by York, Marie
“I’m so sorry. So, so sorry. For everything. Mom, I messed up and I don’t know how to fix it. Mackenzie’s gone, and I don’t know what to do. I need you. I need you to tell me what to do. Dad, don’t hate me. I did what I thought I had to. I didn’t know how else to survive.” Tears spilled from my eyes, landing on the warm stone. I clutched the stone, sobbing uncontrollably, until I couldn’t possibly shed another tear. Then, I leaned back and ran my fingers along Matthew’s name. “Matthew, it should’ve been me. It should’ve been me. I wish it were me.”
The final memory thrust itself forward, and I had no choice but to let it. I braced myself as I began to relive the worst day of my life.
It was a usual warm and beautiful day in Livermore, California. It was my eighteenth birthday, and Mom and Dad were on their way to pick up my cake. They asked me to come with them since Mom and I had designed the cake and she was excited for us to see it. But, my hair needed curling, and the outfit I wanted to wear didn’t look the way I thought it did. The party was in two hours, and there was no way I’d be ready in time if I went.
“Come on,” Mom said, pleading with me in the doorway. She pouted her lip, and I laughed.
“You taught me that. It’s not going to work on me.”
“Don’t you want to see it?” she asked, practically bouncing up and down with excitement.
“I do, but I’ll see it at the party,” I said, as I applied another layer of mascara. “Besides, if I go, then we’ll have to get Mackenzie in the car, too, because we both know her and Matthew cannot be trusted alone together.”
“They’ll be fine,” Mom said.
As if on cue, Mackenzie came charging in my room with Matthew hot on her heels. He was short for his age, but we expected a growth spurt any day. Dad said he grew six inches between the age of thirteen and fifteen. Matthew rubbed his nose that had a scatter of freckles across it, a feature he hated because one of his little asshole friends referred to them as shit stains. His hazel eyes, like my own, were wild with childlike anger. “Give it back,” he demanded as Mackenzie curled under my legs and hid.
“What is going on?” Mom asked, grabbing Matthew by the shoulder, and stopping him while I stepped back, revealing Mackenzie.
She held his video game in her small hands and shrugged. “He wouldn’t let me play, so I took it.”
“Mackenzie,” Mom said, holding her hand up to Matthew, as she crouched down to Mackenzie. “Stealing your brother’s game is not how you get him to let you play.”
“But I asked nicely, and he still wouldn’t let me play with him!”
Mom turned to Matthew. “Why can’t she play with you?”
“It’s a war game. She’s too young.”
“I am not,” she pouted, and planted her hands on her hips.
Mom held her hand up to Mackenzie this time, and I swear that hand held magical powers. All she had to do was hold it up, and we all stopped whatever we were doing or saying and waited for her to continue.
Dad came into the doorway, all bright smile and cheery. He was always like that: the light in any room he walked into, full of life and unyielding joy. Matthew looked just like him, and I imagined, in twenty years, that uncanny resemblance would only get stronger. “We have to head out or we’re going to be late,” Dad said, tapping his wrist as if there was a watch there.
“Mila doesn’t want to come, and I’m breaking something up here,” Mom offered over her shoulder.
Dad walked in the room, bent down, and scooped Mackenzie up. She let out a loud squeak before falling into a fit of giggles. “What’s going on?” he asked as he spun Mackenzie around as if she weighed nothing. He dipped her down like a plane, and then landed her back on her feet.
“Matthew won’t let me play his game!” she tattled.
“He won’t?!” Dad exclaimed with mock shock. “I bet that’s because the game really isn’t any fun.” He winked at Matthew over Mackenzie’s shoulder.
“Why don’t you take Matthew with you to get the cake, and Mackenzie can stay here with me? You can help me pick out an outfit.”
A huge smile spread across her angelic face, and her eyes shown bright. “Really? Can I help you with your makeup, too?” There was no way in hell I was going to let her help me with my makeup. The last time I let her anywhere near me with makeup, I wound up looking like a clown who ran away from the circus, but if it would end this whole mess… “Of course.”
