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“You been prospect a while now, right?” he keeps pushing.
“Yeah,” I answer brashly. I ain’t in the mood for a heart to fuckin’ heart.
“Bet you’re ready to wear that cut, huh?”
I hit the pad harder. I don't need a reminder of how close I am to getting what I want, it onlyreminds me how close I am to fuckin' it all up.
“Yeah,” I give him another one-worded answer that’s full of attitude.
“I see how bad you want it,” he goads. “You got a fuckin’ flair in ya that fuckin’ screams it. You wanna tell me why you want in so bad, Nyx?”
I shrug before landing a solid punch into the pad, forcing him to take another step backward.
“Come on, tell me. I wanna know what drives your determination to fucking be here,” he yells at me, and it’s clear he’s intentionally trying to aggravate me. It’s working too. My blood is already scorching beneath my skin. “Come on, fuckin’ tell me,” he shouts, the veins in his neck standing out and his eyes deadly serious.I slam the pads so hard that my heart rate overtakes my ears. “Say it. Tell me why you want to be part of this club.” I keep hitting until my fists become too heavy to hold up.
“Why do you fuckin’ need in so bad?” he asks again, and I finally drop my guard.
“Because I got to fuckin’ belong somewhere,” I scream back at him, shoving all my weight into the pad he’s holding. This time he’s ready for it and he stands firm. I’m breathless and fucking furious that the fucker in front of me shares nothing of himself with anyone and he’s somehow managed to get a weakness out of me.
Years of being passed from one foster home to another, never knowing my parents or having a family made me feel worthless. And if I don’t have a place in this fucking world. If I don’t belong, what’s the purpose of existing in it?
That Dirty Soul who came to my foster home is the only clue I ever got into the life I should have had. Whoever he was, he gave me a purpose that day, he gave me a place to exist.
He’ll probably never know it but he saved me. I stopped being a victim because of him.
I belong here, I feel it in my fucking blood.
“Well, you need to keep that in mind while you’re dealing with whatever shit fuck you got goin’ on beyond this compound.” Brax drops the pad to the floor, picks up his white tee from the bench, and pulls it over his sweat covered torso. Then snatching up his leather cut, he makes for the door out of here.
“Hey Brax,” I call out after him, I’m curious, he must have something keeping him here too, as a nomad, he chose not to belong anywhere, so why here, why now?
I’m surprised when he stops to look over his shoulder at me.
“What about you, why do you wear the cut?”
He stares at me long and hard before he speaks. I get the feeling he’s either never been asked the question before, or he’s spent a real long time avoiding answering it.
One word comes out of his mouth, sharp and unforgivingly before he turns back around and marches out.
“Vengeance.”
I hate it when I come down the stairs and everyone is acting like today is a normal day. Mom, despite having a huge shiner on the side of her face, is sitting at the table wearing a wide phony smile and Dad is reading the newspaper. Penelope is the only one who contributes any normality to the situation, by offering me a sympathetic smile as she passes me my breakfast.
“Morning sweetheart,” Mom chirps at me, and a newly formed irritation for her begins to root inside me. She could have taken us away from all of this years ago, but she made the decision to stay. And for as long as she’s happy to ignore the fact Father is psychotic, I’m expected to go along with the whole charade too.
“Morning Mother.” I know she hates it when I call her mother, and it brings me a tiny pleasure to know she will have to make her smile a little more fake than it already is. I finish up breakfast and throw my bag over my shoulder, desperate to leave and get to school.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Father doesn’t raise his head from the paper when he speaks but just his voice stirs unease in my chest.
“School,” I reply sharply.
“I’ll be taking you to and from school from now on,” he informs me. I feel the dread creep its way onto my face and I’m pleased he isn’t looking up, because I wouldn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing it there.
“But…”
“No buts, Ella. You’re grounded. I think you’ve gotten off lightly for your behavior, don’t you?” his eyes lift from the paper, and when they gesture to Mom’s swollen face it takes every strength inside me not to launch at him and gauge them out of their sockets.
Our journey to school is silent. My skin itches the entire way and I flinch every time his hand moves. I feel like I could throw up and I’ve never been more grateful to get to school when we finally arrive. I need to escape this stuffy car, it smells so strongly of air freshener that I can taste it on the back of my throat. I move to open the door, and he grabs at my knee, his fingers digging into my flesh and making me freeze.
