There are two ways to win a fight.
The first way is of course the most straightforward. To win. This is the path seized by those who are incredibly strong, or those who are paired with opponents that are depressingly weak.
The ability to utterly, completely win your battle is an ultimate dazzling testament to your prowess, and is the path that almost everybody vye for.
Yet there's another way to win a fight, this way is more complex and way less dazzling but in some cases can be more heartwarming.
The second way to win in a fight is to not lose. This is the way of the survivors, the way of those that have decided to forge their victory with their own hands, it's a painful path, filled with blood that is most likely yours and leaves you exhausted and pained, yet fulfilled.
Sadly this is the path I see myself on.
Unfortunately these were the thoughts that fluttered in my head as I limped across the road, trying not to pay any attention to the bullet wound in my thighs I got from another failed job.
My hands clutched around the pocket of my coat, my teeths gritted because of the pain yet the soft feeling of the bread in my pocket kept me from slowing down.
In a second I turned the corner and hid inside the hole dug out there. A special hiding spot I prepared in case something like this happened.
A minute later my pursuers sped past, chasing the trail my teammates made.
Former teammates I mean as they abandoned me when the going went south.
After resting and listening for ten more minutes, I left the hiding spot and limped on more slowly and less inconspicuously to my den.
I threw a glance at the quick tourniquet I made around my thigh, the red cloth moist and looking even more red. Thankfully the cloth was tight enough that there were no blood trails to follow.
After spending almost an hour walking around and making sure I wasn't followed, I finally entered my den to get myself treated.
Settled down on my bed, I pulled out the bread in my pocket. Just a small pocket loaf stolen from the pantry of a baker.
"Hardly seems worth it, does it?"
My head flicked up at the sudden noise, adrenaline spiked, I stood up searching for the source, the pain at my thigh being numbed.
"This past year has been like this, hasn't it?
Living from scraps to scraps. Bad gigs to worse gigs, it seems there's hardly a week you walk in here without shedding your blood outside and with less than the bare minimum to show for it."
I didn't know where the voice was coming from but I heard and had no choice but to agree with what it said.
I looked at the loaf of bread and saw that a rat was about to carry it off.
I immediately shooed it away before securing my prize. My leg ached and the tourniquet had started leaking.
"It's the thirty first of December. Last year, on this day you were like so many others, with family at a warm fire and your only worry was the fact that you wouldn't over eat and be bloated on new year.
Now with a shot leg, a loaf of bread shared with mice and a shed that's doing a miraculous job at just standing up, your major worry is if you'd make it to new year."
"Who are you?" I shouted at the voice in frustration.
"I'm you." He replied calmly.
"I'm the only one who has watched as life has become your biggest opposition unfairly. Losing your family, losing a home and food, losing your luck, losing your friends but you've entirely decided not to lose your life."
"I've seen how doggedly you fight. How you steadfastly hd on to the ropes and where so many have fallen you decided to not. I've kept quiet, looking on as you got wounded, hitted, slapped, pushed, kicked and beaten, you've been a lot of things, and although you haven't won, you haven't lost."
I listened quietly now, no energy to question, contradict or look for the source of the voice as the pain from my legs were becoming unbearable due to the adrenaline that was wearing off. My grip on the loaf lessened and I felt myself growing unconscious.
"You haven't lost. Despite how drastically stronger your opponent is, you haven't allowed it to win, you haven't allowed yourself to lose."
The voice sounded closer, I wanted to take a look but my eyes were closed and I didn't have the energy to reopen them.
"You held on. The year is almost over, just about three hours left. Then comes a new year and with it a new battle and although I can't say if the new fight would be easier or harder than this last one, all I can advise you is to not lose either.
For as you didn't lose to this last day of this year. As this year was infinitely stronger than you, and it didn't win, that makes you the winner. I expect you to not lose ever again."
I woke up refreshed, as refreshed as I'd ever been.
My leg was propped up on some cardboard boxes and my wound had been cleaned and tied with my old clothes.
I don't know if it was I or the strange voice who did it.
My bread though was halved and I know for a fact that it was the rat who had taken his share. First time I'm seeing a tenant who took rent from his land owner.
I remembered most of what the voice said. I thought about it. The ability of not losing.
Suddenly I heard the loud pops and bangs of fireworks and I knew a new year had come.
Slowly I ate the bread, drank the last of the water I had, wore my coat and headed out.
A new year, a new battle and I my plan was a simple straight forward one. Under no circumstances would I lose.
Header Image was created using Meta Ai and edited using Canva.
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