Chapter one- A game of cat and mouse
Beads of sweat dotted my eyebrow and my white tank top was beginning to stick to my body from the perspiration. My unruly black hair was flapping in the wind behind me as I ran as fast as I could, reminding me that I should have grabbed my hair bands from my drawer.
They had kicked down my door with hardly any effort only allowing me to grab my emergency backpack and a wad of cash that was stuffed in between my lumpy mattress for cases just like this. I had just enough time to pry open and climb through my small window, scrambling for the fire escape.
No time to dwell Reagan, I thought bitterly, angry that I couldn’t say goodbye to Mr. and Mrs. Parkinson. The elderly couple who gave me a home to stay in. A fugitive charged with murder and a $2 000 reward if found and brought to the nearest police station.
Not that I murdered any one, but nobody would believe me. I was the loser that nobody talked to and that took extra credit subjects just to get an early acceptance to one of the greatest universities of this state. I forfeited my social life just so I could get out of my miserable excuse of a home.
The reason is? My parents stopped worrying about me when my older brother Tyler had died in a car crash on the night of his nineteenth birthday; he was six years older than me and my hero. At the tender age of thirteen I had hoped my parents would have been there for me but to my dismay instead of comforting their child they chose to turn to alcohol.
My survival instincts had kicked in and I raised myself. I created barriers around myself so no one could get close to me, not emotionally anyway.
A year after my brother’s death my parents realised what they were doing was incredibly stupid, they knew my brother wouldn’t want them to drink their lives away when they still had me to look after.
By that time it was too late to comfort me, I distanced myself from them. They knew it and didn’t even bother to try and connect with me again. I started taking kick boxing lessons just five months after my brothers’ death to get rid of extra frustrations from school and my home life.
By the time I was sixteen I was doing under ground street fighting and was a champion in the arena. No one could touch me. I was nicknamed ‘Scorpio’ due to my swift attacks no one saw coming. I didn’t mind the name since they didn’t know who I was and I wanted it to stay that way.
Sarah and Michael -as I now refer to them as - threw themselves into their work. Day and day again they were in the office working; trying and get the thought of their lost son out of their heads.
They had left their law firm to open up one of their own naming it Tyler’s Law.
A year later they became one of the highest ranking law firms in the United States. In some ways I felt sorry for them; because for them, the law firm was their new son.
At seventeen I needed a new challenge; I started doing fight dancing –as I oh so love to call it. The way I figured it was a two in one thing; learn to fight and learn to dance as a bonus.
After just five months I started fighting for money when I mastered the skill and was lucky enough to find my first friend the night I collected my winnings.
He was my first fight and was one of the best male fighters there I was told. But I was ready for the so called ‘Mr. Awesome’. I never understood how he could be so conceited and arrogant all while I was kicking his ass.
After I collected my one thousand dollar winning I found out his name was Jason Lock. It was pretty ironic we soon realised as my surname was Chambers.
“Do you have my Lock to your Chambers” he had asked me until I answered him. I still don’t understand that question to this day. We became inseparable after that, but our relationship was completely platonic though; as he was gay.
How he kept that a well hidden secret was beyond me. How could I not know that my friend of one and a half years was gay?
He looked like a typical straight guy I would have known in high school. He even flirted with other girls, but never with me as I made it known I’m strictly off limits.
It was by luck I had found out when I had walked in on him and a cute guy making out. He looked adorable all flustered and shocked that he couldn’t form coherent sentences. All I did was walk up to him and slap him, “'Why didn’t you tell me you douche?” I had demanded.
Before he could answer though I hugged him and smiled at the sheepish cute guy that had stolen my best friends’ heart. We kept it a secret at first but he came out about a month later as he was thinking about leaving the fighting business and wanted start a whole new life with Mark at his side.
I couldn’t understand him at the time and still don’t. Fighting is a part of me, it’s the only thing that kept me sane all those years and I wouldn’t be able to part with it. How he could give it up to work at a desk job is beyond me.
I check behind me to see if anyone was following, I see a figure walking out into the street as though looking for something. Or someone. Well Reagan, I smirked, it’s a game of cat and mouse. But who is the mouse exactly?
I slowed down and pressed my back against a building wall praying the moon wouldn’t choose that moment to shine out from the clouds. It didn’t, so I was completely enshrouded in darkness.
A great time to be playing Cat and Mouse, I smile.
I crouched down and picked up four nicely sized rocks keeping an eye on Mr. Henchman who was drawing closer.
At about two hundred and fifty kilos and pretty short for his age, 4’7 the henchman looked like a walking, talking elf that would steal Santa’s cookies for himself. At the image of him in Santa’s factory wearing elf shoes and singing Christmas carols, I let out a snort of laughter.
Focus! I reprimanded myself; this is not the time for your wondering brain. I pushed myself against the wall as if I could meld into it, I briefly feel a tingling along my body but bump it of as the wind. I take in a deep breath of air knowing I’ll need it as the man drew closer.
I briefly wondered where the rest were but quickly banished the thought as he was almost here; I closed my eyes and waited. I felt the moment he stopped walking. Opening my eyes I looked at the man who, if I didn’t do anything, would take me to his leader.
A brief memory of Jason saying ‘Take me to your leader you fiend!’ in a weirdly mixed accent of Arnold Schwarzenegger and a brain washed zombie made me close my eyes and smile sadly. I miss that idiotic fairy; I grin and open my eyes. I would have the element of surprise, but where’s the fun in that?
*picture of Reagan to the side, who is played by Ariana Grande ^^, i know it seems boring at the moment but stick with it and you wont be dissapointed! :D*
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Street fighter? Yes. Witch? Maybe.
FantasyLosing her brother at 13 was not an easy thing for Reagan to go through. Getting into a fighting ring was the way she releaved stress. Kicking ass and taking money became her way of income. And getting blamed for a murder she didnt commit was the w...
