Afraid to Fly

"How did that look?"

Abby wipes the small bead of sweat from her forehead before beginning to collect the mats now littering the floor around her.

"Believable," came a quick reply from Ken, setting the camera to sleep and setting it on a seat behind him, "Though I never want to hear you talk about sloppy seconds again."

"Why not? I heard it from you," Abby giggled to herself, placing a mat up against the wall, "Though it wasn't until junior year when I learned you weren't talking about food."

Ken took a seat on the pull down machine and gave a single, lazy pull, stopping when it refused to move."Why do you record in this crappy gym? They don't even have a Pilates corner."

"I know one of the managers. So long as I put everything away he has no problem with my using it after hours." Abby slung the bungee cords over her shoulder, the clean up now finished. "Plus I kinda like it here. It's like having my own little clubhouse."

"Fair enough. So, you think Cannon'll be heading for the hills?" Ken gave another attempt on the pull down, just to give his hands something to do.

"Couldn't care less about Cannon's response, Ken. He'll be another notch on the belt soon enough. Here, you're doing it wrong."

Abby shoved Ken from the seat. She tossed the bungee cords behind her and sat down in front of the machine, as if she was going to use it. "Your hands go here." Abby proceeded to show Ken how to use the machine by doing a series of reps.

"Now you're showing off," Ken crossed his arms in mock annoyance, "No one likes a show-off."

Abby finished her little workout and stepped off the seat, wiping the nonexistent sweat with the back of her hand. "Just showing you the ropes, Ken. It may come in handy when I need you to punch someone like Donovan Torment for being too loud during a match."

"Who's Donovan Torment?" Ken walked over to where he left the camera and scooped it under his arm.

"He's the loud guy that manages the next notch on my belt." Abby paused, smirking to herself; now that the scent of victory was so close she had to grab it. "Come on," she said, slinging the bungee cords back over her shoulder, "Let's grab a hamburger. You're buying."

Before Ken could protest, Abby hit the lights, leaving Ken standing in a dark gym holding a camera. With his free hand, he lightly tapped at the wallet in his pants. The wallet that currently contained a few bills from his sister's sock drawer.

"On your dime," he muttered, making his way towards the exit.

~~~~~~~



The bullying began as soon as he entered the building. News traveled fast in the community, and there wasn't a student who didn't know that Ken Park was saved by his sister. His kid sister. Everywhere he walked he heard the whispers, felt the eyes on his back, picked up on the snickering the other kids tried so hard to hide.

"No sister today, Park?" the familiar voice of Joe greeted him. Joe, sans goons, was standing in front of Ken's locker, a toothy grin doing little to hide the band-aid on his cheek. That wasn't from Abby and Ken began to wonder what caused it. "You know, my pa was pretty upset with me when your mom called last night." That explained the band-aid.

"I would've thought your pa was always upset with you."

Joe slammed his foot into Ken's locker; Ken jumped up at the noise. "That's funny, Park. For someone so pathetic he can't stick up for himself, that is."

"I just want to get my books, Joe," Ken didn't want to deal with this, not now, not ever.

"Go ahead." Joe stepped to the side. Ken gave him a curious glance, shrugged, and proceeded to open the locker. As soon as he reached inside to grab at a book. the locker door came slamming shut. Ken yelled out and yanked his hand back as soon as the locker bounced back. "Why don't you go get your sister, wuss," Joe taunted, quickly fleeing before any teachers caught him.

Ken wanted not to cry, he desperately tried to bite back the tears, but the pain was great and with the pain came the tears. No one helped him up, but plenty of them stopped to stare; as if he was some second-rate circus attraction.

"The first day is the hardest," he thought to himself. He even believed it.

He was wrong.


~~~~~~~


For once Abby found herself alone in her apartment and the silence was certainly a welcome change. Ever since Ken had moved in rarely a day went by when he wasn't hovering around, making his presence known no matter where in the building he was. She had forgotten what this felt like, the quiet, the downtime. She liked it. Abby was sitting in front of her small laptop sitting on top of her work desk.

The screen was showing a webpage displaying a listing of flights into Chattanooga, Tennessee. Ever since the abrupt ending to the phone call with her parents, Abby's primary thoughts have been with them. Both parties were nothing if not stubborn, something she no doubt inherited from them. Her mind was made up. She had to go back, had to smooth things over. The only lingering question was if she needed to purchase two tickets.

As if on cue, her cellphone started to ring.

"Hello?" she answered, spinning around in her chair to face the front of the room.

"Abby, it's Ken."

Of course it was. Very few people were even aware she had a cellphone now.

"Perfect timing, Ken, I wanted to know if you wanted to go on a trip with me."

"What? Yeah, sure, whatever. Anyway, are you near a radio or a computer?"

Abby swung back around in her chair to look at the screen. She moved the mouse over the drop box for 'passengers' and changed it to two.

"Yeah, I'm actually on my computer now." She moved the mouse over to the large 'BOOK FLIGHT' button and clicked. The confirmation screen popped up. Tickets for two to Chattanooga. Business class.

