Page 35 of The Fighter who Needed Me
Brooks
Whitechapel, England Feb 1813
Fighting every night for weeks on end until he collapsed back at home in exhaustion was not the way he wanted to live, but it was necessary.
He would fight at Carter’s every night and bring home stacks of cash.
Not that he needed it, but he kept them anyway.
And after fighting with the men in the ring, Brooks would slip out and find trouble in the streets.
After the first night with those men, who had all ended-up unconscious after their fight, and Brooks had ended up with a few cuts on his arms and ribs that he stitched up when he got back to the salon.
He found more trouble night after night.
Men wanted what he had because of his nice shirt, boots and pants. And those men would come after him with any means necessary.
Usually it was with fists. But sometimes it was more. Knives or guns.
He had to stitch up more than one knife swipe. But had dodged the gun shots so far.
Those men who came after him ended up dead or unconscious. They were meaner, and would fight harder and after those fights, he would feel the most alive.
He would be heaving for breath; his knuckles would be smarting, and he would be nursing a cut or two.
Brooks knew most of the men were only providing for their family, not trying to hurt him just to hurt him, and more often than not he would leave them money to find later.
But often, the men that came after him were the worst that the east end had to offer, and he knew he was lucky to be alive after a few close calls.
He just needed the outlet of fighting. He knew it was wrong to be going out and finding trouble, and yet, he did not care.
Carter had stopped him last night, “Listen, I know what you are doing each night after you leave. You have to stop Brooks. Getting yourself killed in the streets helps no one. It certainly does not help Persephone. I know she is out there and that you will find her. I know it. Do not get yourself killed before that happens though. I don’t want to see that happen.”
Brooks snarled at him and Carter pushed on, “She needs you. You know this. Do not turn into the man that you are not. This is not you. It has never been you. I am begging you to stop this Brooks. You need help. I can let you fight here more if that is what you need, but do not get yourself killed out there. I have seen the stitches you have had. You have to stop.”
Brooks sat down at Carter’s desk, hard. He ran his hands over his hair, knowing Carter was right.
He felt his eyes prick and Carter put his hand on his shoulder. “I miss her. Need her. Every day it gets harder and harder. She is the only woman I have ever wanted. The only one I have ever seen. She needs me as I so desperately need her. I can feel it in my soul, but not knowing where she is, is breaking me. The only way I can feel normal is when I fight. Even the fights you give me do not give me satisfaction. I go through the motions and win. It does not make me feel better. It makes it that much worse. I do not know what to do anymore. The only thing that can help me is her. She is my saving grace. The woman I love.”
He felt the tears slip free. And did not care that one of his oldest friends in the world was witnessing him break.
Carter kept his hand on his shoulder and stood by silently until Brooks pulled himself together.
Carter sat next to him in the second chair. “I can’t imagine what you are feeling. You and I are so similar in this way, and I hope one day to feel just how you do. Let me help you. Please. If you need to fight more, that is fine. We can figure it out. I am certain the crowds would not be sad to see more of the Angel’s King. But do not fight on the streets anymore. She will need you. Because I know that you will find her someday. I will do my best to help you. I give you my vow and my word. We will find her Brooks.”
Carter stood and he pulled out a sheet of paper and Brooks took it from him, his eyebrow raised in confusion.
“I have sent my men around London to find what they could about her. And her family. This is what they found.”
Brooks read the paper about Persephone’s parents and how they had not been able to have children.
He looked up at Carter in surprise. “This says her parents weren’t able to have children? Then how?”
Carter gestured at the paper, “Read on. Your woman is the strongest woman I know. And I don’t even know her.”
Brooks read about Bruce’s brother Bryant and his loving wife Charlotte. And how Bryant had lost his life in a riding accident and the shock had caused Charlotte to go into early labor. She died in childbirth and their little girl had gone to the only relatives she had left. Bruce and Kitty. She was sick a lot as a baby and had endless nurses, doctors and maids to care for her.
But this was where the information about Persephone ended. Bruce and Kitty left London and moved to their country house in Kent.
