"Weekly is fine. Are there laundry facilities here?"
"Across the street. That will be two-hundred and fifty dollars."
I gladly paid the man. I could actually afford the cost and had a few dollars leftover in my pocket for some food. I just hoped the place wasn't worse than what I came from. If I had to, I could probably stay two or three more months, until I saved up the money and found a nicer place. At least I would have a roof over my head. I had another fight coming up at the end of the month, and I would have more money in my pocket by then. I got the key and carried the bags from the trunk of my car up to the door that was to be my new home.
I was just about to slide the key into the lock when I heard a woman whistle behind me. "Well, well, what do we have here...hmmm."
I turned around in time to catch a flash of leg and the top of a breast spilling out of her top before she was almost on top of me.
"You'll be a pleasure to do. I'll give you my special $75 dollars and I'm yours for the night, sugar."
"Not interested, thanks," I said, pushing her off my arm. She flipped me the bird and went off in search of another customer. I needed out of places like this. All the more reason to get on John's ass to get me into these bigger fights. I slid the key into the lock and opened the door.
The stale air that met my face told me that the room hadn't been opened in a while, but it had been cleaned. As I stepped inside I could tell from the looks of things this place was cared for. I dropped my bags onto the floor just inside the door and walked farther inside. As I stepped, it didn't feel like the floor was about to give way like the last place.
I walked into the bathroom and turned the water on and washed away the dried blood on my hands from where they had split open this morning. Even the water pressure here was better than in the last place, and the sink was actually on a vanity. The toilet was beside it. I chuckled to myself and walked back into the room.
The small kitchenette didn't have much to cook with other than a microwave, but I had my hot plate. I opened the small bar fridge and could feel the cool air fall from it and smiled at the fact I wouldn't need to worry about food rotting.
I grabbed the last few bags from my trunk and brought them inside and opened the two tiny windows on either side of the door before flopping down on the bed. The mattress didn't groan like the last one, and I didn't have springs shooting up into my back. It was actually pretty comfortable. I grabbed the remote and threw the TV on and flipped through the stations. Only fifteen channels, but it was twelve more than I had gotten in my last place.
As I looked around the room, the TV droning on in the background, I finally felt things might be changing. I was moving up in the world, I could feel it. Now all I needed was to secure a spot in the big fight at the end of the next month, get a contract, and head off to the bright lights of the Vegas MMA.
Chapter 8
Katy
My heart raced as I lay in bed. The mere thought that it was Jonas' handprint on my windshield had sent me into a tossing, turning fit while I tried to get some sleep. I finally gave up after four hours and got up. All I could concentrate on was packing up and getting out of this place. If he were in fact following me, he could show up at any minute and bang down my door and I wouldn't stand a chance.
I didn't want to take any chances and wash my scrubs at the laundromat, so instead I left them in the bag they had come home with me in and I began to pack the rest of my clothes in my suitcases. Once one was full, I carefully packed the remainder of my things in the other suitcase and spare duffel bag and loaded everything into my car. I quickly ran to the grocery store nearby and got a large box to put the few kitchen supplies I had in it, along with the few items I had bought for the week.
As I continued to pack, I thought about how I had gotten here. I remembered leaving my old town, my pretty little house with the large yard, like it was yesterday. Only it had now been six months; I had been on the run for six months.
My mind quickly flashed back to the day I had made my escape. We'd only had a couple of hours until Jonas returned, so we had to work fast. He had gone to the gym like he did every morning. His workouts were normally two hours, but most days he was gone for three or four. Still, I didn't want to take that chance that today he would come back early and that he would return all jacked up on adrenaline and juice.
I had enlisted the help of my three best friends and their husbands to come and help me pack and load up everything. There was barely enough time with all of us, and since everything in the place belonged to me, which wasn't much, I had decided it was coming with me. While the men loaded the furniture and other heavy items into the U-Haul, us women took care of the little things. Since Jonas had always been around, the only few things I had packed up were the items that were most precious to me and the ones I didn't want broken in one of our fights, wrapped them carefully and placed them into boxes. One night when he had asked me what I was doing, I had lied and told him that I was selling them.
With the help of the girls, my clothing was packed into three large suitcases, while the other packed up the bathroom stuff, and I packed up the kitchen. The whole process took us less than an hour and a half, and with the U-Haul packed, my clothes, toiletries, and a few kitchen supplies packed into the back of my car, we drove off towards the storage facility. I had decided to leave what little food there was in the fridge and the cupboards; I would just get new wherever I settled.
Sarah, who was in real estate, had talked me into renting the place out, which would mean I would have to evict Jonas. She helped me file all the correct documents last week, and she would mail the notice to him after I was gone to make sure I was safe. She said until I decided if I was going to keep the house and move back later, at least I could use the income from the rent as pocket money after the mortgage had been paid.
