Fighting For Air

  Fighting For Air

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  A Novel By

  Taylor McNiff

  To all survivors of abuse

  who, despite it all, are still standing.

  May you never stop fighting for air.

  & to the man who turned me into one of them, thank you.

  Without you, I would not be

  the amazingly strong and talented woman

  I am today.

  Without you, Aubrey would not be free.

  Prologue

  Aubrey

  The advertisement was pinned on a bulletin board, just between last week’s coupons and a poster for a lost puppy. It was the kind with pull tabs at the bottom, three of them already taken.

  The grocery store was mostly quiet that morning, with just a few people milling around. I still made sure to look around twice before grabbing a tab, careful not to be seen by anyone. Once I had it, I stepped back from the board as if it caught fire. I crushed the paper in my hand and held it there as I continued to grab a cart.

  The usual boy stocking shelves smiled at me as I chose a loaf of bread. His eyes watched as I continued down the aisle and turned the corner. I shivered his gaze off my skin and took a deep breath.

  His attention made my skin crawl, so I hurried through the aisles, only pausing once to grab a box of tampons. I arrived at the checkout with only two things off my list, something I would pay for later. The girl smiled at me and asked if I found everything okay. With effort, I smiled back. The piece of paper was damp now, sticking to my palm. I assured her that, yes, I found everything just fine.

  The bag boy offered to carry my bag to the car. I declined. It’s policy, I knew, but I still wondered if there was a different motive at play. It was just one bag and I managed it easily, dumping it in the backseat before taking my spot behind the wheel.

  Ice snaked through my body, causing shivers I couldn’t control. I wasn’t sure if it was the cool fall morning, or my fear. My right hand was shaking too hard under the weight of the paper, so I used my left to turn the key in the ignition. Hot air hit my face, the vents on full blast from my morning drive. To pass the time, I double checked the locks on the door and made sure my phone didn’t have any missed calls.

  While I waited to warm up, I listened to Pink Floyd and counted the cars on the road. Only four passed by before the song ended. The shaking hadn’t stopped. It was fear, as I suspected.

  The radio was suddenly too loud, so I turned it down. Classic rock soothed a lot of things but that moment wasn’t one of them.

  I scanned the parking lot again. I had cursed living in a town with a minute population before, but at that moment it was convenient. Almost a blessing, if I believed in such nonsense. I took one final, cleansing breath. Ready or not, it was time. If I continued to hesitate, my phone would be lighting up with a call. Grocery shopping, especially for only two out of all the needed items, shouldn’t take this long.

  It takes a considerable amount of effort to uncurl my fingers. The paper was smaller than my palm. Since I had been pressing it so firmly into my sweaty skin, the ink was bleeding. Thankfully, I could still read it. Using my elementary school teacher’s advice, I read it seven times and hoped it would stick like it was supposed to. Just to be safe, I closed my eyes and repeated it from memory another seven. Then I rolled down my window and threw it out. On the drive home, I continued to repeat it.

  Self-defense classes. First session free.

  Call Rob @ 555-8102.

  By the time I pulled into a parking space at the apartment complex, the information was braille on the buds of my tongue. I hoped, when he kissed me, that he would not be able to read it.

  Chapter One

  Caden

  She looks just about ready to take on the world. No one notices her, which is surprising in a gym so over-populated with guys. Jason surveys his clipboard with a cocked smile, like he’s in on a secret, then turns to the girl and begins speaking. Even though my water bottle is full, I head to the fountain so I can eavesdrop.

  “Make yourself at home,” Jason wraps up whatever he was saying and gestures to the open gym.

  The girl hesitates, her fingers raking through her long ponytail. Soft strands of brown hair settle back on the hood of her baggy sweatshirt. “I can just go wherever?”

  “Yup. I want you to feel comfortable before we start. So, go get a good workout in, get a feel for the place. Then come let me know your decision.”

