15.
I was wrapped in cotton comfort. The early morning sun rays beamed in through the glass sliding doors and magnified themselves upon my motionless sleeping body. I was cuddled up underneath the warm comforter in the fetal position. The sun rays were warm and heated me up, thus waking me. With my eyes still closed, I stretched and let out a big satisfying yawn, outreaching my hand, seeing if Paige was still there.
Her side of the bed was vacant and cool. There was some disappointment there, but I knew that she had other duties to attend to. I slowly rose from the bed. Everything was not so sore. I stretched again, raising my arms up high and yawning. I pulled off my PJ's and walked into the bathroom. In my line of work, it was a rarity these days if I would get a shower, so I took the opportunity. I took another one. As I was in the shower, I noticed a BIC. With great pleasure, I shaved my legs and my underarms and my arms. I couldn't help but to think to myself, they must trust me now if they are leaving the doors unlocked and leaving weapons of mass destruction lying around. I shaved and cleansed myself until my heart was content.
As I walked out of the shower, I wiped the fog from the mirror. I took the towel and dried myself thoroughly. I looked at myself in the mirror. Times were tough, but I was enjoying this new cut body that I went through hell to produce. I flexed my arms, I flexed my abs. I looked at my calves and flexed them. I couldn't help but smile. I then looked at my hair. My short, poufy short fairy hair. It was no wonder I was not taken seriously on the floor. I looked like a bloody blonde Q-tip. I rummaged through the cabinets beneath the sink and looked for something that could help me. I smiled as I found some hair gel. I had never used hair gel before in my life. I squeezed the bottle and a glob plopped down into my palm. I put some of the glob in the other Palm and applied it into my hair.
I was looking for more of an aggressive look. I began to spike my hair. I took the front part of my hair, entwined a single strand between my fingers and curled it over so that it touched my forehead. I took the sides and began to build them up into a classic mow-hawk. Grinning and looking at myself in the mirror, I popped up two thumbs. I was beginning to look like an aggressive Elvis Presley. I was a girl, but at this point I was one handsome mother fucker. The newly formed gash on my face didn't seem out of place at all. I figured my new line of work, it would add edge to my new character, the Switchblade Mama.
I smiled as I walked out of the bathroom naked. I tossed my PJ's into the hamper that was sitting next to the door. I went to my dresser drawer and pulled out a clean pair of panties and bra. I pulled on some blue jeans and a regular T-shirt. Tossed on my new balance and stretched once again. The morning sun was much stronger now. It was beaming rays of happiness into my room. Finally clothed, I walked outside and the balcony and looked onto the beach, the sun finally reaching its way over the oceans horizon.
I smiled as I saw joggers. I smiled even bigger because I was finally a part of everyday life. For the first time in a year, I finally felt a part of the world again. As I inhaled the crisp cool morning beach air once again, I knew I mustn't take long for I was being trusted. I wouldn't want to break that trust. I knew even though this was a quaint little vacation beach house, if it belonged to Paul Bishop, then there must be it's dark points as well.
I left the wonderful balcony. I quietly closed the sliding door. I walked to the door that was usually locked. I placed my hand upon the knob and slowly turned. It turned without hesitation and the door was open. Like a normal person I was exiting my room and entering another. I smiled. I looked to my right and saw a hallway littered with doors and I looked my left and saw staircase leading downward. Breakfast smells and coffee we leading me downward. I slowly walked down the staircase.
The whole house was bright and filled with colors. The whole house had every window open and the sun beaming through them. As I came to the foot of the staircase, I was greeted by a gorgeous living room with leather couches, a big screen TV, and tiled floors. There was a fish tank filled with saltwater fish.
The TV was on and CNN with it. I glanced at it for a moment before I was greeted by Paige. She emerged from the kitchen and looked at me with a smile. "I was wondering when you were gonna get up, sleepyhead."
