Fighting For Life

by Kylie Alyssa Forte

  A few seconds after it began, it was over. I was ripped off by my father and dragged across the room. The second that man touched me, made me feel sick. I felt dirty. I fought to have him let go of me, but he wouldn’t budge.

  “Let go of me, Sunny,” I spat out. Just saying his name made me gag. I hated that man more than I hated my father. He deserved to die as well. I wanted to make both of them suffer before they meet their painful deaths.

  “Mm little girl, the way you say my name makes me so hard,” he said, trying to grab my hand.

  I slammed my body back onto his. The pain made me want to scream, and a few tears clouded my vision. His body slammed up against the wall extremely hard, making him groan in pain. He let go of me as his back bounced off the beige wall with my bloodstains.

  I didn’t go after my father again. I knew the two men were stronger than I was. Instead, I just stood there looking at him. The man who helped create me, the one I had called dad was gone. Of course, he had left long before. What was left in his place was a monster. He was an addict, a cruel bastard, and a psychopath. I hated him and everything he had become. He was no father to me; he was just another horrible person that deserved to die.

  His eyes met mine, and we stared at each other for a few seconds. He expected me to back down, but I wasn’t going to do that this time. He got angry at the disrespect I was showing him and scowled at me.

  “Get out,” he growled. “Get out of my house, you bitch.”

  “Excuse me? No, I paid the bills in this house for the past three years, I will not leave,” I stated stubbornly. I most certainly am not leaving the house that I worked hard to keep over our heads.

  “Get out!” he screamed louder, making me think he was losing his mind. He walked to the end table across from me and pulled something out from the drawer. I couldn’t tell what it was, but I knew it was going to be trouble.

  Suddenly, he raised it up towards me. “You have two minutes to get out before I blow your brains out just like your mother did to herself . . . You’re just like her, you know?”

  My eyes went wide. I didn’t even know he had a gun. After my mom died and the police took the gun that she killed herself with, I assumed we no longer had one.

  I looked at him and squinted. “You’re not gonna shoot me,” I challenged him while standing my ground. There was no way my own father was going to actually shoot me.

  He laughed coldly and clicked the bullet into the chamber. “Do you really want to test me? You never were the good daughter. I never liked you,” he stated while looking me dead in the eyes.

  I quickly understood that he wasn’t joking. He never did like me. After all, I’m not Kelsey.

  I ran into my room quickly and slammed the door. I locked it as fast as I could. In the closet, I found an old duffel bag that my sister had given to me long before she left; most of my things were my sister’s hand-me-downs.

  I quickly rummaged through my things and chucked in the clothes that I wore most of the time. I didn’t have much, so it didn’t take a long amount of time throwing most of my clothes into the bag. I grabbed the stuff on my nightstand that I used daily like my deodorant, toothbrush, and toothpaste, body spray, hair ties, and bobby pins. I then rummaged around my drawers looking for the old makeup bag that I hadn’t used in over two years; I knew I was going to need something to cover up Daniel’s handiwork to my face. My small wallet was also sitting on top of my dresser, so I pushed it in the bag as well.

  “You have twenty-three seconds!” he screamed, banging on the door.

  I made sure that I grabbed everything I needed, knowing I’d probably never return to my house. I made sure to grab my school bag, a hoodie, and my winter coat as I jumped out the window. I soon heard a loud bang, indicating he shot something, but I was already on the other side of the street, running away from the home I grew up in. I was being forced to run away from the only life I had ever known.

  I was still running until I got to the train tracks and decided that was finally far enough. I was hyperventilating and every time I breathed, my side felt like pure, hot fire. My vision was starting to cloud, and I needed a place to sit and calm down. I was in so much pain I wanted to die.

  Demetri should have just shot me. It would have been better for everyone.

  After a brief pause while catching my breath, I began walking to the center of town where all the stores and restaurants were. It was only a mile or so up the road. I tried to think of anything but the agonizing pain shooting throughout my whole body. It proved to be a very difficult thing to do though.

