⸻ The final round had just wrapped when Sasha slipped away from the ring, moving with practiced stealth to retrieve the championship belt. It was part of the gig, flash, glam, timing. But as she passed into the staff area, a dull thud echoed from the direction of the lockers. Her pace slowed. Instinct — or maybe curiosity; kicked in, and she veered toward the sound. What she found made her blood run cold. One of the fighters was collapsed on the floor, sprawled beside the lockers, unmoving. Sasha dropped the belt without a second thought, the leather hitting tile with a lifeless slap. She rushed to his side, crouching down as her fingers moved automatically, checking his pulse, his breathing, the color of his lips.
He had a pulse. Weak. Thready. His chest barely moved.❛ For fuck’s sake— ❜ She hissed under her breath, already shifting into medical mode. The ring girl vanished. The doctor took over. She tilted his head back gently, opened his airway, and started compressions, positioning her hands perfectly on his sternum. Her eyes locked in, her focus razor-sharp. ❛ Раз... два... три... ❜ She counted aloud in Russian, pressing down with controlled force, adrenaline making her movements faster, sharper. After a few compressions, she pinched his nose, gave two solid breaths. Nothing. His heartbeat was still dangerously slow. Shallow. She resumed CPR without hesitation, sweat beginning to bead at her temples under the bright locker room lights.
❛ Come on… Don’t you dare. ❜ Her voice was tight, low, and fierce. He was shirtless — made it easier, at least. She kept count in Russian, slipping between compressions and rescue breaths with the practiced rhythm of someone who had done this before. Someone who knew what was at stake. Footsteps echoed behind her, heavy and rushed. Sasha didn’t stop, just snapped her head toward the sound, eyes sharp. ❛ Call an ambulance. Now. ❜ She barked. ❛ I can’t leave him. ❜ Her palms pressed into his chest again. Steady. Relentless. It had been months since she’d been in a hospital. Since her life had been scrubs and charts and the endless buzz of machines. But the instincts hadn’t dulled. Motherhood may have changed her. The ring girl may be who people saw. But this — this was who she really was.
Location: The Grudge Box.
@c0exiist