Volume one

I never understood why people decided to walk down a path of violence. I've grew up around violence my whole upbringing, it just never really stuck to me. I guess maybe I never saw what other people saw. My father was a world class boxer/MMA fighter, most people would think I would take after my father. Seeing how I'm a spitting image of him. To be honest I'm deathly afraid of confrontation, even if I'm a bigger guy. A slight change in someone's voice causes my to back down, which wouldn't been such a bad thing. It's more of a defensive mechanism I've grown very fond of over the years. Of course my Father trained me for years of my childhood, I enjoyed spending time with my father no matter how many times he beat me. I was just glad I got to see him smile. So the punches we would throw at me wouldn't hurt as much as long we shared a bond over it. My mother wanted more children, my Father after having me would have a vasectomy. That would led to my parents divorce. While the divorce was taking action in my life, it didn't seem to effect my Father in any way. Which they made me very confused. I thought my Father loved my Mother, I was wrong though. With being the only child. My difficulty In life was different than others that had people around his or her age, it was just me and my Father. I questioned my Father on why he didn't continued having more children with my Mother. He didn't answer me. That bother me very much, I wanted to have a little sister or brother. I've got neither. What I got in return was a abusive father that wanted his son to grow up to be an unstoppable force. He failed in that aspect of his child's life, me and my father are totally opposite. After years of his abuse. My training would start off with me punching the sand for two hours at full speed. If I had slowed down, my father would pour cold water over me. Sometimes I would stop numerous times. I didn't care though as long as I made my father smile, that is what a son should do right is to make their parents proud. Well enough of that. After the sand punching followed another hour of knees to the concrete wall, when I first started my father gave me knee pads cause. He got tired of taking me to the hospital cause the broken bones. The concrete wall has more blood on it than it should have, this was very hard for me cause. Your knees are a very important thing in your life. After breaking them for so long. The pain of bending over is nothing but numbness, so my father came up with a contraption. The contraption was pretty easy of an idea, take two bamboo trees. Place them on both sides of my knees. Tie them around my knees with a zip tie or a copper wire, of course a lot of times this didn't work. My knees grew like cinder blocks. I hated how my body looks now after the years of torture I put myself through for my father's acceptance. Now look at me. I have nothing to appreciate for, that was day one of training. I always hated day two of training, not cause of the shin kicks against street lamp. Cause of the videos my father would show me. My Father was obsessed with the idea of creating the perfect man, with that being said he wanted to create everything in me. So of course he would record himself having sex with my mother. He told me to take notes on the matter, my mother knew nothing of this. She thought she was just having a very intimate time with her beloved husband. It wasn't just one video or one position, he wanted videos of them doing cosplays. Fantasy's. Nothing brings my horror to a child then hearing the moans of their parents making love. Those sessions would last five hours Long, during those sessions my Father would give me pointers or tips. Most of these ripe were on how it last longer in bed. What to whisper into a woman's ear for to enjoy themselves better. While teaching me these things he told me to never show any emotions. He said always put a smile on. A smile is the hardest facial expression to read, it took me years to understand that. I couldn't quite understand what he meant by that. He was a crazy man, his tactics were on another level. He always said that that the fight is never about how strong the their physicality are. That is only about maybe fifteen percent of the fight, after watching my father perform the act of lovemaking to my Mother. He would make me practice help thrusting. The weight would changed depending on how many times I would fail, let's say I would fail to do two hundred pounds for two reps. He would put on an extra two hundred pounds until I could do the reps. The reps would change on the weather, the more rainy the day was the more I would do with grip strength. His grip strength training was was strange to me. I never doubted my Father's training methods cause he was the. Best to ever do it in his sport, no matter the fighting sporr he was undoubtedly the greatest. So when news came out that his wife was pregnant. He retired. The media was shocked to hear the the greatest was retiring, his rivals were even more shocked to hear the news. After the thiry years of fighting at the highest level. He lost three times, that was cause once of a heart attack. The other two were cause of a MCL tear, that is the story of Buster Jackson.