  I soon made it outside a diner that didn’t look too busy.

  “Ahh! Mommy! Is that a zombie?! It isn’t even Halloween anymore!” a little kid who was walking out of the diner shouted. That was the first time that night that I had even considered my appearance. I didn’t think about all the damage I would have acquired from Daniel’s rampage.

  I glanced in a window and quickly put on my hoodie. I zipped up the black fabric to cover up my bloodstained white shirt and quickly decided not to go into any of the stores. I needed to wash up and cover the ugly bruises with makeup.

  I remembered a truck stop on old highway seventy-six. It was a place my sister used to take me to shower when my dad didn’t pay the gas bill for the hot water. I didn’t remember how much it cost, but I was certainly in need of a shower. I hoped that I had at least a few dollars stashed in my wallet.

  I trekked my way up the mile and a half walk to the store, and I quickly went in. There was hardly anyone there, but I kept my hood up and my head down. I made my way over to the cashier; where behind it was a man maybe of college age.

  “How much for a shower?” I asked hesitantly; a little bit afraid of the cost.

  “Seven fifty . . .” he stated in a bored tone without even glancing at me.

  I breathed a sigh and grabbed my wallet from the bag. I sat the bag down and opened my wallet. I had four one-dollar bills crumpled up which gave me a little hope.

  Maybe I had enough change to cover the rest!

  I looked up at the man and he gasped when he processed all my damage. I started to fish out some change.

  “One, two, seventy-five, eighty-five, ninety, ninety-one, ninety-two, ninety-three,” I counted out loud hoarsely. I suddenly realized I had no more change, so I put everything together.

  “Okay . . . four, five, six, six dollars and ninety-three cents. Shit . . .” I felt like crying suddenly.

  “Ma’am, it’s okay I’ll cover the rest,” he stated while staring at my face still. “Here,” he said and handed me a key, towel, and a bar of soap. The key had a wheelchair engraved on it, and I looked back towards the doors.

  “Thank you!” I said gratefully. I had never been so happy to take a shower in my whole life, but I could feel the dried blood smeared on my face.

  I walked to the door with the wheelchair on it and unlocked it quickly. I slid inside and locked it back. It was a big bathroom with a shower in the corner. I was also very grateful that he gave me the handicapped bathroom. I looked in the mirror and suddenly realized why I had been given this bathroom; it was because I really did look handicapped.

  My right eye was swollen and bruised. My left cheek and jaw were purple and black, my right cheek had a big gash with dried blood on it, and my nose was crooked and swollen with dried blood under it. My upper and lower lips were busted on different sides while my neck had strangle marks on it, and that wasn’t even taking off any of my clothes. I was in so much pain, and I looked horrible.

  I slowly stripped my bloody clothes off. My body looked like it should be black, blue, and purple rather than white. My sides had deep dark purple bruises on each side. I knew I had ribs broken by the way it hurt to just simply breathe. The place he cut me underneath my collarbone more than likely needed stitches, but considering the situation, I’d have to ignore it. My stomach looked like one big bruise, and my legs had various bruises in varying colors on them all the way down. I looked
just as bad as I felt.

  I turned the knob and waited for the water to heat up. I stepped in and let the warm water consume me. It was like heaven. It relaxed me as much as I could relax in the situation that I was in.

  I noticed blood was coming out as I rinsed my hair; no wonder my head hurt so bad. It took forever to get all the blood off my body; but eventually, most of it came off, and I stopped the shower.

  I dried off and wrapped myself in the scratchy towel. I made my way to the duffle bag and started pulling out clothes. I put on a sports bra and underwear, then I ended up in my jeans and a black t-shirt with my hoodie. The sports bra hurt like hell, but it felt more held together and compressed against my straining chest and ribs, almost like I had a wrap around them or something.