  The girl lifts her chin and surveys the area. I can’t imagine how the place must seem to her. The sweat soaked air and obnoxious grunting is probably enough to send any pretty girl running. Hell, it’s almost enough to send me running most days.

  I give up the act of filling an overflowing water bottle and openly watch her make way through the stations of equipment. The guys all start to stare. With each step, she seems to grow taller.

  Settling herself in front of an older heavy bag, she begins strapping on her gloves. Despite never being here before, she’s right at home.

  “Who is that?” I ask in my best not that I care voice. It takes a second before Jason blesses me with an answer.

  “She’s our new fighter.” I raise my eyebrows but keep my mouth shut. “I found her at a local fight downtown. She’s good.”

  “A local fight? She’s from here?” I scoff. This little town in Wisconsin doesn’t produce much talent. Out of the 21,000 people who live here, only one has made it big. The idea that this place could crank out not one, but two, professional fighters? There’s not a chance. Jason picked this place for his gym because he needed a break from the fast life, not because it was overflowing with talent.

  “What, you’re only one in this shit-hole town that can fight?” He rolls his eyes at me, putting my ego in place. “Like I said, she’s good.”

  “Where was she training before?”

  “A basement. She started with self-defense classes.”

  I grit my teeth and turn my attention back to her. Self-defense. That’s sloppy work. That’s fighting to survive, not fighting to win.

  Shoulder to shoulder, we study her. The neon sign of raw talent hangs above her and the bag. Form wise, she’s way off the mark, but the power is there. A little more meat on her bones, a little more training, and she could be something. Not my level, but something.

  “I can work with that,” I inform Jason. Leaving him behind, I head her way. Each station I pass is filled with quiet whispers. If I wasn’t so shocked myself, I would be annoyed with them. In all reality, though, it’s a rare event. Jason has never taken a girl at Elite Gym before.

  The girl slams her fist into the bag for the last time, finishing her combination. She looks at it as it swings, an artist appreciating her masterpiece.

  “How’d that feel?” She startles. Two wide blue eyes focus on my face, catching me off guard. I don’t think I’ve ever seen eyes so damn bright. I offer her a smile but she doesn’t accept it. Instead, I’m rewarded with hands on her hips and a raised voice.

  “Why would you sneak up on someone like that?”

  “Uh, sorry?” I keep smiling because I know Jason is watching. When I take a step forward to extend my calloused hand, she slinks back. With an awkward thump, I bring my hand back to my side.

  “Okay, then. I’m Caden.”

  She surveys the gym for a moment before allowing her eyes to meet mine again.

  “Aubrey.” She crosses her arms over her chest like the offering of her name suddenly took away her protection. What the hell did I ever do to her? I shake off the annoyance and try to remind myself that she’s probably just uncomfortable.

  “Would you like a little tour, Bree?” As if she had already dismissed me, her focus is back on the bag. Clea
rly, I’m just background noise.

  “No thank you.” She lands a right hook into the bag and smirks. “And I would appreciate it if you called me Aubrey.”

  Shocked, I attempt to think of something sarcastic to say to her. Something to make her as uncomfortable as I feel in the moment, but I come up blank. Instead, I lock my jaw and head to Jason’s office. There’s something off about her, and I don’t like it.

  I interrupt Jason on the phone with three sharp knocks to his already open door. With a grunt of disapproval, he finishes his conversation. Once the phone is settled back in its cradle, he beckons me forward.

  He stands, probably preparing himself for yet another complaint about the new girl in the all-boys gym. I haven’t felt this nervous in his presence since I quit fighting. There’s just something I’ve always hated about disappointing him.

  “I don’t mean to disrespect-” I stop when I feel the heat of someone behind me. Shifting to the side, I let Aubrey walk past me and into the center of the office. Gracefully, like she has no idea I was obviously about to complain about her, she approaches Jason’s desk. I watch as she hands him a stack of papers with a smile.

  “I’m in.” The two words make Jason’s entire face light up.