When we finally pulled up outside the storage facility, Sarah ran in and rented a locker. There was no way I could chance that Jonas might actually check out this place. He wasn't a stupid man, and I needed to protect myself in any and every way I could. Within minutes, Sarah walked out of the main office with a key in hand, and we drove inside the compound and began unloading everything. We weren't halfway finished when my cellphone rang. With shaky hands, I pulled the phone from my pocket and glanced down at the screen.
"Hi, Helen." I breathed heavily into the phone. "Everything okay?"
"Katy, Jonas just got home." Her voice shook as she spoke, "He went into the house, started shouting, and is now outside in the front yard throwing things around. He has already broken two windows, and I'm pretty sure he may have kicked the door in. Please, please tell me you're safe, honey."
Helen had always been concerned about me. Over the last few months, she had also noticed the bruises on me and had asked me numerous times if he had been hurting me. Of course, I covered for him all the time, until the last time he had beaten me, when I needed immediate help. I had quietly gone out the back door of the house and went to Helen's and waited there until Sarah could get there. Helen knew I was planning to leave today. She also knew if I wasn't gone before Jonas arrived, I probably wouldn't live.
"Thanks, Helen. I'm safe. I'll call the police, but please, whatever you do, do not go outside or open your door if he bangs on it." I hung up the phone and, together with my friends by my side, we quickly made an anonymous call to the police. I feared for Helen, in case he took his rage out on her. They were sending cars right away, and we continued to quickly unload the U-Haul.
I signed over all the final documents Sarah needed to look after the house, smiled at her, and handed her her pen. I hoped to one day return to it, but with me needing to be so far away, she needed to have full control over what was going on with it.
"All right, bug, you drive as far as you can today and call us when you get there." Paul said, "Sarah and I will take the U-Haul back for you."
I nodded. I was scared to say the least, but I knew I couldn't stay here. Jonas would eventua
lly end up killing me. It would only be a matter of time.
Paul stopped me before I got into the car and handed me a wad of bills. "From us, a little emergency money," he said, shoving it into my hand and kissing my forehead.
I stared down at the bills in my hand. "Guys, I can't take this," I said, shoving the money back at Paul.
"Yes, you can. Now, you’d better go," he said, pulling me in for a final hug.
With tears in my eyes, I climbed into the front seat of the car and placed the cash into my purse. As I drove away, I looked in my rearview mirror to see them all watching and waving as I drove off into the proverbial sunset.
That night I drove as far east as I could, only stopping for coffee, food, and gas. When I could no longer keep my eyes open, that was when I pulled off into a motel hidden in the heart of a little city in the middle of nowhere. I stayed the night, parking my car behind the building, out of sight from the road.
Once in my room, I pulled the curtains tightly closed and not only locked the doors, but also pulled the empty dresser in front of it. That way should Jonas have followed and found me, I would have some kind of warning that he was coming in.
Not much had changed in the past six months as I looked over my shoulder to the door and saw the dresser pulled across it. This had been my life since I had left, hopping hotel to hotel, always looking over my shoulder. It was getting tiring, to say the least.
I felt so defeated. Every time I got comfortable somewhere, clues that he was following me would subtly start to appear. It was as if he were taunting me, giving me clues, biding his time. I couldn't risk staying in one place any longer than a couple of months. As soon as I would see the clues start to appear, I would pack up and move to the next hotel in the area, hoping he wouldn't find me. I really didn't want to start having to search for a new job or start a new life all over again, but if I had to move farther east, I would.
I could feel the panic starting to settle in my chest, making it hard for me to breathe. I sat down on the edge of the bed, taking a quick break and looking around at the scattered mess. All of this was because I had seen a huge handprint on the window of my car.
"You're so stupid. You should have purchased a new car," I mumbled to myself, "not just register this one to the state."
I had made one mistake out of all of this, and that was it, and I'd never let myself live it down. I had been trying to conserve what little money I had, but in hindsight, this was my safety and that should have come first. I took a few deep breaths, grabbed a bottle of coke from my little bar fridge, and took a sip.
I didn't have anyone here who I could turn to for help, and I didn't want to worry my friends back home; they had done enough for me. I also didn't know any of the nurses or doctors at the hospital well enough to ask them for help either. The only one I could say I knew was Mollie, and that was only because she worked right beside me and liked to tell me about all her problems. I hadn't told her any of mine, mainly because I didn't want pity from her or anyone else. I just new that I needed to feel and be safe, and at this moment, I felt none of those things. Honestly, I had no idea if that handprint was even his, but something in my gut told me it was better to be safe than sorry.
My only option was to move. I got back up and continued packing the last few articles of clothing and zipped up the bag, then gathered the remainder of my things. I loaded my suitcases into the back of my car and went back into my room, packing up what little food I had left, along with my hot plate. As soon as it was all in my car, I walked across the parking lot to the main office and checked out of the extended stay. I thanked my lucky stars—well, the few I had—that I only had to pay per week here. That had been part of the appeal of staying here, because I never knew how long I would be able to stay. With only paying a week at a time, if I had to pack up early, I had only wasted money on a couple of days.