She went to the kitchen and I followed. It was another beautiful quality of the house. Bright, with big open windows. Granite counter tops galore. Deep sinks with touch faucets. An oven range with all the bells and whistles. With my mouth wide open, I noticed nothing more but its gigantic beautiful glory.
"Sit down Switchblade."
Expelled from my thoughts, I looked toward the voice. It was Barrett sitting at the table with a plate of breakfast in front of him. Scrambled eggs, bacon and hash browns. My favorite as usual.
I sat down in my usual spot at the table in the middle, between Clive and Barrett. My plate was vacant and I knew Paige was in the process of loading it, but I used the time to look about the kitchen and enjoyed its gorgeousness.
Clive was reading the comics. I waited patiently for my breakfast and in return, Barrett blessed me with his conversation. "Nice? I do like what you did with your hair kid. It gives you a nice edge. One more week kid, until your next fight, are you ready?"
"Define your expectations of ready." I asked.
"Mr. Bishop did talk to last night, right?" Barrett replied with eggs in his mouth.
"He did."
"So you know what you have to do?" Barrett asked. He asked it cautiously. Even Barrett knew the consequences behind the actions that Paul Bishop asked me to do.
"I do." The response sent a shivering shutter down my spine. I kept getting thoughts in the back of my head of the bullets ripping through my skin as I became reckless on the floor.
"You got those two knives. You are the Switchblade Mama. You're gonna have to use them."
"Amen to that!" Clive added behind his newspaper comics. Clive pulled down his comics and looked at me briefly. He lifted up his comics again to read and then slowly lowered them again to look at me. "Damn Lill? Be sure to style your hair like that for next week's fight. You look damn good. More aggressive."
I couldn't help but smile. It was a complement well-paid. "Where was Fitz?"
"He was injured during a competition. He wanted to be there kid. So he will be here later today though, to help you with your knife play." Barrett added.
I leaned back in my chair and sat casually. Paige moved in with the plate of breakfast and leaned in closely to me. She leaned in so close to lay the plate in front of me that her breasts brushed against my back. I blushed and hoped that no one saw it. I picked up my fork and began to consume.
"Good song though Lill." Clive stated behind his comics.
"Thanks Clive," I said as I shoveled eggs into my mouth.
I slowly ate. I purposely slowed down to eat, so that the boys would leave and I would be left with the company of Paige. I so desperately yearned for her presence. It seemed that my troubled soul would only be calmed by the presence of hers.
As Clive and Barrett slowly rose from the table and left, my plan had worked. I finished my hash browns in pure satisfaction.
In no time at all, another part of bliss was placed in front of me. Paige had dropped off my coffee. Once again moving in ever so closely, her breasts brushed up against my back. I blushed even harder, but luckily no one was there to see it.
It was just as I liked it. 35% creamer and 65% coffee. I took a sip. "Mmmm, Mmm my favorite, coconut. Thanks babes, you're the best."
With coffee cup in hand and plate of breakfast in the other, Paige sat down at the table across from me. While she ate and sipped her coffee, we mingled in simple conversation. Eyes always meeting.
"How are you feeling?" Paige asked.
I took a deep breath and another sip of coffee. "Relatively good, you know, considering?"
She took a moment from her breakfast and looked at the gash on my face that big Bertha had caused two nights ago. "Y
our wound is healing very nicely. I would have to come to the conclusion that the cocktail that Dr. Cole has been providing you with is actually helping speed up your recovery time as well. Hopefully, there will not be too much scarring."
Duly noted I thought. However, I was somewhat saddened by the fact that she reminded me of my plight and my implants. The morning was normal and I felt as if I had a great start. But the thought of having implants and the need for a certain cocktail once a week to keep me alive saddened me greatly. I said nothing and half smiled.
"I'm sorry." She said.
I smiled back and shook my head. "Oh, it's all good. No worries."
Paige shifted and let out a big sigh. "No, look? I have no idea what you're going through right now. I could never fathom the thought." She placed her elbows upon the table and leaned in close. I had her utmost eye contact. "I am so very proud of you for getting this far. I just want you know, that you have nothing but my support. I want you to succeed Lill. I want to see you live. I like you."
