2
ELEONOR
"Entering through that door for the third time, I could not shake off the weight of reluctance. The past visits had been solitary quests for my brother, but today, I walked side by side with Michael.
Two years my senior, Michael had been my steadfast protector, the first love of my life. He had always been there for me, and the thought of him facing harm within the confines of the ring was unbearable. We had only recently discovered his clandestine fights, though he had been boxing as a sport for years. For my parents, who dreamt of him finishing university, this revelation was a nightmare. They feared for his safety, as did I. The brutality of boxing, the very real risk of losing a life in the ring, was too much to bear. Yet there I was, front row, heart lodged firmly in my throat, ready to witness him fight. I had to see for myself if I could support my brother's passion, despite the pain it brought our parents, or if I would stand against the violence he so embraced.
Michael insisted I sit in the front row, where he could ensure no one would harass me. ""Don't talk to strangers,"" he reminded me before disappearing to ready himself. I watched the crowd swell, a motley crew of characters, many with appearances that seemed exaggeratedly rough to my eyes. My brother, it turned out, was well-known here, his reputation extending far beyond what he had led us to believe.
My gaze wandered the venue, that 'rat trap' as I had dubbed it, and inevitably, our eyes locked—his and mine. The memory of his grip on my arm, his voice tauntingly calling me ""baby,"" and his insufferable arrogance from the day before flooded back. There he was, leaning against the doorway, a figure of undeniable presence. Despite my annoyance, I had to admit he had occupied my thoughts the previous night more than I cared to admit.
Zeus, they called him, a name befitting a deity, and he certainly had the stature of one. Yet, his hubris stripped him of any charm he might have otherwise had.
It was I who broke the eye contact, deliberately shifting my gaze, turning my head away as if to physically reject the irritation he stirred within me.
""Can I buy you a drink, beautiful?"" A man in his thirties, emboldened by my solitude, approached.
""No, thank you,"" I replied, my tone polite yet my expression likely betrayed my discomfort.
""Come on, gorgeous, are you alone or with someone?"" he persisted, daring to touch my hair.
With a swift motion, I shrugged off his hand. ""You have half a second to back off,"" a familiar deep voice commanded, sending a shiver down the man's spine.
I turned, and there stood Zeus, the man who had just chased away the unwanted advance with a mere utterance.
""Sorry, sir,"" the man muttered, vanishing as quickly as he had appeared.
Zeus had intervened on my behalf. But why? His disdain for 'babes' like me seemed well-established.
""Thank you,"" I said, meeting his gaze directly.
He surveyed the surroundings before leaning down to my level. His proximity sent a jolt through me, his breath on my neck causing an involuntary reaction.
""I told you this place isn't for girls,"" he murmured, his voice a low rumble.
I couldn't help but roll my eyes at his patronizing tone. He disappeared from my side, leaving me with a mix of gratitude and vexation. How insufferably arrogant he was!" "I had meant to offer a simple thanks, but Zeus had to ruin it with his patronizing comments, just as he had the day before. I was beginning to reconsider my opinion of him, but his insinuation that I was defenseless grated on me. I hadn't asked for his intervention; I was perfectly capable of handling the situation with the overzealous man myself.
The atmosphere in the space shifted as the fighters made their entrance. My brother, Michael, had always been a head-turner, and his athletic form only amplified the adoration from his female fans. His opponent, though slightly taller, didn't strike me as particularly threatening.
The bell rang, and the fight commenced. I caught Michael's confident gaze before the flurry of punches began. I trusted in his ability, yet my heart raced with anxiety.
I won't narrate the details of the fight—you can imagine the scene: the crowd's roars, the thud of gloves against flesh. At times, I shielded my eyes, not wanting Zeus to see and have another excuse to call me a 'girl.' The violence of the sport was overwhelming; witnessing my brother both deliver and receive blows was a torment I hadn't prepared for.
Lost in my thoughts, I pondered what our parents would think—my mother's heartache at seeing Michael in the ring, my father's disappointment in me for supporting something so dangerous. Was I failing them both as a daughter and a sister?
But when the crowd erupted with my brother's name, my worries dissolved into the collective euphoria. Michael emerged victorious, unscathed, and was promptly handed his winnings.
As he was ushered away from the clamoring fans and into the privacy of his dressing room, I felt a presence behind me.
""Let's go,"" Zeus's voice commanded, close once more.
""What?"" I turned, bewildered by his abrupt suggestion.
With an exasperated roll of his eyes and a weary sigh, he reached for my arm.
""Animal! Let go of me!"" I hissed, my teeth clenched, trying to keep our confrontation discreet amidst the post-fight chaos. But Zeus seemed indifferent to the potential spectacle, the crowd too absorbed in their own revelries to notice our exchange.