"See if some show called 'Inside the Ropes' has an internet stream," Ken was sounding excited; that worryed Abby.

"Why?" she asked as she typed the name of the program into the taskbar.

"Your British friend is talking about you."

Abby's curiosity was piqued. She intensified her search, clicking through various links until she found the one she was looking for.

"Once again I’d like to thank you again Mr. Cannon for joining us today. The world will be looking forward to your match this week, and Exodus Pro as a whole. Good luck.”

She cursed under her breath. Johnny Cannon was talking about their match, talking about her, and she missed it. "I missed it, Ken. What'd Cannon say?" She was furiously clicking around the website, looking for any way to catch a replay.

"He talked a lot about eating. But Abby, what he said isn't important. What's important is that he's doing what you should be. Getting on radio shows and sounding like an arrogant idiot! Think of the exposure."

"Not now, Ken. Are you free tomorrow?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Get the camera. Meet me at the gym." Abby hung up the phone, smiling. Her eyes were re-reading a particular section on the website. 'podcasts of our daily shows'. If Mr. Cannon was going to talk about her, who was she to ignore his comments?

She had to think of the exposure, after all.
~~~~~~~

"And here we are again."

Abby stood underneath a single cone of light, both her hands clutching a microphone. She was dressed in a plain black shirt that hung loose on the shoulders and blended in with the darkness around her. A single white earbud dangled out of her right ear.

"It's come to my attention that my opponent this Sunday, Johnny Cannon, had some things to say regarding our little showdown. I don't know if it was the program or Cannon's request, but they weren't even taking listener calls. Which is unfortunate because had I known Cannon was on I would've made an effort to humiliate him in his one moment of glory."

Abby pulls the earbud completely out of her ear and drops it to her side. It catches the light for a brief moment before fading into the black.

"Luckily I was able to catch a replay. And now I understand why they weren't allowing callers. Tell me, Cannon, how in love with yourself are you? The poor host could barely get a word in while you yammered on and on as if people actually cared about what you have to say." She pauses, briefly looking upwards towards the light. "Though there was one bit that caught my interest. You're a family man, Cannon. I never would've guessed. That bit about your father? Touching, truly."

"But I have to wonder, how is your father going to take it when his son yet again fails to achieve glory? Let's look at the facts here, Johnny. You didn't win any mixed martial arts championships, you didn't win any acting awards, and come this Sunday you can add another loss to that impeccable record. Now, I'm not a bad person. Really, I'm not. I care about family. There's nothing more important to family, and I hate to come between that but sometimes good people have to do things they don't want to do. But tell you what, when I'm standing there with my shiny championship and you're telling your father that he still doesn't have a champion in the family, I'll let you touch the belt. Just for a few seconds, mind you. Because then you'll be able to tell your father what it felt like to have victory in the palm of your hand."

Abby turns her head to the side and looks down.

"Look, Cannon, we're not so different. Other than you being an arrogant blowhard with very little ground to stand on with your claims, of course. We both have something to prove, though yours is to a person and mine...isn't. I respect that. And as I said, I respect you. And I agree with you. I agree with your spiel about no one winning through promos. Talking gets us nowhere. Your interview is proof of that. I listened to that whole interview and it went nowhere. Talk talk talk.Keep talking, Cannon. I'd say it's what you are good at, but your acting career is evidence to the contrary. I understand why it is you talk so much, Cannon, I really do. It is incredibly obvious."

She lifts her head up and looks towards the camera.

"See, I've faced guys like you, Cannon, guys who talk a big game and aren't lacking for confidence. You're all the same. You think boasting will get us good and frightened. I'm not scared, Cannon. I'm not scared to fight you. But here's the kicker, here's what makes me a better fighter than you: I'm not scared of losing."

Abby pauses and stares into the camera, unblinking, eyebrows narrowed.

"You want nothing more than to win. Good for you. We all need our motivations. But me? It's not about winning or losing. It's about giving it your all and leaving nothing behind. It's about the thrill of the fight. You were a moderately successful mixed martial artist, I'm sure you know what I mean. There was a time when I was like you, Cannon, where all I wanted to do was prove that I was the best. Hide behind your father's wishes all you want, it all boils down to you wanting to be the best at the end of the day. That way of thinking is so...archaic."

As she pauses again her head lifts upwards towards the overhead light.

"My past victories and my upcoming victory against you aren't out of some desire to win. That's just a natural byproduct of giving my all every single time. But you? You want to win. You and every other person in Exodus Pro. Your drive to win is, ironically, what will be why you continue to lose. Talk yourself up all you want, I see through you. I see the fear you have. The fear that you will disappoint dear old dad. The fear that you will once again find yourself on the wrong end of a three count. You're afraid, Johnny Cannon. And you know what?"

Abby steps out of the light into the black background.

"You shouldn't be."

The camera holds on the cone of light for a moment. As the camera holds on the light, it suddenly shuts of and all that remains is the silence of darkness.