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Thorn: Age 13
“You going to try out for summer league basketball?” a kid named Brett asks me.
He’s trying to make conversation, and to be honest, I kind of like him, consider him a friend. But I know when we move again, Brett and I will lose touch. It’s better not to get close to others.
“I don’t know.” I shrug as I take my tray to dump it before heading to my next class.
I’m in junior high now. School can be fun, though we move around a lot. Briar thinks our parents are looking for us. I doubt they are; it’s not like we brought in money or anything. According to the monsters, we cost them money. Whatever.
We stole money and a car. With their drug use, I’m sure they didn’t file a police report. They’ll figure a way to make up for the loss, and I’m sure they’re glad to be rid of us in some ways. They probably miss their punching bags, though.
“Think about it,” Brett says as he runs off to his own class.
I want to do sports, not just MMA. I want friends, but it’s not in the cards for me just yet. I did make a deal with Briar. Okay, I didn’t make a deal. She basically told me the deal. I stay in school and graduate, and then I can join a gym. She said she would pay my gym membership as long as I graduated. I would be eighteen then and wouldn’t need her permission, but after all that she’s been through for me, I take her word as gospel, and I respect it.
I like being in school and being normal. Briar works hard to give me everything I need. The night we ran, we got about two hours out of town and had to stop. She couldn’t go any further. We holed up in a little motel, one that didn’t ask for ID or question ages, and I nursed her back to health. She was pretty beat up and didn’t get out of bed for a couple of days. I had to help her in and out of the shower. She was embarrassed about me helping her, seeing her like that. I only cared that she would get better.
The town we had stopped in first had a department store and a grocery store. So while she rested, I ran across the street for clothes and a few groceries as well as things to help her get better, things to add to my first aid kit. I couldn’t drive there, and it was only across the street. I have two hands and can carry bags. I wasn’t that puny.
It was enough to get us through to our next stop. We’ve been gone for three years now and we never heard from Lennon again. Though he wouldn’t know we were gone unless he came back for us, I doubt that he did…asshole. Briar misses him and that breaks my heart. I will not admit it to her, but I miss him too. But I can’t forgive him for leaving us so soon and not taking us with him or coming back for us.
We’ve been in Louisiana for about a year. It’s New Orleans, so it’s not a bad spot. I love running around the swamps looking for gators, though it gives Briar a heart attack each time I go out doing it. I laugh it off, telling her I’m not really catching them. One guy down the way did help me catch one and then taught me how to skin it. He let me take the meat home to cook. It was good eating, and I didn’t tell her I caught it.
Briar works on Bourbon Street at some bar as a waitress with a fake ID, brings home good tips, and tries to save every penny after rent and food. I know she wants to put more space between us and those monsters, but she also doesn’t want me to miss school. It’s almost the end of the year, and I know we’ll be moving on, not that I mind. I’m keeping up my end of the bargain by studying hard so I can graduate. The deal about me fighting starts with that degree, and since Briar never got a chance to go to school, I’m going to let her live through me.
I’m also holding myself to the dream I had many years ago, becoming an MMA fighter.
I’ll make it someday. I know I will.
Lennon: Age 21
Some twenty-first birthday. It’s raining, and there is hardly any shelter in this alley. I’m depressed and angry. I just had to kick some guy’s ass since he tried to take the little bit of food I have. I don’t know what I’m going to do.
I’m angry because I wouldn’t have been able to take care of Briar even if I wanted to. This is no life for her. I’m angry at my father. I was given a warning, but I’ve heard from sources back home that he’s looking for me. He wants to get even. One day he will come for me, but I’ll be ready, stronger and faster than him. I was his meal ticket for every fucked-up reason, and now he doesn’t have me doing the disgusting work for him to get his fix. Fuck him.
And fuck this asshole who runs this gym. I asked if I could use the equipment for free if I do a little work, but that uppity asshole sneered at me and shoved me out the door. And yet, I still stay in this alley because it’s safer than under a bridge. I even made a makeshift punching bag behind my dumpster. The other day I was using it when some guy from the gym watched me. He corrected my form, but that’s all he said to me. It was like he looked down his nose at me. Fuck that dude. Fuck everyone.
“Fuck him,” I say as I shove myself up from the dirty ground, pulling out the knife I carry. I walk up to the backdoor of the gym and start to pry open the door. If I get caught, oh well, at least in jail I’ll be dry. Jail for breaking and entering might suck, but it would be so worth it.
I jimmy the door open and pull it toward me, hoping it doesn’t make a sound. I don’t think anyone is in here, it’s past closing time and super dark outside, so I think I’m good.
I step over the threshold and close the door behind me. The place is huge and has top-of-the-line equipment. From the center of the ceiling hangs a banner reading ‘Kingston Storm, MMA Champion’. I’ve heard of him. It was that asshole who shoved me out the door. I’ll take him on one day and show him that I’m not to be fucked with, though it’s kind of hard to make that kind of threat since I can’t even stay on my feet sometimes.
I go to the locker room and strip down, finding soap in the closet. A shower would be so nice right now. I make sure the water is scalding hot as I wash away months of grime from my body. I stay under until the water runs clear again. I hate to put on my dirty clothes again, but I don’t have a choice. I dress and toss the soap in the trash before walking out to the cage in the center of the gym. I run my fingers along the side, imagining what it would be like to have people cheering for me, to have them chanting my name as I raise my gloves in victory.
“What the fuck?” I hear from behind me. Oh shit, I’ve been caught.
I turn to see said asshole, Kingston Storm, staring at me, and I freeze.
“I’m going to call the cops, stay put,” he growls and that gets me moving.
“Please don’t do that,” I say, trying to move. I’ve been cramped up behind that dumpster and have eaten little food. I can feel how weak I am.
I stumble forward and fall at his feet.
“Dude,” he says, and his eyes go wide.
“Please don’t call the cops,” I whisper, feeling so small.
“Tell me why I shouldn’t,” he snaps.
“I’m begging you,” I plead with him.
“Tell you what. Let’s walk to the diner, I’ll buy you a meal, and we can talk. You can tell me why I shouldn’t call the cops,” he says, yanking me off the floor.
“Thank you,” I say as my stomach rumbles.
“Come on,” he says. I follow him, feeling like I’m at my lowest, but I will at least get a meal
