteen minutes in, and both men were bleeding from the face and panting heavily. Jax shook off the fatigue that was creeping up his muscles and focused. He caught a glimpse of Maple from the crowd and the desire to finish Conor off became more pronounced. He blocked Conor’s attack with his left arm and then swung onto the floor, pushing Conor off balance by skating through his legs. Conor hit the ground, and before he could recover, Jax had him in a tight headlock that he couldn’t break from. Conor’s hands grabbed at Jax, but he couldn’t release Jax’s vice-like grip. Jax could see Conor’s eyes start to bulge again, as he began to suffocate.
“Ready to die motherfucker?” Jax screamed, as he sent punches flying at Conor’s face one after the other without stopping. He felt discomfort flood through his punching arm, but Jax didn’t care. He just wanted to inflict as much pain as possible. He could hear the crowd scream, but he cut them out and kept punching like he had a quota to fill.
That was when he heard her voice. It was softer than all the rest but somehow it stood out to Jax, and he was unable to ignore it.
“Please Jax,” Maple cried. “Please don’t do this. It’s not worth it. It’s not worth it!”
Jax’s punches began to slow as the truth of her words started to sink in. If he killed Conor now, he would spend the rest of his life in jail. A part of him was shocked to realize that Maple was right. It wasn’t worth it. Seeing Conor lying dead on the ground was not worth spending a lifetime in jail. Jax sent one more punch flying at Conor’s face, and then he let his hand fall.
Chapter Nine
Maple
“Jax stop,” Maple cried, struggling to be heard over the screaming crowd. “Stop!”
The brutality of the fight was more than Maple could bear. She understood Jax’s need to fight. She understood his hatred for Conor. She understood that he had darkness in him that he couldn’t fight against. But she was scared. She was scared because he was so out of control; she was scared because he was so filled with anger and hatred; but mostly, she was scared because he fought as though his life was expendable.
When the fight started, it seemed like both men were evenly matched. Their skill was undeniable and their power was apparent in every punch they made. As the fight progressed, however, it was obvious that Jax had the edge. He had been fighting longer, and he had his technique burned down to an exact science. He was a little faster, a little stronger, and a little smarter.
It was when Jax had caught Conor in the headlock that Maple had felt as though she were about to faint. She could see the rage burning through Jax, and she knew instinctively that he wouldn’t stop. He kept sending punches at Conor’s face like a man possessed. Maple had pushed herself closer to the fight until she was as close to the two entwined men as it was possible to get.
“Please Jax,” Maple cried as loud as she could manage. “Please don’t do this. It’s not worth it. It’s not worth it!”
To her intense amazement and relief, it looked as though her words had registered. She saw Jax’s expression change slightly, and his punches became less fierce and less frequent. He sent one more deliberate punch at Conor’s face and then his hand fell to his side, and he released Conor in the same move. Conor fell lifeless to the ground, and Jax stepped away allowing the crowd to converge as Conor’s crew rushed to his side.
Jax sidestepped the people, grabbed Maple’s hand, and pulled her away from the crowd. A few people called out things to them as they passed, but Jax didn’t reply or acknowledge any of them. He pulled Maple along until they had cleared the back alley, and even then he didn’t stop. He kept his fast pace, dragging Maple along with him.
“Jax, wait,” Maple cried. “I can’t keep up.”
He came to a stop outside a closed bookshop, and Maple almost ran into him. “Sorry,” he said panting heavily. “I was just—”
“I know, it’s ok,” Maple said, immediately cutting him off. “But we’ve put enough distance between us and the fight.”
Jax nodded and took another deep breath. Maple was able to look at him properly now. He was bleeding from the face, and there were scratches that scaled up and down his arms. She had seen him look worse, but she still hated seeing it at all.
“We should get you cleaned up,” Maple said.
“My apartment is not far from here,” Jax offered.
“Ok,” Maple agreed, feeling a touch of nerves rush through her. “Let’s go.”
Jax seemed to have calmed down somewhat. His eyes were still conflicted as though he were sorting through the last few years of his life and trying to think of every decision that had led him to this moment. Without thinking, Maple reached out and took his hand. There wasn’t anything romantic about the gesture. She just wanted to give him support. She wanted him to know that he wasn’t alone if he didn’t want to be. At her touch, Jax turned his head towards her and gave her a small, distracted smile.
The city was filled with the sounds of vehicles, people, and plans. Everyone was going someplace, but all Maple wanted to do was find a little patch of quiet where she could sit and tend to Jax’s wounds. She realized he was also bleeding from the arm. It looked like an old wound had opened up again.
Jax led the way until they found themselves leaving behind the bustle of the city’s nightlife. Maple could hear the sounds of sirens in the distance and lights flashing from building roofs, but apart from that, there was more silence than noise. The neighborhood was rundown, almost shanty. Apartment buildings lined the street; graffiti and filth colored the walls in their explicit brightness.
Jax turned into an apartment building at the corner of the street. It was a tall, narrow building that held about twenty floors. Jax held the door open for Maple to walk through, and then he followed on her heels. Maple went instinctively towards the decrepit-looking elevator that stood in the apex of the landing’s lobby, but Jax steered her away.
“It doesn’t work,” he said gruffly.
“Which floor are you on?” Maple asked.
“The si
xteenth.”
The steps were spaced so far apart that by the fourth floor Maple’s calves were cramping up and her breath was coming short bursts. She pushed past the pain in her side and kept walking.
“Are you ok?” Jax asked.
“Fine,” Maple replied with a tight smile.
There was a small window at each landing before the next staircase took off. The windowpanes were stained and greasy and metal bars had been placed in front of them. Jax must have noticed her preoccupation. “We’ve had a few suicides,” he explained without emotion. “The bars were put on for prevention. It doesn’t make a huge difference though; there’s always the rooftop.”
