Pretty Little Fighter Girl

Chapter 1-MY LIFE

Rusty chains cut into my pale wrists as I swayed slightly from the ceiling above, my toes subtlety brushing against the dark floor.

The cuts and bruises coloring my skin are a darkened shade of purple, which only existed because of my kidnapper.

This was probably my fault.

I shouldn't have been out alone that late. I thought back to the party lights and cheerful laughter.

This was definitely my fault...

It's been a week from that first night and nothing has gone well.

I heard the door slam open as he walked down the stairs. My kidnapper was probably in his twenties from my guess. I could smell the scent of alcohol on his breath before he was even a few feet away from me.

I clattered to the ground in a weakened heap as he quickly unhooked the rusty chains. His rough hands pull me towards the corner of the room and he pulls the silver knife from his pocket.

Fear swam in my eyes as I watched his hands grow closer.

He has done this every night. He added another deep and painful gash along the other six. Every gash represented a day. My kidnapper loved the sight of blood. Especially when the blood wasn't his own.

I had no sense of time except for this daily routine. The basement was dark, and sunlight barely shone through the window. The stench of dried blood and mildew filled the room, creating a constant nauseous feeling that lingered in the back of my mind.

After I had managed to bare the pain from the deep gash, he had cleaned the silver knife and faced me once more.

Those dark eyes of his bore into mine and I knew what came next. My heartbeat began to accelerate and all I could feel was my ascending fear. I feared him and he knew it. I was completely helpless. Fear always gives you away.

He lifted me up from the rough floor and reconnected the chains around my wrists. I held my breath, closing my eyes in anticipation of what would follow.

   His fists then met my face only seconds later, jolting my head backwards in a swift motion. He continually struck my weak form until I slumped forward, the chains supporting my weight. I could feel the bruises and cuts building up on my skin. My muscles ached beneath my skin.

The pain was the only thing stronger than my fear.

   After his fists slowed, he smiled. His smile leaked true happiness and caused more fear for me than his fists had originally caused. His hand caressed my bruised and tear stained face.

   "You're beautiful now, my Celeste. "

His breath felt warm in the surrounding air. He hasn't gotten this close all week. He normally leaves after he finishes the physical pain.

"My precious work of art..."

   His bottom lip grazed the side of my face as he whispered in my ear. I shuttered, not having the strength to resist. My eyes closed and I tensed, hoping he would back away. I had no fight remaining after this week of torture.

Then something extraordinary happened.

His phone rang causing him to curse. He soon answered it, leaving the room within seconds. I released my breath and opened my eyes, listening carefully.

From downstairs I could hear him yelling at someone through the phone upstairs.

The chains holding me up, groaned under my weight. An idea filled my mind and I strained the muscles in my legs, standing. The chains felt weaker.

I hopped into the air, tucking my knees under me. My weight fell hard against the chains and they whined in protest. I repeated the procedure three times before they snapped.

   The rusty chain-link had actually snapped.

I had never been more thankful for something to happen in my entire life. I swiftly climbed a makeshift ladder of crates and boards, smashing open one of the basement windows near the roof. My thin form fit through the window perfectly and only received minor cuts from the shattered glass.

   My kidnapper heard the window shatter and the phone audibly clattered against the ground. The steps to the basement creaked as his footsteps fell heavily upon them.

He stormed into the basement and slammed his foot against the ground muttering a few curses. He then rushed upstairs in an attempt to chase me as I stormed off his yard. I crossed the street to his neighbor, who I know would be able to help me.

I could still hear his cold voice as he stopped in his yard. The voice that still haunts me today.

"You can't run forever Celeste! I always come back for what belongs to me!"

-

I shook out of my violent nightmare, shivering.

I have these every night.

I got into fighting in order to be ready if I ever happen to come across him again. I was lucky that this had happened during the summertime and everything in school that year had been close to normal. Well, nothing has been normal after my kidnapping.

I was a senior and would graduate this year. I didn't need people to know about my fighting. I also didn't want the sympathy for my horrible experience.

I had become the shy "quiet" person who remains in the back of the room ever since this had happened. I quit talking to everyone unless I needed to and hoped that no one would suspect a thing. I just wanted to blend in and forget about my kidnapping. The nightmares remind me enough of that horrific week.

I had begun training nearly everyday and I fought in hidden venues on Fridays to improve my self defense.

Most opponents I fight are usually men who don't suspect that they are fighting a female, until I pull the hood off of my head and continue to throw punches at them. Some fights I can easily win, just because my opponents often refuse to fight a female. Some even choose to laugh in my face, thinking that I am some sort of a joke. If only they knew what kind of circumstances I had faced before.

Only after they know that I'm completely serious, some will attempt to continue the fight. It gets annoying after a while, facing people who refuse to fight. My trainer, Jason, helps match me up with serious fighters. They don't back down and give me an even fight.

I need real fights in order to improve and be ready if the day ever comes that I will face him again.

I couldn't mend my past.

  I'm just trying to prepare for my future or repair my life, while keeping the secrets hidden about the terrors of my very own experiences.

I couldn't help it...

I'm a fighter.

A fighter girl.

I couldn't change that, even if I tried.

-

Hello readers who may have stumbled across my story!

What do you think about the first chapter... A bit gruesome eh?

I intend to build onto this story and it should get better throughout the chapters.

Feel free to vote or comment, your support will help give me the motivation to write.

This story has been gradually going through some editing so the next few chapters may be unedited or may contain a small hole compared to others, I apologize for errors. They will eventually be fixed.

Thanks for reading!!!