MMA System: I Will Be Pound For Pound Goat

Damon smiled wryly and looked up, he had never really told anyone his past, not in full detail.

Thinking about it now, he could almost feel the phantom itch of the scar on his back.

It was a constant reminder of what he'd been through, what he'd survived.

He glanced over at Svetlana, who was patiently waiting, her eyes showing no judgment, just curiosity and trust.

He wanted to know more about her, too. He didn't want this to be one-sided.

"In one condition," he said, locking eyes with her.

She looked up, intrigued, waiting for him to explain.

"I also want to know your past," Damon said, his voice softer but clear.

Svetlana looked down for a moment, thinking about it.

She looked like she was thinking about something, as if she wasn't sure if she was ready to share. She took a deep breath and then looked back at him.

"Sure," She said it with quiet confidence, and Damon didn't expect the determination in her eyes.

There was no hesitation now, just two people ready to let each other in.

Damon looked up, not knowing where to begin, so he started with the good memories, the happy moments that seemed so far away now.

That felt like a... dream

"My dad was the best father a kid could ask for," Damon said, a small smile appearing on his face. "Back in Ireland, he was... he was my hero, you know? Taught me everything, used to say that family comes first, and he'd do anything for us."

Svetlana nodded, her eyes softening as she listened.

"But... things changed," Damon continued, his voice dropping as the memories shifted to something darker. "My dad, Tairo... he wasn't always the same. He started gambling, drinking. This man, who once had morals, and a smile that could light up a room, turned into...

something else. A monster."

Damon took a moment to think about what he had just said. "At first, it was just shouting. He'd scream at my mom, Aoife. He'd accuse her of cheating whenever she went out, even if it was just to see a friend. It got so bad that she stopped having friends. Just to keep the peace."

Svetlana listened closely, her expression serious, sensing how hard it was for him to share this.

"Then... it got worse," Damon said, his voice barely above a whisper. "He started losing more money, and when that happened, he'd come home angry. And he'd take it out on her. I was just a kid, watching this happen, powerless to stop it. School...

everything started to fall apart for me."

Damon's jaw clenched. "And then, it wasn't just her anymore. He started turning on me. I remember... the very fights he used to watch on the UFA, the ones he'd bet on... he'd try to recreate them.

But on me."

Damon fell silent, closing his eyes for a moment, not because of tears but because of the anger that welled up inside him. He sighed, taking a breath to calm himself.

"My mom... she tried everything she could to get us away from him. Tried reaching out for help, but nothing ever came. So, one night, she packed us up, and somehow, we ended up in the streets of Stockton, in the US. It wasn't easy, but it was better than staying there. You know the rest."

Damon stopped, feeling a strange sense of relief.

It was as though he had been carrying that weight for so long, and now that he'd let it out, it was a little easier to breathe.

Svetlana sat still for a moment, taking in everything he said. Her face showed that she understood and empathized.

Damon glanced down and noticed her hand resting on his, though he hadn't felt it when she placed it there. Slowly, he turned his hand around and clasped hers.

A strange vulnerability washed over him. He felt exposed, like everything inside him had been laid bare for her to see, to judge.

Maybe judgment wouldn't be so bad, he thought. If she thought he was weak, he couldn't blame her.

But then her grip tightened around his hand, and she leaned her head against his shoulder, the gesture tender and reassuring.

"I'm sorry you went through all that," she whispered softly.

Damon's voice came out deep and steady, "There's no need to be sorry, it's not your fault."

She shifted slightly, her voice just as soft but filled with conviction. "I know, but nobody should go through that. I'm just saying... thank you for sharing with me, for letting me in. You're a strong man."

Silence followed, but it was comfortable, peaceful.

Damon looked up at the sky. A strong man, he thought. Somehow, hearing that from her calmed something inside him.

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He felt relief, not just from finally letting his past out but because Svetlana, someone who meant so much to him, had heard it all and didn't judge him for it.

She hadn't ridiculed him or looked at him differently. She simply accepted him, his past, his pain.

He couldn't help but wish that every man who went through what he had would find someone like her.

Someone who could make them feel worthy and supported, despite their struggles.

Damon turned his gaze back to her, watching as she stared off into the distance, her head still resting gently on his shoulder.

He felt an overwhelming sense of peace wash over him, knowing that this moment, this connection, was real.

He didn't say anything more, choosing instead to embrace the silence between them.

Their breathing seemed to synchronize, a quiet rhythm that bound them together in that moment.

Finally, she broke the stillness. "I guess it's my turn to tell my part."

Damon shifted slightly, his hand tightening gently around hers. "You don't have to, if you're not r–"

But she cut him off, her voice soft but determined. "I should. You opened up to me, I should do the same. Not only for you... but for me as well."

Damon nodded silently, his thumb brushing over her hand in a soothing gesture, offering her comfort. He could feel her nerves, the tension in her body.

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