Bruised and broken, she lay on the ground. Her dark hair drifted across the mat, sticking to the blood seeping from her head wound. Her body ached. Purple and blue splotches covered her skin. This fight was lasting forever, taking every piece of her and it was only round 3. If only her heart would stop beating...then she could rest. But this was a fight until the end; she must fight until her last breath.



"What a fool I was," she thought as she struggled to rise, "to think I could take this on and come out the victor." She swayed as she stood, eyes blackened and lip bleeding. The spectators in the stands watched and looked on in surprise as she readied herself for yet another round.



Her opponent sneered as she turned to face him. How pathetic she looked. His stormy gray eyes shone with the anticipation of another turn, another chance to knock her off her feet.



She was the best game he had ever played.



She wouldn't give up, she wouldn't give in...And that's what made her so much fun.



"You can't win, "he told her, glee apparent in his voice, "I am always triumphant." Her dark eyes sparked at the challenge. "That's because you hadn't fought me yet." A smile stretched across his lips as he read the determination in her eyes. "You'll be fun to break," he said as the bell for the next round rang out.



Again and again, that bell would ring as the two would continue their morbid dance. 4, 5, 6, 7 rounds...she still got up from the mat and turned to face him, her heart still beating strong. With each new round, new purple marks decorated her arms; new cuts crisscrossed her cheeks. Yet each time, she stood, fists at the ready, waiting for the bell to ring again. Now even her opponent was shocked to see her stand back up. No one had ever made it this long.


How was she still alive?



Once more, she hit the mat and once more, she rose. Again the bell rang but this time, this time it was different. Before, her opponent held the upper hand but somehow this round belonged to her. For every wound her opponent inflicted upon her, she gave back to him two-fold. Here was a ferocity that had never been seen in someone playing this game. Soon, he was the one who was bruised and bleeding and she was the one circling him like a predator after her prey. One last hit and he hit the ground.



Gasping for air, he clutched his arm, trying to hold the broken bones in place. He lay on the mat, staring up at her face in shock. "How?" he managed to ask. A satisfied grin fell across her cracked lips. "Every time you knocked me down, I wanted to give up, "she said.”Why didn't you?" he growled. The grin grew wider.



"Every time I wanted to give up, my Hope, my Strength whispered quietly to my heart: One more round..."