"Kayla! Kayla! Kayla!" The crowd called my name as I smashed my fist into her face. They cheered again as my other hand connected with the girl's stomach. The shouting got louder as she stumbled. I took the opportunity of her weakness to pounce on her.
I straddled her and she yelled in defiance, trying to hit me. But her punches were weak.
"You can do better than that," I told her, smirking. She glared at me from behind a thin film of tears. "Bitch," she hissed.
I rolled my eyes at her and she spat at me.
Personally, I didn't mind, but the crowd started throwing insults at her. Offending their star fighter was a capital crime.
In return for the spit splattered on my cheek, I sent another punch to her abdomen. She gasped as the wind got knocked out of her. Seizing the opportunity with her guard down, I rained her with blows -- her nose, eye, stomach, chest, neck and everywhere else possible.
She made a feeble attempt to block the assault with her arms, but the pain was too much. Her arms went limp and before our eyes, she blacked out.
I stood up and gave the body a light kick. There was no sign of her still conscious. That was fast.
People moved in to remove the body as the announcer climbed into the ring and lifted my arm up in a sign of victory. "Kayla Michaels!" In response, the crowd went wild.
They chanted my name and it felt like heaven to my ears. Even as I exited the ring, the calls of my name echoed in my head.
Girls glared openly at me as guys tried to get my attention. I was the star of the night. Everyone wanted to get close to me.
Vendetta smiled at me as I walked through the black curtains to something like a backstage, and towards her. "You did awesome." She proceeded to hug me when she stopped and wrinkled her nose in disgust. "You stink!"
I gave her the 'duh' look and she pushed me towards the shower room. "Go take a bath. You smell worse than a dead skunk."
I lunged playfully at her and she yelped as she stepped back and fell on her butt. I pretended to lose my footing and fell on top of her.
She squeaked in surprise and tried to shove me off.
"Get off!" She grunted, attempting to lift me off her but stopped when I started tickling her. She squealed, and giggled, so unlike her usual badass self. "Stop!" She gasped breathlessly. "Stop!" I made her beg a little more before standing up, laughing. She scowled at me after catching her breath. "Now you've spread your stinkiness to me."
I shook my head and chuckled. "There is no such word as 'stinkiness'," I informed her. "Yeah, whatever." She stuck out her tongue at me.
"Admit it. You suck." I jabbed her in her side, grinning.
She jerked away from me. "Just because you're my best friend, it doesn't mean I won't kill you." Then she proceeded to hit me upside the head. Since I was expecting that, I ducked. "See if you can catch me!" I ran down the corridor laughing and she followed, yelling, "You're so dead Michaels!"
I smiled to myself. She wouldn't be able to 'kill' me even if she could catch me. But it'd be amusing to see her try.
The hot water beat down on my bare back. I tilted my head back and let the it engulf me. In the silence of the shower room with only the sound of running water, it was peaceful. It felt like warmth. So close to love, care -- My eyes snapped open in the realisation of those unconscious thoughts. The water stung them so I shut it off. Without the absence of the warmth of the water, cold seeped in, as quiet and subtle as death. But its effects were not subtle.
