Read Online Born to Fight by Mark Hunt, Ben Mckelvey - Free Book Online Page A

attention moved to me.
    ‘Mark. Hunt. My mate, you remember him?’ he asked the person on the phone. There were a few words on the other end of the line, and Dave smiled. ‘I dunno. I’ll ask him. Hey man,’ he called over to me. ‘You want to move to Australia, live with my brother?’
    I’d never been to Australia. I’d never been anywhere, except the country towns where Sam had taken me and the boys to surf, smoke weed and fight. I’d heard a lot about Australia, of course – not that different from NZ, but a little bigger, a little busier and with a few more opportunities.
    It wasn’t here, that was the main attraction of the place. What would I be leaving behind? Dead-end jobs? Clubs I’d been to a thousand times? Endless games of Mortal Kombat in Dave’s garage?
    I would be leaving one thing behind, though: a daughter. My daughter was born just after I got out of prison the first time. She wasn’t the product of a committed relationship, she came from a couple of kids who were starting to grow into their bodies. When the girl’s mother said she didn’t want me to have anything to do with the baby, I was relieved. Some people could have handled the responsibility at that age, but I was a dangerous teenager who would have brought nothing to that kid’s life besides misery and violence.
    I was still a child myself then, and became something even worse than that – a broken, immature adult. I knew what it was like trying to grow up in a house with a broken, immature adult in charge. I knew the damage that could do.
    Maybe this is all emotional retrofitting, but given who I was at the time it probably worked best for all involved.
    It would have gnawed at most men, knowing their daughter was being raised by someone else. It did gnaw at me later on in life, but in that period I had no issue completely freezing out parts of my life that I didn’t want to think about.
    One day before leaving for Oz, a semi-naked man rode past me on a bicycle with his arms flailing, screaming obscenities. It took me a minute or so to even realise it was my brother Steve. When I recognised him, I felt no compassion or pity, just embarrassment. I wanted Steve to get the fuck out of my sight so I didn’t have to think about him anymore. When the opportunity to go to Australia came, I did have to reach out to John, though.
    Dave had a place for us to stay when we got to Australia; his brother George was willing to let us crash with him for a little while. We also reckoned we’d be able to get some door work as soon as we touched down, but the issue with our plan was getting there. We didn’t have two dollars to rub together between us for the flights.
    Of all my siblings, John was the one I’d had the most problems with because we were so different, and that was why I had to reach out to him. He was quiet and studious, and he saved his money. I didn’t know how he was going to react when I asked him for cash. I thought there was a distinct possibility he would have a go at me.
    Anger was one thing John and I had in common. My anger ran in ebbs and flows, though. My anger you could see build and recede. John’s would lie dormant until, in an instant, the world was all fire and brimstone.
    In the end I didn’t even really have to sell it to him. He just nodded and told me he’d sort it out. No ‘why’, no caveats, just that he’d sort it out. He took a student loan to help us and it was enough money for both of us to get to Sydney, as I couldn’t go anywhere without Dave.
    Up to that point there had been scant occasions in my life when someone had done something for me without expecting a little bit of kickback later on down the track. I think John helped me because he knew how far behind I was when I started this life. I think John helped me because he was my brother.
    None of us Hunts got much out of our family, but I got this, and it’s something I’ll always remember. I’d fucked John over, I’d helped send him to