  “5 a.m. practice. Don’t be late.” Knowing her attitude, I wait for her to object. Proving me wrong, she simply nods and leaves the room. When she’s gone, Jason brings his attention back to me.

  “I don’t like her,” I say, ripping it off like a band-aid. He creases his eyebrows, trying to understand the problem.

  “She’s talented Caden. You haven’t even seen her fight.”

  “That’s not what I’m questioning. I’m not okay with her, like, as a person.” There’s a sudden seriousness that grows in his eyes.

  “Maybe there’s more to the story.” The phone starts ringing again, cutting the meeting short. “You’ll figure it out.”

  “How am I going to do that?” Jason hands me the stack of papers he’s holding. I survey them, a dull ache beginning to form between my eyebrows. It’s her contract to train at the gym. To train under me, specifically. I lock eyes with him, ready to protest, but he answers the phone instead.

  “Elite Gym, Jason speaking.” I start to back out of the room but I’m not fast enough. Jason places the phone against his chest, blocking the sound, and says in his best attempt at an authoritative tone, “Caden. 5 a.m. tomorrow.”

  I sling my bag over my shoulder and storm out of the gym. Not before flipping him the bird, though.

  He’s been creative with punishments for quitting. In the last few months, I’ve scrubbed toilets, mopped the sidewalk during a rainstorm, trained acne faced kids who only show up because mommy and daddy said so, and even broke up with a girl for him.

  This one takes the cake, because this girl will be the death of me. I can already tell.

  Chapter Two

  Caden

  For the third time this morning, I try to wipe the sleep from my eyes. The last time I was at the gym this early, there was snow on the ground. Sleeping in was one of the only good things to happen since I quit.

  I shake my head to clear all the negative thoughts that have been piling up over the last twenty hours. Jason isn’t going to let me out of this easily, so I might as well embrace the situation.

  Lights are on inside, meaning Aubrey’s already in there. If I wasn’t so crabby and exhausted, I would be impressed with her initiative, but I could be doing a million things right now. Like sleeping, or slamming my head against the wall, both of which would be more enjoyable.

  She’s in the back corner again, pounding harsh combinations into the leather bag. I cross my arms and watch her carefully. Each movement is loose, but steady. A controlled chaos. Her shoulders bunch as she speeds up, one side of her sweatshirt sliding down her arm. Each punch lands a little more off than the last. Finally, one slides right off and sends her flying forward. She shouts into the emptiness. No words. Just a guttural sound of anger and frustration.

  After a moment of hanging her head, she turns to where I’m now standing. I hadn’t realized it, but I’m closer to her now. At some point, I had begun to gravitate to her. Her reaction to my presence isn’t what I expect. She smiles at me.

  “Good morning.”

  I paste a smile on my lips, trying to embrace the new attitude. “Good morning. Ready to get started?”

  “Are you a trainer?”

  “Technically, no.” I laugh a little but she doesn’t join in. “Rest assured, I know what I’m doing.”

  “Caden Larson. 22 years old. 145 pounds, 5 feet 9 inches. You were ranked number one in the country but quit. Almost a year ago. It was the night before signing a major contract, just a few minutes before fighting the number two fighter, Michael Noll, for the featherweight championship.”

  I raise my eyebrows. “Congratulations. You know how to use Google.”

  “Rob, the guy training me before, mentioned you when he convinced me to come here. I figured I’d do some research.”

  “Aww, you came here for me? I’m so flattered.”

  She crosses her arms over her chest. The movement sends her sweatshirt

  sleeve further down her arm, revealing a purple sports bra and a few stray freckles. I force my eyes to focus. It’s easy once she starts talking again, each word forced through gritted teeth. “I did not come here for you. I came here because Rob asked me to give it a chance. That’s the only reason I don’t walk out right now.”

