In My Final Match, My Girlfriend Beat Me Down in the Ring

Ridgeport's underground fighting ring had one unwritten rule.

Your last match before you walked away was a death match. Whoever lost, left their life behind.

Almost everyone was sure I'd leave safely.

For six months straight, I'd held the top spot on the fighters' list without a slip.

I never thought I'd see Georgia James in that ring.

Every move I knew, she'd taught me.

Fighting her, I would lose. There was no other outcome.

The whistle blew, and blow after blow landed on me, tight and vicious.

Then a clean, sharp crack of breaking rib, and I went down.