by Nicole Dykes
Fight
nicole dykes
Contents
Playlist
Prologue
1. Carter
2. Shaw
3. Carter
4. Carter
5. Shaw
6. Shaw
7. Carter
8. Shaw
9. Shaw
10. Shaw
11. Carter
12. Carter
13. Shaw
14. Carter
15. Shaw
16. Carter
17. Carter
18. Shaw
19. Shaw
20. Carter
21. Shaw
22. Carter
23. Carter
24. Shaw
25. Shaw
26. Carter
27. Shaw
28. Carter
29. Shaw
30. Shaw
31. Carter
32. Shaw
33. Carter
34. Shaw
35. Carter
36. Shaw
37. Carter
38. Shaw
39. Shaw
40. Carter
41. Shaw
42. Carter
43. Shaw
44. Carter
45. Shaw
46. Carter
47. Shaw
48. Carter
49. Shaw
50. Carter
51. Shaw
52. Carter
53. Shaw
54. Carter
55. Shaw
56. Shaw
57. Carter
Epilogue
Note From the Author:
Other Works:
Prologue
To anyone who thinks their options are limited or they’re too tired for the battle, please don’t give up. Never stop fighting. You are stronger than you think.
Savage Love
Jawsh 685
Bang!
AJR
Ring of Fire
Wildwood
1435
Selfish Things
My Holding Hand is Empty
Patrick Park
You and Me
Unknown Neighbour
Death Bed (Coffee for Your Head)
Future Sunsets & Jaclyn Glenn
If It Means A Lot To You
A Day To Remember
Lose My Mind (Acoustic)
Dean Lewis
Flowers In Your Hair
The Lumineers
Whore
In This Moment
* Please note I don’t own the rights to any of these songs, I just listened to them while I wrote and feel a strong connection between them and this story! I hope you enjoy Fight! *
5 years old
Oh no. I got my shoes dirty. Mommy is going to be so mad at me.
No. No. No.
“Ew! You’re dirty!” I look up at the three boys surrounding me out on the playground. They aren’t in my kindergarten class. They might be a little older. They are definitely bigger.
“I’m not dirty,” I whine, but look at the purple tennis shoes I got for Christmas. My mommy told me to take care of them. That Santa worked hard for these shoes.
They’re my favorite color. Purple. Now they are covered in mud because I stepped in a mud puddle running to the swings.
I love the swings.
“Yeah huh! You’re dirty!” The boy taunts and I ball my fists at my sides.
“Go away!” I shout. I won’t cry, but I’m angry.
“Dirty girl! Dirty girl!” The boys chant.
Suddenly one of them is shoved and I look over at the boy who did it. He’s in my class.
Carter.
We haven’t talked except he let me use his glue stick yesterday in class. “Get away from her,” Carter growls.
Carter is wearing a worn, red jacket, tattered and dirty, his little fists held up. Is he going to hit these boys?
I hope so.
I just want them all to go away.
He shoves the biggest kid again. “Go. Away.” The boys just shrug and walk away mumbling something under their breaths. Carter shifts his focus to me. “Are you okay?”
I look at his face and offer a small smile. “I’m fine. They made me mad.”
He nods, “Jerks.”
That makes me giggle, but then I look down at my shoes again. Mommy is going to be so mad.
He wraps an arm around my shoulder. “They won’t mess with you anymore. Not when you are my friend.”
I look at him like he’s crazy, but it’s nice to have a friend. “Okay.” And then for whatever reason I lean in and kiss his cold cheek. He flinches and then it’s his turn to think I’m crazy. “Friends. I like it.”
“Come on. Let’s go swing.”
I follow him to the swings, flying high and forgetting about my shoes for a moment, laughing and screaming as my legs kick, and Carter goes even higher than I do.
He’s brave, my new friend.
18 years old
“Come the fuck on, Shaw.” I honk my horn again waiting in my beat up ‘88 Honda Accord with the heat on and just barely warm.
“She’s probably doing her makeup, man. Gettin’ all slutty and shit.” I groan looking in the backseat where Dane’s big ass is slouched, his arm resting against the seat, totally unbothered.
“She’s not slutty.”
He laughs at that. “If she was, do you think I would give a fuck?”
I look out the side window that is fogged over. It’s November in Kansas City. It’s cold as shit and Shaw is taking her sweet time. “I know you wouldn’t.”
We don’t follow rules. We don’t give a flying fuck what society says we should do or shouldn’t do. I lost my virginity when I was fourteen in a back alley. Dane was thirteen. We’re street kids. Hustling, busy trying to keep the lights on, trying to keep food in our bellies. Who the fuck has time for rules?
And who has time to worry about being slutty or not?
