He shook like a flag in the wind as he opened the safe, gave me the money.He’ll probably never again sleep.Welcome to the club, old man . . .But I’m not thinking about that anymore. His name is scratched, the fights were good tonight. Riptide owned the ring—and that’s fine by me. Riptide is money, and the Underground is all about money.But I’m not thinking about that either.I’m thinking about her. Wondering if she’s sleeping. Or even half as tortured as I am. It’s six a.m. at the hospital, and I’ve been sitting here, hating what I already know.Hating that I already know what she’s going to tell me later on today when I go to see her.That I don’t deserve her, am a liar, a con, and not the man she wants and it’s fucking. Eating. Me. Alive.Can’t sit still. Can’t stop going over shit in my head.I’ve sat all night at the hospital watching my father struggle to breathe.I feel choked myself, the air clogged in my lungs. I knew what my life was, what I wanted. It was all clear.Nothing is clear anymore except that I can’t imagine continuing a day without her.
