ALIEN INVASION by Peter Hallett Read Free Book Online Page B

empty, apart from the pile of pads and the beat-up boxing ring standing at the rear, the canvas ripped, some of the torn sections fixed the best I could with duct tape.
    Times were tough. Money was tight. I didn’t have enough cash to do all the work that was needed. The white paint on the walls was dirty and flaking. The space was damp, cold and in desperate need of air-conditioning in the summer and heating in the winter.
    I would have given anything for it to be summer again, you could feel the wind blowing through the building, and you could even hear it howl when it got up enough speed. Sometimes I wore more layers when I trained than when I was outside.
    I got the pad on my right hand in position for Sara’s right cross. She snapped it out. “Good, but keep those hands up. You’re dropping them before you’ve fully retracted your fist from the punch. How many times do I have to tell you about that?”
    I’d like to say it was the lack of students that had caused my money problems, and sure, it didn’t help, but it was far worse than that. I was in debt. I owed the wrong people the wrong amount of money. The amount was wrong, because of the amount it was. It was an amount I couldn’t make teaching. The people were the wrong people, because they were the gangster type, the break-your-thumbs-if you-can’t-pay type.
    “Now, the hook.” I twisted the left pad and she hit it with the hook. “Good. They’re getting better.” I placed the pads over my stomach. “Push kick!” She got me with a good one. I stumbled back. “That’s it. They’ve really improved. Now we have the combination down, I want you to up the pace, rattle them in and rattle the pads. Use your emotional anchor point to link each strike with the feeling needed to cause more damage, do it a split second before they hit. They might not be as accurate, but I’ll feel them more.”
    Sara nodded, I got set again and she delivered the combination. “That okay?” she asked as we reset.
    “Yeah, I could really feel those through the pads, just be careful of your balance. You looked kinda wobbly. Don’t be tempted to throw your arms out though. You do that and you’re gonna get a punch in the face from an opponent. You need that guard high and tight.”
    She assaulted the pads again. The echo on each hit seemed to punch at my brain. That’s what happens when you decide to teach with a hangover. Plus there was the small matter of the fight I’d had.
    I’d gone for a few drinks at Jimmy-Joe’s Bar the night before. I’d had three private students that day, so I had the cash to spend. Maybe I could have put it to better use, but when the world feels like it’s falling down on you, being drunk can soften the impact when it hits.
    I was pretty drunk when it happened. A guy knocked my drink out of my hand. He’d said sorry, and it did seem like an accident. I didn’t let it go though. He offered to buy me another drink. I told him I didn’t want another one. I wanted the one that was now soaking into my jeans. I called him a dick.
    That’s when things got heated. He said some shit about it being an accident and that he’d said he was sorry, that he’d tried to be nice, that I was the one who was being a dick. I didn’t take too kindly to that.
    He’d turned to head back toward his friends, who were sitting at a table a little ways from us. I tapped him on the shoulder and when he turned I powered my fist into his jaw. He was unconscious before he even hit the floor. His friends stood at that moment.
    I didn’t even give them a chance to come over to me. I walked to them, flipped the table they were sitting at. I was able to comatose one of them with an elbow to the face before I was dragged from the premises.
    When I got home, I cried. I held my head in my hands, and cried. It was my new all-time low. I’d become what I’d been teaching people for years to defend against, what I’d been warning them to not become.
    I was a failure.