“Yay!” Mackenzie yelled as she jumped up and down. She turned back to Matthew, and held out his game. “I don’t want to play your stupid game anyway.”
“Mackenzie!” Mom reprimanded.
“Sorry. It’s not stupid.”
Dad wrapped his arm around Matthew’s shoulder. “Come on, we’ll have fun. I’ll even let you pick something out at the bakery.”
Matthew rolled his eyes. “Fine.”
“Mackenzie, behave for Mila,” Mom said, and followed Dad and Matthew out.
It would be the last time I saw them.
I wiped away the new onslaught of tears as the memory faded. If I had known then that I would never see them again, I would have given them a hug, and told them I loved them. Something more than the wave over my shoulder I offered.
Most of all, I would have went with them. None of them deserved to die, but Matthew… he was only thirteen. He hadn’t even hit his growth spurt yet. “It should have been me!” I cried out. It should have been me!”
I sent my brother to his death, and it was something that I couldn’t bear to live with. So, instead of remembering him, instead of honoring his memory, I erased him from my life completely. The worst part was, I forced Mackenzie to forget him, too. I refused to talk about him, refused to look at any old pictures. She asked me about him once, and I yelled at her. I yelled at her for wanting to remember her brother… Mom would have never done that.
No wonder Mackenzie left me.
Chapter 12
Knox
Sweat dripped down my forehead as I landed jab after jab to Coach’s pads. I’d been training for hours, refusing to stop for even a sip of water. I was back, and determined to get back on top. Rest was for the weak, and I wasn’t fucking weak. I was a goddamned machine who would not be taken down. Not now, and not ever.
I zoned into the pads, and everything else faded away. The red pads morphed in Bronx’s face. His face was ingrained in my mind from the countless hours I spent studying his fights. I knew everything about him. His favorite move: the flying knee. His weakness: can’t resist a takedown opportunity, even if it’s risky. My fist slammed into the pad over and over when Coach finally stumbled back.
“Okay, there, take it down a notch,” Coach said, breathing heavier than usual and taking his hand out of the pads to give them a good shake.
“You okay there, Old Man?”
“I’m fine,” he grumbled. “Just need a break. We’ve been going all damn day.”
I smacked my hands together, and bounced from foot to foot. I was pumped. You would never know that I had been training all day. Coach, on the other hand, was looking tired with bags under his eyes and a slump to his shoulder.
The phone in Coach’s office rang, and he lowered himself out of the ring.
“Why don’t you go take some of that energy out on the bag? Practice your flying knee. We want you to take him down with his own signature move. And, once you know how to master the move, you’ll know how to avoid it,” Coach said, before hurrying off to his office.
I walked over to the bag, and got into my stance: hands up, feet apart, knees bent, and shoulders tucked. I jumped up with my right, and forced my left forward, knocking into the bag. I stepped back into position, and imagined Bronx in front of me. I did it again, going for the body shot. And then, again, going for the face.
Bronx has won fights with this move: one knee to the right spot, and he won on a knockout. There was no way in fucking hell that I was going to let him get a high knee on me, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to let
him knock me out. If anyone was going to get knocked out, it was going to be him.
I knew one thing for sure. When I got my chance to fight him, blood would be shed, limits would be pushed, but, in the end, I would be the last man standing.
Coach came out of his office with a stupid grin on his face, a mix of shock and thrill. “What’s going on?” I questioned.
“I just got off the phone with your agent. He tried to call your cell.”
“It’s in my locker,” I said, as I continued to punch the bag. “What did he want?”
A slow smile formed on Coach’s lips. “JoJo was caught with steroids.”
My hands fell from their ready position, and I held the bag from swinging. “What are you saying?” I asked, my heart beating wildly in my chest.
“The title has been vacated. It’s up for the taking to the top two in the division. Your fight with Bronx just got more interesting,” he said, and the words began to sink in.
