After Nothing by Rachel Mackie Page A

after that, but as soon as the first fight started they left us alone.
     
    Kane’s was the fourth fight. His opponent was Danesh Burrows, and Kane knew him. He’d told me the day before that he’d beat him. He did, in the first round. Didn’t even take three minutes for what was going to happen to happen.
    Kane was just faster. He blocked punches and caught the other guy’s kicks before making contact every time with his own strikes and kicks. He had the psychological edge too. Even from where I was sitting I could feel the aggression and determination exuding from Kane.
    Two minutes into the fight the sound of Kane’s gloves hitting Danesh’s skin came at speed. One of the hits was a liver shot. Danesh went down.
    Cheers erupted around us.
    ‘Fuck me, Anderson’s giving that boy a beat-down,’ said Toothless behind me.
    Danesh slowly got up off his knees and came at Kane with his gloves up. Danesh got one punch in and then Kane hooked him with his right. Danesh’s head snapped back. He staggered, but stayed standing. Kane finished him with a head kick.
    Danesh was knocked out while he was still upright, and when he went down he went down hard.
    Everyone got up on their feet and roared, the noise a mix of jubilation and disappointment, a sort of bloodthirsty baying. Melissa was on her feet beside me, but neither of us were clapping and cheering. She kept saying ‘oh no.’ I was watching Kane. He wasn’t looking out at the crowd; he was looking down at the other fighter, and the referee kneeling beside him.
    ‘That nigga is out,’ said one of Toothless’s friends with glee.
    ‘Move,’ was Toothless’s response, his urging directed at the inert form in the ring. ‘Come on brother, get up.’
    Danesh didn’t move, and there was a rush of movement into the ring.
    Wayne also entered, trying to get Kane back to his corner, but Kane, his chest heaving, and sweat pouring off him, stayed where he was, his gloves hanging limp at his sides.
    The ringside doctor started working on the motionless fighter and everything got really quiet: no music playing or announcers calling the next fight, no cheers or yells, just people talking in lowered voices, if at all.
    Wayne finally managed to get Kane back in his corner as two paramedics entered the ring with a stretcher. Danesh was carefully moved onto it, a brace around his neck and an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose.
    Kane was announced the winner.

10
     
    Kane quit fighting.
    Wayne wouldn’t believe him. Kane didn’t tell him straightaway. He went and saw Danesh in hospital first. A whole lot of Danesh’s crew were at the hospital. Some of them Kane knew – he had dealt them car parts, even organized a few vehicle deliveries. None of them gave Kane a hard time. Just nodded at him, even shook his hand.
    It had been a week since the fight. A week since Danesh had had surgery for the bleed on his brain.
    Kane never told me what he and Danesh talked about. But later that afternoon back at his place, while we were sitting on the edge of his bed, and I was trying to think how I could make him feel better, he told me what some of Danesh’s friends had told him.
    ‘Doctors say he got brain damage. I mean, he don’t look how you think someone who is brain damaged would look, but he can’t remember things from like two days ago, and he got tired real quick.’
    ‘He probably just needs longer to heal.’
    ‘Natalie, he’s brain damaged. I did that to him. I fucked his life.’
    ‘You did not. If he’s talking and walking and not paralyzed then he’ll be okay. It was a fight. It could have happened to you. It’s how it is, Kane. He chose to fight.’
    ‘And I fucking chose to kick him in the head. He was probably gonna go down anyway. Why’d I do that?’
    ‘Because that’s how you win fights.’
    ‘Makes me a fucking animal.’
    ‘Kane, he’ll be okay.’
    Kane shook his head, then buried his face in his hands. I put my arms around him, and pressed a