Having sex at a young age is the least of our worries. And Shaw, Dane and me, we don’t judge. You steal, lie, cheat, fuck--whether you like the same sex, older than you--we couldn’t care less.
We really only have one rule-- don’t mess with either of the other two.
“But if someone outside of this car said Shaw was lookin’ slutty?” I ask, my voice amused already knowing the answer.
“I’d hang them up by their balls.”
My eyebrow shoots up as I look back at him. “And if it was a chick?”
He doesn’t miss a beat. “Her tits. Whatever.”
I laugh. It’s been this way since day one on the playground when those assholes were giving Shaw shit about dirt on her shoes. Fuck those assholes. I handled them and when we met Dane the next year, we handled anyone that ever dared to mess with Shaw.
Not that she really needs our protection. Shaw can hold her own. I flex my fingers that are starting to turn blue. You shouldn’t be able to see your breath inside your running car, but it’s the best I can afford from odd jobs right now.
Finally, I see Shaw at her front door, pulling it closed and locking it. She has her long black hair pulled up into a messy bun on top of her head and zips up the black puffy coat Dane swiped for her Christmas gift, flipping the hood up over her head.
She’s tiny, but still a force.
She gives off a don’t fuck with me vibe I like to think I taught her, but she had it that first day on the playground. Her jeans are ripped, and her black sneakers are looking rough, but she looks good. The jeans hug her small hips, and she is wearing some makeup today.
Her pouty lips are stained red and her eyes are lined in black. Shaw is effortlessly gorgeous. She yanks open the door and hops in, “Do you have to honk? You know I’m coming.”
I pull away f
rom the shitty, rundown house she lives in with her mom and start toward the shitty, rundown high school we all attend. This is our life.
“If you would hurry your ass up, I wouldn’t honk.”
“Such an asshole,” she singsongs as she tucks her small hands under her ass.
“So what are we doing for your birthday, Shaw?” Dane asks from the backseat.
She’s the last of us to turn eighteen. Legal adult. I’m sure in other high schools in this country that’s a big deal, but here? Fuck, we’ve been adults for so goddamn long it doesn’t feel like anything other than another day working and worrying about how to make it.
Her small shoulders shrug as she looks out the frosted window. “I’m working that night.”
“Fuck that,” Dane says, his cellphone ringing in his pocket. He pulls it out, but doesn’t answer it yet. “It’s your eighteenth. We are doing something.” He answers the phone and Shaw shoots me a worried look when we hear him say, “Yeah, I’ll handle it.”
He’s quietly listening to whoever is on the other side of the phone and Shaw shifts in her seat, the worry never leaving her pretty face.
“I’m on it.” Dane tucks his phone away and then goes right back to harassing Shaw. “We are going out for your birthday. Dinner’s on me.”
Shaw twists to look back at him, “With whose money?”
He chuckles at that, cracking the window and pulling out a pack of cigarettes. He grabs one, lighting it, and I see him take a long drag from the rearview mirror. “Mine.”
“Yours that you made doing what?” Shaw’s voice has a sharp edge. She hates the shit he’s in. So do I, but she gives him a hell of a lot more shit about it than I do. I know, like Dane does, there isn’t much of a choice.
It’s either starve or survive.
Shaw knows that to an extent, but she has a loving mother that tries her damnedest to take care of her. Dane and me, we don’t have that. Not even close.
His mom left when he was just a baby. Mine is unfortunately still around when she needs to eat or dry out. My father is a real piece of shit, who also comes around when he feels like it. The house we rent may be in their names, but I’m the one who pays the landlord. Same with the gas, electric and water.
Dane lives with his dad, who tries I guess, but alcohol got ahold of him a long time ago. He can barely keep a job and even when he does, it all goes to his habit. So, it’s up to Dane to take care of his two little brothers.
At least I don’t have any siblings that I know about.
Dane does though. He has a five-year-old and seven-year-old to take care of. To make sure they have food and heat. And maybe the way he chooses to do that isn’t acceptable by society’s rules, but again, fuck the rules.
“Shaw…” He warns and sucks on the cigarette again, blowing the smoke out the window. “You won’t give a fuck when your belly is full of steak.”
She rolls her eyes and looks out the window. “I don’t want your blood money.”
“No blood had to be shed.” My eyes meet his in the mirror and he shrugs, “yet.”
I shake my head and pull into a spot in the parking lot of the school. I look up at the brick building, one that’s been there since the sixties and could use several upgrades that it will never get. We all climb out, swinging our backpacks over our shoulders.
Dane flicks the cigarette to the pavement, stomping it out with his foot and tugging Shaw to his side. “You gotta stop worrying about me. You’re going to get wrinkles.”
Her cute little nose crinkles at that. “Fuck you, I’m perfect.”