  My cut was still bleeding so I tore a piece of the bloodstained shirt off and stuck it on the cut like a band-aid. It didn’t stick too well, but it was good enough; I couldn’t be too picky. I wouldn’t be surprised if any of my cuts and wounds ended up infected by my poor treatments. I didn’t have the means to worry about that though.

  I quickly organized my duffle bag and pulled out the makeup kit. I never wore makeup unless I was covering something up; I never learned how to wear makeup for fun. I hadn’t needed to cover anything up for over two years since I had gotten involved with the Demetri. I hoped that I remembered how to do it. I had a lot to cover up that time.

  I pulled out the makeup that was handed down to me from both my sister and mother; we all had pretty much the same skin tone. I knew that this would make the cuts even worse, but I had no other options. Walking around in my state would just bring unwanted attention to myself. It burned like hell as I smeared the makeup across the cuts. I quickly used concealer and foundation to subtly cover up the bruises and other products to draw attention away from the off-color and texture of my skin. Thank God, they both used high-end brands with good coverage. It didn’t cover them up completely, and it made me look odd. If you truly looked at me, you would be able to tell that I had the snot beaten out of me, but it was close enough.

  Besides, I hardly ever got looked at anyways.

  I packed up all my stuff and headed back toward the clerk. “Thank you so much!” I said sincerely as I handed him the key back.

  He looked up and gasped again. “W-What happened to your bruises?”

  “The power of makeup is amazing, huh? You can barely tell that I almost died, right?” I stated with a small smirk, but it quickly faltered because it hurt my face to do that.

  He stared at me for a few more seconds. I could tell that he was realizing that behind the mask of makeup, I still looked messed up. He gave me a sympathetic look, and I could tell that I needed to leave. If I stayed there any longer, he’d start asking questions that I couldn’t answer for him.

  I thanked him again and then exited the store. I began walking to the north side of town, knowing exactly where I was going.

  Chapter Three

  The Underground

  I walked up the darkened pathway to the heavy door. It smelled like smoke and sweat the closer I got to the establishment. I nodded calmly at the bouncer, and he opened the door for me within an instance, barely even glancing at me.

  That was the beauty of being me, hardly anyone noticed me. I was, for the most part, invisible and unnoticeable.

  I made my way through the door and was assaulted by all the smells at once. If I hadn’t been used to it, I might’ve gagged. I instantly made a beeline for the bar, pushing through the sweaty people who were dancing on the small dance floor and weaving around drunks.

  I sat down on a bar stool and waited.

  “Welcome to the Underground, what can I—Aubry!” Jace, the attractive dark-skinned young bartender, yelled over the music.

  “Jace!” I said, mocking him as he smirked at me.

  Jace and I were cool—not quite friends but more than acquaintances. That was how I got free drinks every night I came in. It pays off to be nice to the bartender.

  “You know I’ve been asked by several people about a girl fitting your description. Long dark hair, pale skin, small . . . but it’s been like a month since you’ve been here! You used to come every night,” he said, looking at me curiously as if he was trying to figure me out.

  The Underground was one of my main places of business. It was where I pushed most of my supplies out. There were many drug addicts that frequented the sketchy place, so the drugs were easy to sell. I could even upcharge them most of the time, high demand equals high costs.

  It was also the perfect place to get away with selling drugs; the whole place was running on unlawful behavior anyhow. What was a little drug dealing compared to a whole underground fighting ring, gang involvement, cop bribery, underage alcohol selling and consumption, and much, much more?

  Now though, after getting beaten by Daniel . . . I was regretting even becoming a dealer. I should have figured out another way. I should have just done a redo the night of my fifteenth birthday, then none of this would have even happened. I wouldn’t have even needed to ask Demetri for help at all. It all would have been okay.

  Of course, only I and the drug addicts knew that I was the one selling the illegal substances. I liked to keep a low profile. I never gave any of my customers my name, and I always kept my hood up most of the time. So, I prayed that I wouldn’t be bothered too much. I didn’t have the energy for that. Plus, it had been a whole month since I had visited the place, so I hoped that the druggies all found new connections. After all, a month without a fix is a long time in an addict’s mind.

