MMA System: I Will Be Pound For Pound Goat

"Alright... we're here," Victor said as he eased the car to a stop in front of the large apartment building.

The headlights lit up the entrance and left long shadows on the ground.

Damon looked out at the familiar structure, feeling a sense of comfort and familiarity.

After taking off his seatbelt, he looked at Victor with a glad smile on his face. "Thanks for the ride, Vic," he said.

Victor nodded, his expression warm. "Anytime, kid. Take care and rest up. Big days ahead."

Damon stepped out of the car, his gym bag slung over his shoulder, and waved as Victor pulled away.

Moving toward the building, he felt the cool air in the evening on his skin. He was ready to rest and get ready for what was to come.

He turned around and went into the lobby, which was quiet.

It was quiet, and there were only a few people moving around, coming and going.

He made his way to the elevator, stepping in just as the doors slid open. Inside, a young couple stood together, whispering and sharing a quiet laugh.

Damon offered them a polite nod and then leaned back against the elevator wall, feeling the exhaustion from the day creeping in.

As it started to go up, the lift quietly hummed, and the lights above the doors flashed one floor at a time as it went. Damon let out a small sigh.

He was already thinking about how nice it would be to be in bed and how he needed to start getting ready for his fight.

.

.

As the elevator doors slid open, Damon stepped out while the couple remained inside, their laughter and whispered conversation fading as the doors closed behind him.

He made his way down the quiet hallway, the familiar hum of the building making him feel at home.

When Damon got to the door to his apartment, he stopped because he knew it was probably locked.

He looked for his keys by rummaging through his pockets.

As he searched for them and struggled to open the door, he thought about whether his mom was already home from her job interview.

'She had to be'

A small smile forming on his lips. His mom wasn't much of an "outdoors" person, preferring the comfort and familiarity of home.

Damon was surprised to find that the apartment was completely dark when he walked in.

It felt strange and even unsettling to be back in the warm comfort of home.

When he shut the door, the sound echoed through the empty room.

All of a sudden, he heard noises like shuffles coming from the living room.

His body tensed, the fighter in him instinctively on edge.

'Did someone break in?'

His heart beating a little faster. Moving cautiously, he approached the light switch on the wall, his steps slow and deliberate.

He pressed the switch, and the lights flickered on, flooding the room with brightness.

His mother was standing near the couch, turned slightly away, her hand covering part of her face.

Damon let out a sigh of relief. "Mom," he said, his voice tinged with nervous laughter, "I thought someone broke in."

Aoife turned to him, her laughter forced and thin. "Haha, very funny," she replied, but her voice sounded different, strained, almost forced. "This is a… safe place, you know."

Damon nodded, but a feeling of unease settled in his gut.

Something was off. Her tone wasn't quite right, and her posture seemed stiff, like she was trying to hide something.

Aoife didn't even look in Damon's direction as she spoke. "It's good you're back," she said, her voice wavering slightly. "Please lock up… I'm tired, and I'll be going to sleep early." She hastily moved toward her room, her footsteps quick and almost anxious.

Damon didn't like the way she was acting. Something felt very wrong. He called out, "Mom…"

She paused mid-step, her back still to him, and stood there for a moment, frozen. Damon's concern deepened, and he took a hesitant step forward. "Mom, are you okay?" he asked softly, his voice full of worry.

Aoife just stood there with her shoulders stiff. There was a long, heavy silence between them that was full of anxiety.

Her hands fell limply to her sides, and Damon's concern only grew.

He stepped closer, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

She shuddered slightly at his touch, and his worry deepened.

Damon carefully turned her around, his eyes searching her face.

She was looking down, avoiding his gaze, but he noticed the redness in her eyes, the tears threatening to spill over.

His heart began to pound, a surge of fear and confusion washing over him.

What happened? he wondered, his mind racing.

His mother was strong, resilient, she rarely, if ever, cried.

Maybe she had shed a tear or two for moments of happiness, but this… this was different. This wasn't joy. This was pain.

"Mom," he whispered, his voice cracking slightly. "What's wrong?"

Aoife took a shaky breath but didn't immediately respond.

The silence that followed was suffocating, and Damon could feel the weight of whatever was troubling her pressing down on both of them.

She finally looked up at Damon, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears, and a deep sense of shame washed over her for breaking down in front of her son.

She tried to compose herself, but her emotions were too overwhelming to hide.

"I don't know," she said, her voice cracking. "I just… I don't know how much more I can take."

Her shoulders trembled, and she clutched at her hands, as if trying to hold herself together. "I've been trying, Damon. Trying so hard to find a job, to support us both. But every time, it's just rejection after rejection. No one wants to hire someone my age. No one thinks I'm worth investing in…"

Tears slipped down her cheeks, and she wiped them away hastily, feeling even more vulnerable. "I know you're doing amazing things," she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "You're fighting, making a name for yourself, and I'm so proud of you. But I feel… useless. Worthless. Like I'm not contributing to our future. And that's… that's so hard for me."

Her words hung in the air, heavy and raw, and Damon's heart ached seeing his mother, his rock, his source of strength, feeling so defeated.

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