Excitement exploded inside of me, and I tried to keep my cool as I confirmed. “The two of us are fighting for the title?”
Coach finally let his excitement bubble over, and he slapped me on the back. “For the title!” he declared.
“For the title!” I yelled, throwing my arms around Coach as we celebrated. Guys on the other side of the gym stopped what they were doing and glanced in our direction. “For the fucking title!” I yelled again, and pumped my fist into the air.
Applause erupted around us as people began to understand what all the commotion was about. One by one, they started jogging over to me, offering me pats on the backs and congratulations.
Each pat and each kind word was kindling to my fire and, by the time the last person stepped up to congratulate me, I was a full blown inferno.
Everything became very clear in that moment. I was going to the top. I was going the entire fucking way.
Chapter 13
Mila
I used to dread mornings, thinking there wasn’t enough coffee in the world to get Mackenzie out of bed and on the bus. Now, as I sat at the counter, all alone, and clutching my mug so tightly, I longed for those days.
It had been two hours since I got home, and I hadn’t even bothered to take off my work clothes. The first couple of weeks, I couldn’t stand to be in them anymore than I could stand to be up on a stage taking them off. But, as time went by, I became numb. I was no longer disgusted by the life I was living because I just didn’t care, and I had nobody to care for me. So, I went through the motions, doing my best to be the old Starr, when I took the stage and performed lap dances in the back room.
I took my coffee to the couch, and turned the TV on. The morning news was on, and I went to change the channel when Knox’s face appeared on the screen.
The sportscaster slammed his hands down on his desk and smiled. “Who would have seen this coming? Knox McArthur doesn’t only get to fight the second best in his division, but now he gets to go after the title he lost, after JoJo Lopez was caught with steroids, and the title was vacated! It is going to be one heck of a match as these two go head to head in the summer. The payout will be huge, and McArthur will get the chance to prove himself again, or accept that his time has passed. It is a fight I will be looking forward to, and I’m sure I’m not the only one.”
The anchor joined in on the conversation as they both spoke excitedly about the upcoming fight. This was huge. Knox had the chance to win it all back. I picked up my phone, wanting so desperately to talk to him, but, before I could tap the screen, I dropped the phone into my lap.
He was perfectly clear that he no longer wanted me in his life. I hadn’t seen him since that day I showed up on his door step. He hadn’t stopped by, or even called. It was blatantly obvious that he had moved on. I was just a speck in his rearview mirror, and it was time I let him go.
I shut the TV off, and put my mug on the coffee table. My eyes went right to Mackenzie’s bedroom. Lately, when I felt lost or alone, I’d go in there and sit on her bed. Everything was exactly how she left it, and I could pretend, even if it was for only a moment, that nothing had changed.
I got up from the couch, and made my way there. I sat down on her bed, and smoothed my hand over the comforter. Even though I knew she wasn’t coming back, I still held on to hope. I used to think hope made me weak, but now it was the only thing that kept me going.
Her wall calendar was a month behind, and I walked over to it, smiling at the pigs in sunglasses. I flipped it to the right month, and pinned it back into place. My eyes immediately landed on the big circle around the fifteenth. That was today. It took me a second to remember what that meant, when it suddenly dawned on me. It was Mackenzie’s seventeenth birthday.
I flopped back down on the bed. I completely forgot, not that it was surprising. After our parents, and Matthew, died on my own birthday, I stopped celebrating them. There was no point. It just reminded me of all that I had lost.
How could I do that to Mackenzie? She was nine when they died, and had so many birthdays to look forward to. Instead, I took the excitement of them away. Denied her of one of the biggest pleasures in life. She never got to blow out the candles, wear a stupid pointy hat, or open gifts. It was just another day on the calendar.
A pesky tear slipped down my cheek, and I swiped at it angrily. Ever since I opened myself back up to emotions, I cried over every stupid thing. But, this wasn’t stupid at all. It was just more proof of how horribly I failed my sister.