I turned over my key and walked back across the parking lot, removing my sweatshirt and throwing it onto the passenger seat. I climbed into my car and opened my Google maps. I searched for another extended stay hotel, finally finding one on the other side of town. It would be farther from the hospital, but it would have to do.
I backed my car out of my parking spot and made my way over to my next home, praying that it was only my imagination and Jonas wasn't really out there looking for me.
Chapter 9
Dagger
My body lay half under the covers as I floated in and out of sleep and relished in the quietness of my new place, which was so much nicer than the last place I was in. I would have been woken half a dozen times or so throughout the night with people fighting and screaming at one another. Even though the outside of the place looked like a dive, it was clean and as quiet as a church.
I took a few deep breaths and stretched. Mentally, I felt like a million bucks after an entire week of eight solid hours of sleep a night, but my body was still exhausted. I was always like this when healing up after a fight. I could feel the exhaustion in my body with every fiber of my being, and I knew I had to get up and head to the gym. That was my routine everyday: gym, errands, home...wherever home may be at that time, and then I would do it all over the next day. Not much changed in my life from day to day.
I sat up and looked around the room. The only thing missing from my life now was a little excitement—of the legal kind, of course—and a good woman. Other than that, I was as happy as I could be with my life, I guess. Less complications and less issues.
Although, like everybody, I had my share of other kinds of issues. Most of them, though, had never truly been mine. They were mostly friends or guys from the gym who had needed advice. I had watched them all make some huge mistakes and ruin their lives and careers over one night of poor choices. All of these decisions came from the pressure in our business, but me? I was going to do it the right way. I planned to stay clean and keep my nose to the ground and stay far, far away from anything or anyone that would steer me the other way. That was also part of the reason I wouldn't date a ring girl. Most of them were so wrapped up in drugs that one slip, one night of partying, and I could easily see my career going down the toilet. That was another reason why I never once faltered off my routine; it kept me out of trouble.
I got up. I had lounged around as long as I could. I went and jumped in the shower, letting the hot water run over my aching muscles. I still had a bit of a backache from the last fight, but I had finally stopped peeing blood a few days ago—a few more days than the doctor had warned me about.
I stood under the spray of the shower, and once the heat got into my muscles and I stopped aching, I shut the shower off and dried, wrapping the towel around my waist. Not only did the hot water last past the end of my shower here, but the towels here were better, I thought to myself.
I grabbed jeans and T-shirt from my bag and threw them on and quickly made my morning workout shake: spinach, broccoli, a few berries, kale, mixed with a couple of scoops of protein powder and water. I downed the green liquid, rinsed my cup, and headed out the door.
I stepped out of the changing room and made my way out to meet my trainer. The gym was busier than normal this morning. I looked around finally spotted him in the corner with another young fighter I hadn't seen before, so I headed over to the warm-up area and started on my own. I began with stretching, and once I was finished, all the stiffness had left my body, then it was on to my warmup. This morning’s routine was mostly body weight exercises, push-ups, wall sits, planks, a little balancing on the BOSU, followed by some heavy lifting, and then off to the punching bag. Every hit I delivered to that bag felt great. I still didn't have full range of motion, but my trainer was sure it would be back before I knew it. Then we hit the ring for a quick sparring match.
"Don't show your pain to your opponent, Dag. You got this. The next big match is in a couple of weeks. You need to be ready," he shouted from the sidelines as the guy I was sparring against punched me in the kidney area, causing me to go down. I was still severely br
uised back there, and I called a time out as I breathed through the pain on my hands and knees until it subsided and I could get back up.
"I got it, don't worry," I mumbled as I made my way over to the side of the ring for water. "Fighting while in pain has taught me not to show my weaknesses to my opponents, unless they hit me there right now," I said, squeezing water into my mouth.
"Why do you think I always make you come in, regardless of your condition?"
I nodded. "I know, so I learn." That strength alone had come in handy during many fight nights. He said it was part of my secret, me hiding my weaknesses but learning how to watch for theirs and taking advantage of them when I could. It had been a hard thing to learn, taking time and patience, but it was easier to learn how to do that during practice than it was in the middle of a real match, in a real ring. I owed a lot to my trainer; he was the one who had instilled the good old “Practice makes perfect” mentality in my head when I first started with him, and soon perfect was what I started to achieve during the fights that mattered, the ones that earned me money, and the ones that would further my career.
"You going to be ready for Vegas? The scouts will be out soon," he said, passing me a towel to wipe the sweat from my brow.
"Does that mean you got me into that match at the end of next month?" I asked.
He nodded. "Yep, just waiting for the confirmation call. You're sure you're going to be ready? There is nothing wrong with waiting another month or two."
"Yep, coach, I'll be ready." Vegas was calling me. I was ready for the big-time matches, where the real money lied.
"All right, I guess that is it for today, Dag. You trained hard today."
I climbed out of the ring, dripping with sweat, and made my way back to the changing room with my trainer.
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