She extended her arm from across the table. She reached out her Palm. I took her hand into mine. It was an instant feeling of warmth. It was a feeling of being comfortable. With her touch I was removed from all pains, worries and thoughts. I wanted to crawl into her arms forever. I wanted to never again feel another ounce of pain.
I was reminded of only days ago when Paige and I took a ride into the forest. I was reminded of how she deeply but so briefly kissed me.
There was a door from the outside to the kitchen that quickly opened. I pulled my hand swiftly back from Paige's and placed my fingers upon my lips, remembering her touch from her soft kiss.
Limping, and with a brace on his knee, Fitz slowly walked through the door. He looked tattered, worn and tired. Nevertheless, Fitz was always dressed to impress. He was sporting bright orange running shorts and a long sleeved thin blue shirt. He smiled as soon as he saw me and I smiled back. I rose quickly from my chair and placed my hand into his, giving him a firm handshake. "What's up guy? I missed you the other night." I pointed to the brace on his knee. "Looks like you got some battle wounds, bud."
Fitz couldn't help but laugh. He took his palm to my face and slowly traced his fingers down my newly formed wound. "Looks like you got yourself pretty fucked up as well, Lill? Or should I say, the Switchblade Mama."
I laughed a little bit. "Yeah, but I think it suits me well, dude."
He smiled and patted me on the shoulder. "It does Lill, it sure does." Fitz limped a few steps more before Paige put a cup of warm coffee into his hands. "Thanks Paige, my savior" He replied. "I have been looking forward to this all morning. I love your coffee."
"As do I?. With mostly creamer though." I said, laughing slightly.
Fitz took another sip of his coffee. He looked at me. "Follow me Lill, let's go check out where you will be working out for the next week."
I followed him out of the kitchen. On the other side of the room with the big-screen TV, the leather couches and CNN, there was a big opening that led to another room that had a pool table, dart games and various arcade machines. Street fighter 2, caught my eye and I wanted so badly to play it. I followed Fitz through another door into the garage. Of course in the garage there was another trick door leading downward. Fitz lifted the flap and I followed him downstairs that led to an underground room.
It was almost as big as the room that I worked out on at the farm. It consisted of florescent lighting, equipped with free weights and punching bags. There were soft pads that lay upon the floor and of course a marked off square that indicated the killing floor.
I walked into the fierce bland luminescence of the room. I looked up at Fitz and he looked at me. Fitz smiled. "Stay here for a minute. I need to get something quick. I'll be right back. Go ahead and warm-up while I'm gone." He turned from me and the left. His bright orange running shorts disappearing up the stairs.
I listened to what he said and I began to warm up. I did a few laps around the room, I did some push-ups. I galloped around the room, in my fighting stance. I threw punches and dodged imaginary attacks. I got myself pumped up. I knew Fitz went upstairs to grab my knives. It was time to learn how to be a better Switchblade Mama.
It wasn't soon after Fitz left, that he came back. I was all warmed up and sweaty. I stopped what I was doing as soon as he entered the room. Both hands lay by my sides, I waited for instruction.
Fitz walked up to me. Holding in his hands were my knives. He looked at me. "Okay, vintage switchblade and a curved, sailors knife?" He slowly opened the knife. It clicked into place, the sound of the click sending shivers down my spine. "The vintage switchblade is nice. I'll need to sharpen it though. Where did you get it?"
"My father gave it to me in my 15th birthday. He figured no woman should go unprotected. It was his father's."
"Okay, nice." He said. "So it has some history. How about the arched Spyderco blade? Definitely not too old, but looks well used."
"It was a gift from my friends, for my birthday. I found the serrated edges and the curve of the blade were quite useful when opening boxes. I took both knives with me to work every day. One was for cutting boxes and the other was for people... Just in case."
Fitz smiled. "Well Lill, I sure do like your style. Let's put these knives to good use, shall we?"