  “You know you literally just described like half of the girls here, right?” I told him with a scoff and a playful eye roll. “But if anyone asks for me specifically . . . tell them I’m dead. I don’t want any of these nasty people looking for me.” I laughed with a shrug, making Jace shake his head at me.

  He laughed. “What can I get you?”

  “A double . . . triple . . . hell, make it a quadruple,” I huffed.

  “Bad day today?” he asked as he poured me two doubles.

  I nodded trying not to think about how horrible my day had actually been. “You have no idea,” I said, taking the first shot quickly.

  I smiled as the burning sensation went down my throat, tickling it slightly. I wasted no time and took the second one right after the first.

  I looked up at Jace. “Mmm Bourbon . . . my favorite.” I welcomed the feeling of drunkenness but barely felt anything. I needed more.

  “Damn girl, here . . .” Jace said, handing me a medium-sized cup. “It’s a whiskey and coke, mostly whiskey for you. Slow down though. I can’t afford to give you a hundred free drinks. Once you get to seven, I’m cutting you off. You should be pretty well drunk by then.”

  I smiled at him and took a small sip as I smiled innocently. He assessed me for a moment. I was sure that he was realizing that I was off, but with the dim lighting and my makeup from over the bar, he probably wouldn’t be able to place his finger on the issue. He shook it off and then walked to the other end of the bar to check on the other customers.

  I took a giant swig as soon as he walked away from me. I needed the drinks. I needed the numbness. I needed the pain to stop.

  I slowly felt myself marginally relaxing as I drank the drink because of my pain. I slowly turned to the mats on the raised floor covering in the middle of the large building. Soon enough, someone came onto the microphone shouting, “Place your final bets! Place your final bets!”

  I grimaced at the fact that there was going to be another fight. I didn’t really mind the fact that it was basically an illegal fighting club, but after the shit that just happened to me—hell, what happened throughout my whole life—I had enough violence to last me twenty lifetimes. I didn’t really want to witness any more, but still . . . my eyes wouldn’t look away from the mats.

  “Isn’t that your girlfriend?” I asked Jace over my shoulder as soon as I recognized who was about to fight.

  His e
yes widened comically at my question. “No! No! Absolutely not. Is that what she told you?!” He was frantic in denying it since the people around us heard and gave him questioning glances.

  “Um no . . . but y’all have been seeing each other for like a year so I just assumed . . .” I stated quietly, hoping for no one else to overhear our conversation.

  “Oh, no we’re just fucking around, no strings attached,” he said nonchalantly.

  I furrowed my eyebrows. Wow, after a whole ass year? Damn, that’s a long time to just be screwing someone. I knew the kind of girl Crystal was though, and I wouldn’t blame Jace for not wanting anything more than sex with her. Actually, I was pretty sure that was all that Crystal ever wanted too. Jace was a shameless and willing placeholder until someone better or hotter came along. I knew her MO. It was typical.

  “No strings? After a year. Wow,” I commented.

  “A year off and on. No judging,” he snapped at me.

  “Oooh touchy, touchy. I won’t judge as long as you get me a refill!” I said, shaking the empty glass in his face with a teasing smile. I knew he wasn’t actually mad at me; he was too laid-back of a dude for that. Besides, he knew that I didn’t care who he was sleeping with.

  “Light rum on ice with a squeeze of lime this time, please and thank you!” I demanded with a soft giggle.

  He shook his head and made the drink with no complaints. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” he teased, shoving the glass at me. He always shamelessly flirted with me like he did with everyone else. He was a bartender after all, that’s how they make their tips. I thought it was quite hilarious.

  I turned my attention back to the mats as soon as the announcer yelled for the fight to start. Both girls were landing punch after punch on each other. It was fascinating while gruesome at the same time. With the injuries that the two of them were sustaining, I hoped that they got paid a lot to do this. Someone could easily get some permanent damage if it was a bad enough fight.