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Not that it matters.
Because this isn’t about winning. It’s so much more than that.
Focussing on Kid, I let my body just react to the music, the beat dictating how I move my body. I don’t worry about the fact I can’t perform all the moves I used to do because of my partial amputation, I just take my cues from her and forget about my injury.
Kid keeps dancing, her movements raw, her energy like a bolt of lightning to my heart.
I’m helpless against it. Hopeless when it comes to this woman and the way she lights me up from the inside out. When she transitions from hip-hop to contemporary in one smooth kick of her leg, my feet move of their own accord.
I have no choice but to dance.
No, fuck that. Iwantto dance.
The crowd, sensing something special is happening, cheers louder, fuelling my need to just let the fuck go. It’s time I join in on the fun.
Crossing my feet, I drop and spin, the force of the movement making the crowd blur as I turn then push back upwards, transitioning into a one-handed backflip.
Muscles that haven’t been used for a while scream at me but I ignore them, determined to keep going, to immerse myself in the music, the beat, the energy, the freedom dancing gives me, the fucking joy.
I’m unstoppable, and as a result, the energy in the club builds, making the hairs on my arms stand on end. That buzz I used to get when I was a kid about to battle against another crew comes rushing back in, firing up my blood. Triggering this need to just move my body.
The crowd goes nuts. I don’t hold back.
I dance into Kid’s space, imitating her moves, urging her on, battling her. The grin on my face spreads as wide as hers as we dance with pure fucking joy.
I don’t think about the pain in my arm.
I don’t think about the fact I’m rusty as fuck and to the more discerning eye, have messed up a few moves. I keep dancing.
In return, Kid taunts me with one impressive move after another. She battles me with every last scrap of energy, urging me to dig deep, to forget about what I can’t do, and forcing me to just dance.
I match her skill as best I can, and with every step I feel more like me.
The old me.
The me before I lost my arm to her cunt brother.
I’ve put on a brave face. I’ve worked through my demons as best I can, and have lived happily with my woman and my brothers. I’ve been deliriously happy.
And yet, deep down, losing part of my arm has fucked with my head.
I know that.
I’ve tried my best to keep that part of me hidden.
But you can only push down your feelings for so long before they seek a way out.
Kid knows that, and she’s giving me an outlet.
And despite joking about this being a form of therapy.
It fucking is.
It always has been.
For the both of us.
With one last attempt to win this battle, I run towards Kid, drop to my knees and slide across the floor, ending up at her feet. She looks down at me, her own skin covered in a sheen of sweat grinning as the crowd cheers and claps, their feet stamping as DJ Foxy announces her the winner.