I had been thinking a lot over the past month about how things would have played out if I had gone in place of Matthew that god awful day. I would like to think that life would have been worse for Matthew and Mackenzie. They would have been put into foster care, no question about it. Probably would have been separated and bounced around from house to house, hoping a family would fall in love with them enough to adopt them. But, that was highly unlikely because most adopters were looking for infants and young children.
This was all fucked up. This was why I turned off emotions, and encouraged Mackenzie to do the same. But, as I looked across the room at that big circle, I realized they probably would have been better off. Mackenzie would have at least celebrated her birthday every year. Possibly would have had a cake, and maybe even a card or two.
I sat there, staring at that stupid circle, and it became obvious to me that she never really did stop celebrating. She did it in her own way, whatever that may have been. She just hid it from me, and that made me feel all the worse.
I wished, wherever she was, that she at least got to have a piece of cake. I reached for her pillow, and hugged it tightly to my chest. I kicked my legs up, and curled into a ball, rocking myself back and forth.
“Happy Birthday, Mackenzie.” It was the first time I had said it in seven years, and she wasn’t even here to hear it.
Chapter 14
Knox
It was a quarter past nine, and I was running late. Twenty minutes late to be exact. Coach was going to have my ass on a platter if I didn’t get to the gym soon. I had business to attend to with the foundation, and couldn’t let it go unattended to. Not that Coach would care. We had a fight to train for. Every minute counted.
I rushed out the door and to the gym. When I got inside, there was an eerie quiet over the place. Guys were huddled in groups all about, but no one was working out. There were hushed whispers as I walked toward Coach’s office when a hand suddenly landed on my shoulder.
I turned to one of the rookies, Lex, I think was his name. “What’s going on?” I asked.
“Sorry to be the one to break it to you,” he said. “But Coach just left in an ambulance.”
“What do you mean, he left in ambulance? Did someone get hurt?”
“They think it was a…a heart attack.”
My heart skittered to a stop. I reached out to the wall behind me to keep my knees from buckling. I did it again. I was too late. I should’ve been here a half hour ago. If I was I would have been here for him just like I should have been
there for Zoey.
“Is he?” I swallowed down the lump forming in my throat unable to get the word out. It was a disgusting word that was bitter on my tongue.
Lex laughed. “No, he was bitching the entire time while they were carrying him out. Swearing he could walk himself to the ambulance.”
Relief flooded me, and I patted Lex on the shoulder as I ran by. “Thanks,” I called out as I took off running. I wasn’t too late. I would get to the hospital and see him, and he would be fine. He had to be. We had a fight to train for, and I couldn’t do it without him.
I floored it out of the parking lot, and broke every traffic law in the city of Vegas as I hauled ass to the hospital. Just let a cop try to pull me over right now. I wasn’t stopping for shit.
At the hospital, I didn’t even bother pulling into a space. I didn’t want to waste any more time. So, I drove my Hummer up on the curb and jumped out.
Inside, I ran to a woman at a desk. I gave her Coach’s name, and waited impatiently as she tapped her fingers on the counter. “He’s in ICU. Are you family?” she asked.
“Yes,” I lied because I knew she would give me a hard time. She wouldn’t be able to stop me from getting in, but I wanted to avoid as much of a scene as possible. Coach wasn’t too happy when I got arrested at the strip club. I’m sure making a disturbance at a hospital wouldn’t be a proud moment for him either. Even if I was trying to get to him.
“Who are you to him?” she questioned.
I rubbed my chin, trying to rein in my temper. “His nephew,” I said.
“Do you have I.D?”
“Are you serious?” I asked and having had enough of this fucking bullshit I stormed off not even glancing back when the woman screamed out to me. I knew where the ICU was. I had visited the hospital on many occasions to spend time with the kids in the cancer wing.
The elevator wouldn’t be fast enough for me, so I took off up the stairs, not stopping until I got to the third floor. I ran out and rounded the corner to the ICU.