Chapitre 3: : Internal Conflict

Chapter 3

The familiar scent of sweat, chalk, and the faint staleness of old leather hit Jack the moment he stepped through the doors of the gym. The rhythmic thuds of fists hitting punching bags and the sharp squeal of sneakers against the mats echoed through the space, but today it all felt different. The gym, once filled with Ethan's energy and laughter, now felt like a hollow shell, a ghost of its former self.

Jack hesitated by the entrance, his heart heavy with grief and uncertainty. He hadn't wanted to come here, hadn't wanted to face the people who had known Ethan as well as he did—his training partners, his friends, his second family. But a part of him couldn't stay away. He needed to feel close to Ethan again, even if it meant stepping into the place that reminded him of what he had lost.

He slowly made his way inside, his eyes scanning the gym. It was just like he remembered: the rows of punching bags hanging from the ceiling, the mats where fighters sparred, the weight room off to the side. Everything was the same, except for the absence of his brother's presence, which made the place feel strangely foreign.

As he walked further into the gym, Jack's thoughts swirled. The funeral had left him numb, the grief so overwhelming that he could barely process it. But beneath the sorrow was something darker—an anger that simmered just beneath the surface. Every time he thought about Rico, that anger flared, threatening to consume him. Jack didn't know how to control it, how to cope with the conflicting emotions tearing him apart.

"Jack?"

A familiar voice pulled him from his thoughts, and he turned to see one of Ethan's close friends, Marcus, standing by the ring. His face was drawn, his usual easygoing smile replaced with a look of sadness and frustration. Marcus had been one of Ethan's closest training partners, and the two had shared countless hours in this gym, pushing each other to be better, faster, stronger.

"Hey, Marcus," Jack said quietly, trying to muster a semblance of normalcy, though he knew it was futile.

Marcus stepped closer, his eyes searching Jack's face for some sign of how he was holding up. "I didn't think you'd come back here… after everything."

Jack shrugged, his hands stuffed in his pockets. "I don't know why I came, to be honest."

Marcus nodded, understanding. "It's hard, man. We all miss him."

Jack's throat tightened, and for a moment, he couldn't speak. He wasn't sure if he could handle hearing people talk about Ethan in the past tense. It made it all too real, too final. He wanted to pretend, just for a moment, that Ethan was still alive, still training, still preparing for his next fight.

But he wasn't. And Jack couldn't escape that truth.

"How are the others?" Jack asked, his voice hoarse. "The guys Ethan trained with?"

"They're hurting, just like you," Marcus said, his tone heavy. "No one can believe what happened. We're all angry, Jack. Rico shouldn't have walked away like that. It wasn't right."

Jack felt his jaw tighten, the familiar surge of anger bubbling up again. "No," he muttered. "It wasn't."

Marcus sighed, his hands resting on his hips as he glanced toward the ring, where a couple of fighters were sparring. "You know, the worst part is… it feels like there's nothing we can do. The officials made their ruling, and Rico's still out there, still fighting, like nothing happened. It's messed up."

Jack nodded, feeling the same helplessness Marcus was describing. It was one thing to mourn Ethan's death, but it was another to know that the man responsible had faced no consequences. Rico had thrown that illegal elbow, and now Ethan was gone. And yet, the world continued to spin, as if nothing had changed.

"I keep thinking about it," Jack admitted, his voice low. "About what I could've done. If I had been there for him more, maybe… maybe things would've been different."

Marcus frowned. "You can't think like that, Jack. Ethan knew what he was getting into. We all do, every time we step into that cage. It wasn't your fault."

Jack wanted to believe that, but the guilt gnawed at him. He had been the older brother, the one who was supposed to look out for Ethan, to protect him. And now, he was gone, and Jack didn't know how to live with that.

"I just don't know how to deal with this," Jack confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "The anger, the grief… it's eating me alive."

Marcus was silent for a moment, his eyes filled with empathy. "You're not alone, Jack. We're all angry. We all want justice. But…" He hesitated, as if searching for the right words. "Revenge isn't going to bring Ethan back. It's not going to fix anything."

Jack looked down at his hands, his fingers twitching with the need to do something, anything, to make things right. "Maybe not. But it feels like the only thing I can do."

Marcus stepped closer, his voice gentle but firm. "I get it, man. I really do. But if you go down that path… it'll destroy you. Ethan wouldn't want that. He wouldn't want you to lose yourself in this."

Jack closed his eyes, trying to block out the torrent of emotions crashing over him. He knew Marcus was right, but that didn't make it any easier. The desire for vengeance was like a poison, seeping into his thoughts, clouding his judgment. He wanted to make Rico pay, to make him feel the pain that Ethan had felt, that his family was still feeling. But deep down, Jack knew that revenge wouldn't bring him peace. It wouldn't fill the void that Ethan's death had left behind.

"I don't know how to let this go," Jack admitted, his voice cracking. "I don't know how to move on."

Marcus sighed, resting a hand on Jack's shoulder. "You don't have to figure it all out right now. It's okay to be angry, to grieve. But don't let it consume you, Jack. Don't let it turn you into something you're not."

Jack nodded, but the internal conflict still raged within him. He felt like he was standing at a crossroads, torn between the desire for revenge and the need to find a way to cope with his grief. Every instinct told him to fight, to make Rico pay for what he had done, but a small, quiet voice inside him whispered that it wasn't the answer. That there had to be another way.

But what was that way? How was he supposed to find peace when everything in his life had been shattered?

"I miss him," Jack whispered, his voice trembling. "I miss him so much."

Marcus's expression softened, his own eyes glistening with unshed tears. "We all do, Jack. We all do."

The two men stood in silence for a long moment, the weight of their shared grief hanging heavy between them. Jack's mind was a storm of conflicting emotions—anger, guilt, sorrow, and the gnawing sense of helplessness. He didn't know how to navigate the path ahead, but one thing was clear: Ethan's death had changed him, and nothing in his life would ever be the same.

As he looked around the gym, at the place that had been such a huge part of Ethan's life, Jack realized that he had a choice to make. He could let the anger consume him, driving him toward a path of revenge, or he could find a way to honor his brother's memory in a way that wouldn't destroy him.

But how? That was the question Jack couldn't yet answer.

And as he left the gym that day, the weight of that decision pressed down on him, heavier than ever.

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