  I don’t care how the air reeks of dirty ball sack, I take in the deepest breath I can through my nose to remain calm. Not only does she have a terrible attitude, but now I find out she doesn’t even want to be here? This once in a lifetime opportunity, something most people work for since they’re old enough to flip through the channels and discover fighting, and she’s only here because some old dude asked nicely?

  “Walk out if you want to, sweetheart. I’d much rather be sleeping right now.”

  “Don’t call me sweetheart, you stupid, misogynistic, asshole.”

  I let out a low whistle and cross my arms. “Let’s just get this over with. We’re wasting time.”

  She zips up her sweatshirt so the sleeves are back where they need to be. The optimist in me believes this means she’s ready to get started. Silly optimism.

  “I know that you know what you’re doing, but I’d prefer to be trained by an actual trainer. Just, please?”

  “It’s better than some basement. Beggars can’t be choosers.”

  Her demeanor changes from fake friendly to pure anger again. “You don’t know anything about Rob’s, so shut up.”

  “You’re right. We should just workout.” I storm over to my bag and grab the packet I prepared for her. With contempt, I place it in the open air between us and let go.

  While she scrambles to grab it, I begin listing what she will find inside, “This is your new life. Use that great memory of yours to study up. I want you to buy what’s on that list, to follow that meal plan, and to start lifting weights. If we don’t lift weights in our session of the day, you need to get your ass to a gym and lift them at some point later. There’s a list of pain relievers that are allowed by Jason’s standards. It’s a short one. You’ll have weigh-ins every Monday.”

  I revel in the look on her face. Blue eyes stunned wide, white teeth clamped on her bottom lip, and worry etched across her forehead. If she had a better attitude, I’d feel bad for how overwhelmed she must feel.

  “You got all that?” She obviously doesn’t, it’s a lot to process, but I enjoy rubbing the shock in. Staying true to herself, she lifts her chin and gives me her best smile.

  “Of course.”

  “Great. Let’s get started, then.” I step towards one of the training stations. She doesn’t follow.

  “You could have gone all the way you know.” I cross my arms and settle my gaze on her. Hopefully it’s as cold and hard as I want it to be.

  “So I’ve been told.” The glaring
doesn’t get her to back away, or apologize. She’s stubborn, I’ll give her that. “Those people don’t know shit.”

  “They’re experts. I think they know a lot of shit,” she says, fixing her glare on me. “Why did you quit?”

  The question scrapes my bones and I snap. “Why did you?”

  “I haven’t quit. I’m here, aren’t I?”

  “Aubrey Pierce. 20 years old. 129 pounds, 5 feet 6 inches. No national ranking. No official championship title. 4.0 GPA, 31 ACT score, honor roll, lettered in nine sports, and Student Council President. Was planning on attending Brown, on scholarship.” She shifts uncomfortably, her light blue eyes cloudy now. “Well, that used to be you at least. Until December of your senior year.”

  “People change.” Her voice is rubbed raw with sadness.

  “Why did you?” I watch her squirm, hands fiddling with the packet of papers. When she clearly isn’t going to answer, I turn and gesture to the equipment. “I guess we all have our secrets, don’t we, Aubrey?”

  Chapter Three

  Aubrey

  “Bree, dinner’s ready.” Myla’s voice vibrates through our small apartment. I stare up at the ceiling of my room, willing my body to move. Ice packs weigh me down and my head is pulsing. Every inch of my body feels as if I fought ten rounds instead of an easy, two-hour workout.

  Slowly, I sit up and push the ice packs away as I swing my legs to the side of the bed. I groan, partially in pain and partially in anger. There’s no way the work out with Caden was this hard.

  “Bree! Dinner!” The screaming increases my headache from a level six to an eight. I must remind myself half a dozen times how much I like her as I limp down the hallway and into the kitchen.

  Myla offers me a sympathetic smile when I appear. As usual, I ignore the action. Pity parties aren’t my thing. I start to pile large amounts of food onto my plate in silence. I think she gets the hint when she apologizes. “Sorry, too loud?”