MMA System: I Will Be Pound For Pound Goat

"You mean—" The first thing Svetlana said was soft and careful.Nôv(el)B\\jnn

He cut her off, though, and his words came out like a dam breaking.

"I try. I've tried to ignore it, and most days, I can. It doesn't happen much."

His shoulders were tense and his eyes were still on the ocean.

"But he's always there," Damon went on, his voice low and shaking with emotion. "I hide it. When I fight, he's in my head. When I train, he's there. And when I sleep… he's there too."

Svetlana's face softened, but she didn't say anything. She let him talk.

"I don't have nightmares," he added, shaking his head. "But I don't dream either. It's just… nothing. But somehow, I still feel like he's watching. Like… this, everything, this family I found, this peace my mom and I finally have… fighting, all of it. Like he's gonna show up, and all this would've been just a fleeting dream. A futile escape from him."

At the end, his voice cracked a little, and he clenched his chin to hold back the emotion that was about to come out.

Svetlana reached out and put a soft hand on his shoulder. She didn't say anything, she knew Damon wasn't done yet.

With eyes filled with an vulnerability he rarely let himself show, he finally turned his head to look at her. "What if… what if it's not over? What if I can't outrun him?"

"I love fighting, but somehow… I can't enjoy it," Damon admitted, his voice heavy with a mix of frustration and sadness.

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He took a long, deep sigh, his chest rising and falling slowly. "But I also can't stop… can't stop fighting."

The words hung in the air, a little pushed away by the soft sound of the waves.

For a long time, there was silence between them. They were both thinking.

Then Damon looked at Svetlana, and she noticed that his eyes had a sense of doubt that she wasn't used to seeing in him."I'm afraid," he said, his voice softer now.

He chuckled, trying to break the tension, a smile tugging at his lips, but it didn't reach his eyes.

Svetlana didn't laugh with him.

She could see right through it.

Damon was afraid.

He truly meant it, even if he tried to mask it with humor.

And for once, she didn't know what to say.

She thought about reassuring him and giving him some soothing words to calm down, but nothing felt right.

What could she say to fix this? What could she do to take away the weight he carried?

So instead, she chose silence.

Her hand gently rested on his, and her presence spoke louder than any words she could have used.

And in that moment, her quiet understanding felt better than anything she could have said.

"How do you deal with it?" He asked in a voice that was barely above a whisper.

She looked at him with a soft but steady gaze.

It was clear to her that he was asking about how she carried her own scars and pain.

"I don't think I 'deal' with it," After a while, she said. She spoke in a calm, thoughtful way. "It's not something you just get rid of. The fear, the pain, the anger… they're always there. They're part of me."

She paused, her fingers tracing small patterns in the sand. "But what I've learned is, I don't have to face it alone. I know my mom and dad are gone. That pain doesn't disappear. But I've found my new family, and with them, I don't have to carry everything by myself anymore."

She turned to him and lowered her voice. A warm smile spread across her face. "I know I'm not alone. And, well… I happen to have the eleventh-ranked UFA fighter watching my back, so I think I'm in pretty good hands."

She spoke in a lighthearted way, but she meant what she said.

Damon's lips moved into a small smile, and her warmth made him feel less unsure.

Svetlana reached out and gently squeezed his hand. "You don't have to carry it all alone either, Damon. You've got me. You've got all of us."

Damon looked at Svetlana, her concern evident.

"Thank you," he said softly, his voice carrying genuine gratitude.

She hesitated for a moment before asking, "What about your mom?"

Damon's brow furrowed slightly, and he turned his gaze to the waves.

"Is she fine as well? She's always smiling," Svetlana continued, her tone gentle.

He looked down at the sand. "Yeah, she is," he said, but there was a slight hesitation in his voice.

He didn't say anything else, but Svetlana's question kept going through his mind.

His mom seemed happy ever since they moved to L.A.

With her big smile, she always cheered him up and made sure he was okay.

But something about it felt… too perfect.

She didn't have a job or many friends here that he knew of.

Her life seemed to revolve around keeping their home in order and supporting him.

Damon wondered, for the first time in a long time, if she was really fine.

He remembered a quick thought he had once, maybe his mom would get married again one day and find someone who would make her truly happy again.

It never seemed to happen, though. She wasn't interested in anyone, and Damon couldn't remember her even bringing it up.

As the thought settled, Damon made a mental note to talk to her soon.

He needed to know how she was really feeling, not just the surface-level smiles, but what was going on beneath them.

He didn't want to make the same mistake he often made with himself, ignoring the deeper emotions.

His mom deserved better than that.

Damon sighed deeply, the weight of his thoughts still lingering.

But he didn't want to let the moment sink any lower than it already had.

He glanced at Svetlana, a faint smirk forming on his lips. "You know," he said, his tone lighter now, "I don't think I need a therapist."

Svetlana raised an eyebrow, catching the playful shift in his demeanor. She smiled, deciding to play along. "Oh really? And why's that?"

He leaned back slightly, crossing his arms with a mock-serious expression. "Because I have you, Doctor Pretova."

Svetlana laughed softly, shaking her head. "Doctor Pretova, huh? Should I start charging for my sessions?"

"Not unless you want me to go broke," Damon teased, his smirk growing.

She gave him a playful shove, her laughter cutting through the heavy emotions that had surrounded them moments ago.

"Well, Doctor Pretova," he continued, "what's your diagnosis? Am I completely hopeless?"

Svetlana leaned closer, pretending to think deeply. "Hmm, my professional opinion? You're a work in progress, but there's potential," she said, her tone exaggeratedly serious.

Damon chuckled, the tension in his shoulders easing as they shared the lighthearted moment.

For now, it was enough to let the heaviness of their thoughts fade, even if just for a little while.