"The Underground Fighter and His Kitten"
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Sasha "Kayo" Sokolov is a Russian fighter who was sent to America at a young age. One day, he met a young girl by the name of Everleigh Wilson, who taught him how to speak English, and helped him with his s...
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I had been watching Sasha as prespration dripped from him most. I never took the time to really think about him and how much he had to go through in his life. I met him when he was a young boy, it was the time when we were supposed to be at the peak of life—where we believed in anything and had no worries, no doubts, and no insecurities. However, he was already broken before even given the chance to believe in the goodness of the world. I could see it in his eye that he was broken beyond repair, even at that age. He got a head start on pain before the rest of us. Even now, it was only when I caught the desperation in his eye as he punched the punching bag like a bird born with broken wings. He was forced to fly in the race of life, competing against those with wings that never had a single tear.
I never thought it was fair how Sasha never got to choose the path he wanted to take. He was branded as a monster before he even learned how to talk. He was seen as a killer before he even became a teenager. I got to see the boy he truly was—way before he hid it from the rest of the world with his fake american accent, deep scowl, and his fists raised up in a defensive position 24/7. I caught a glimpse of him before all the walls went up. What I always liked to remember was the boy who protected me. He was the one I trusted most of all to never hurt me.
Maybe it was stupid. I had to realize that people do change, but a part of me refused to believe that my best friend wasn't in there. I wanted it all to be some facade just so I could hug that little boy again. But with each punch that generated a ripple throughout the punching bag, it represented how time and trauma pushed us farther and farther apart.
We were too different now, but he still went out of his way to give me rides to and from work everyday. I was kicked out of my own apartment, and he offered me his bed. I know that the good in him is in there somewhere, I could feel it. I had a mission. I was going to bring back that little boy again, and I would give him what I couldn't at first... a chance to believe in something.
And when I put my mind to something, nothing in the world could possibly stop me.
Except that.
The girl I had seen draped around Sasha like a damn cardigan had strolled into the gym. She had a workout outfit on—seamless light pink leggings with a matching sports bra. Her dark hair was neatly tucked away into a low bun and in her hand was an insulated water bottle.
There was a smile on her face until the moment her eyes met my own. I watched her smile twitch just a little as if she debated in her mind to scowl or keep up with her fake persona. Sasha seemed to notice my change in attention because he followed my gaze to meet Sophia. I only learned her name after receiving a very strange viewer on my Instagram story, turns out she didn't end up being the only person lurking that night.
"Sophia?" Charlie came from absolutely nowhere, addressing her. I didn't know why, but a pang of jealousy overwhelmed my emotions for only a split second. It's not like I was anything more than a friend to Sasha—if you'd even call it that—and it's not like I wanted anything more. It's just the thought of him taking me through the same motions as another girl that bothered me. Charlie knew her at least well enough to call her by her name. That only meant Sasha had brought her there before.