He laughs, his hand resting on her hip as he holds her to him. I sandwich her between us, both of us trying to keep her warm even if she doesn’t realize it.
And we don’t want her to. She’d kick our asses if she knew we were taking care of her.
“You are that, Shaw, but you’re going to be eighteen in three days. It all goes downhill from there.”
I laugh at that as I push open the main door to the school. She jabs him in the side with her pointy elbow and he grunts, but the fucker is laughing. We each file through the metal detector before joining up again.
We walk to Shaw’s locker and she opens it, shoving some books inside. “I don’t want dinner for my birthday. I’d rather have a paycheck.”
I lean against the locker that’s next to hers. “What about after? We’ll pick you up.”
She groans, slipping her coat off, showing the oversized concert tee she’s wearing that I think she stole from my closet. She tugs out the scrunchie that was keeping her hair up, letting her long hair tumble down. “I don’t get off work until eleven.”
“Perfect,” Dane says with a smirk. “We’ll be there.”
She rolls her eyes and slams her locker closed.
Because she knows we will be.
“Welcome to adulthood.” Carter’s deep voice rumbles in the dark night. I look at the flames coming from the rusty old trash barrel in front of us. I’m huddled between Carter and Dean, sipping from a whiskey bottle, leaning up against the brick wall of an old, abandoned building.
I think it was a factory at one time. Someone has their car radio turned up loud and their door open. There are a lot of people from our neighborhood here. Some still in high school like us, some have long graduated or quit.
It doesn’t really matter. Everyone pretty much knows each other around here.
Even though Kansas City is pretty large, our little ‘hood is tight knit.
I lean my head on Carter’s large shoulder. Man, he’s gotten big over the years. It’s surprising considering he doesn’t always know when his next meal will be. Still, he uses the school’s dreadfully ill equipped gym to work out his frustrations and has developed insane muscles from doing so.
He wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer to his warmth. It’s so cold out here. Snow has fallen throughout the day, but no one seems to mind. Everyone is too busy getting lost in the alcohol and whatever other substances they could get their hands on.
Trying like hell to go numb and ignore reality.
I didn’t want to celebrate my birthday, but of course Carter and Dane couldn’t let it go. They were there at the diner I work at from ten till eleven, ready to walk me out. Neither one of them are thrilled about me working so late, but I’m not their dainty little princess they have to take care of.
I carry mace and a knife, knowing damn well how to use both. Not to mention Carter and Dane have schooled me on self-defense since I can remember. I know how to throw a punch, gouge eyes, kick and scream.
I’ll never go down without a fight.
Still, it’s nice that they care about me.
“Yeah, great. Can I go home now? I’m tired.” I take a sip of the whiskey, letting it burn my throat all the way down.
“Jesus fuck, grandma.” Dane takes the bottle from my hand, bringing it to his pink lips that are almost too full and puffy for a guy. Pillow lips. He hates when I point that out. “You’re eighteen, not fucking eighty.”
I groan and Carter chuckles, tugging me closer. “She did go to school today and then work an eight hour shift.”
“You baby her.” Dane hands Carter the bottle. I watch his throat bob as he swallows the liquor. They’re both beautiful men.
Almost painfully so. Almost like they don’t belong here.
Dane has sandy blond hair, cut fairly short. High cheekbones and brown eyes. His body cut and even larger than Carter’s, having used the same gym. It’s like they both think they have to be larger than the life we were handed to protect us all from it.
Carter’s hair is dark, like mine, and longer than Dane’s, tousled in a ‘fuck it’ way. His lips are full, but masculine and a dark natural red. His nose has been broken a few times from stupid fucking fights he can’t seem to stay out of, but it fits him.
They are beautiful, strong and mine.
My best friends in the world.
“Hey, Amanda is looking at you again.” I nudge
Dane and laugh.
She has been trying to get in his pants for years, but as far as I know he hasn’t gone there. He’s not interested…
He scoffs, “No thanks.”
Carter smiles at me, shaking his head and goading him. “I think you should go for it. I heard she won’t make you wear a condom.”
I fake gag and Dane cringes. “Fucking gross. I don’t want my dick to fall off.”
Carter chuckles, taking another swig. “They have penicillin. You’ll be fine.”
I roll my eyes. They’re pretty casual about sex, but we all are. It’s just the way it is. Sex has never been a big deal. But Dane never gives us details of who he fucks.
“You assholes better wrap your dicks. I don’t want to be Auntie Shaw anytime soon.” I smile.
Carter laughs at that. “Always. I’m a fucking boy scout.”
“You don’t have to worry about us, Shaw,” Dane says, his eyes locked on someone out in the sea of people, through the fire. “What about you?” He jerks his eyes away from the crowd and looks at me, “You make ‘em wear a condom?”