So the training began. The day went on and I and Fitz trained throughout the day. I didn't think anybody knew as much as Fitz did. He knew everything there was to know about mixed martial arts and he knew how to use knives, efficiently. We practiced slicing, jabbing? Anything and everything that was needed to know about attacking with a knife.
Fitz of course as usual, let me use him as a fake dummy to attack. I was armed with two knives. I had the switchblade in my right hand and the Merlin my left. He moved and dodged out of my way as I made strikes.
The thought of escape never left my mind the whole time. I could imagine over and over again of me thrusting my switchblade into his neck and making my escape, but the attempt would be made futile. Barrett, Clive and Paige still resided upstairs. I could try my best to escape and to make a scene, but to what cost? No, I would rather stay downstairs with Fitz and train. My time would come. My time would come.
The day had progressed into the evening. Paige ever so often brought in drinks and snacks for us to keep our energy up. I learned so much in one day. I was ambitious and thought I was ready for the next fight. It was only Monday and I still had the whole week to prepare. Saturday would be the day that I met my next battle with Serial Carol.
The days training was complete. Paige came downstairs to collect us for dinner. I was completely famished. Barrett, Clive, Paige and I consumed dinner. The boys, with their nightly routine, left after eating. I, as usual helped Paige with the dishes.
After the dishes were done, Paige walked me up to my room. She opened the door to let me in. She pulled the MP3 player from her pocket. She placed it into my hands, smiling. "I added some more songs on it." She said. "Music for your soul. I hope the songs will help you get some sleep." She added.
I smiled and gracefully took the MP3 player. As soon as the door closed, I put the ear buds into my ears and turned the player on. I was greeted by more soundtracks from Thomas Newman, Alan Silvestri and Hans Zimmerman. I embraced the soft melodic tunes.
I took a quick shower and put my PJ's on. I quickly got my MP3 player. The music was beautiful and it was great for my soul. I laid on bed listening to the wonderful music. I hoped that it would wipe away my nightmares. It did, as long as I was consciously awake. Soon as I lost consciousness, that was another story.
I was so tired; I was swiftly overcome by sleep. Sleep however was not so pleasant. I began to sweat profusely and tossed and turned. I had seen Big Bertha's face bloodied and battered over and over again. My fist was always covered in her blood. It was once again the pool of blood that I was drowning in. I tread as quickly as possible. It wasn't soon after that I gained some ground and got my head above the bloodied ocean. Then
my own hands deceived me and wrapped themselves around my neck. I became panicked. I was focused and trying to tear my own hands from my neck, all the while not paying attention to the fact that I stopped treading the blood. I slipped below the bloodline. I began to choke. I gasped.
I couldn't tell how long I was sitting up straight yelling. My yells of despair and panic echoed throughout the room. They bounced off the wall like a well-tuned sonar. My body was drenched with sweat. My eyes were wide and open, but I saw nothing. I turned my head and looked out into a beaming brightness. The moon was ever so slightly twinkling upon little platelets that were carefully drifting in the ocean. It was a twinkling gorgeousness that calmed my sporadic breathing. It was a natural ocean, no blood. I was still alive and not sent to hell. As my breathing calmed, the door to my room opened and Paige appeared from the darkness.
I couldn't help but smile as she went to the other side of the bed and pulled back the covers, letting herself in. "What, do you have a baby monitor in your room?"
"No silly, I can hear your screams throughout the whole house. It took me a while to realize that the screams weren't coming from my dream. They were coming from you."
"Hold me," I asked.
Paige moved in close and wrapped her arms around me. "And that, I shall."
Wrapped blissfully with Paige's arms around me and her beautiful soul so close to mine, I finally fell to sleep. A sleep without dreams, but at least it was a sleep without nightmares. The music for my soul was a good try. It would keep me content through those awakening intense times when I would be alone, but for my sleep, my sleep would require a much more powerful weapon. That weapon was Paige. I was so grateful for her touch.
The Switchblade Mamma Page 14
