Undercover Badge.

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 8

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The Next Day;

I could hear my foot falls as I kept up to the fast rhythm. The dance studio was totally empty, and I stood in front of the mirror in my blood red sports bra, with my tight black yoga pants, that went to bootlegs at the knee. At the bottom hem on the right leg was a blood red claw mark. I had black pumas, with red stars. My hair was straightened, my fringe in my face. I was bouncing, doing him hop to the fast, hard, angry beat. I gritted my teeth on each step, my twisted ankle protesting by sending heavy shots of pain up my leg and into my nerves system.

I ignored the pain and did a cartwheel, falling into a split.

I lifted myself up and did a classic hip roll, watching my hip bones and my taught lover abdominal muscles working. I'd raised my hands, my left knotting into my hair, my right pulling down the side of my head, trailing down my shoulder and down my chest.

I stepped forward twice fast, with a hand on my bare hip, swaying my hips as I did so, suddenly kicking up my right leg, and when my legs were perfectly strait, I threw back my upper body my arms falling me backwards into a back over arch. I kicked up my legs and slowly rolled the weight across my shoulders, landing again in a split. I lifted myself, doing a fan, and a ballerina split leap, my legs in perfect alignment with the floor. I did an on-point spin. Back-over cart wheel. Saddle jump. I then did two Russian jumps.

I growled at my face in the mirror, taking out my anger.

***

James.

I was taking my moms stuff to sum dance studio. Old dresses and crap. I backed into the doorway, the box in my hands. I could hear speakers belting out Nickelback's Burn It To The Ground.

I dropped the box and looked in the only dance floor that had light. When I did, I saw Katrina moving her body. Seeing her looking like that almost made me drool. A thin sheen of sweat covered her slightly tan skin. She wore a red sports bra and black pants.

I watched as she flipped the front of her body forward and flipped up, flinging her gorgeous hair backward over her head. Her thumb was hooked into the front of her pants, like a cowboy on a belt buckle. I watched her hips twirl deliciously.

She raised onto her right foot and kicked out on her left, making her spin. Suddenly, her foot buckled and she crashed into the dance floor. I wanted to go out and help her, but it looked like she was getting emotion out.

I didn't want any one to interfere when I did.

She lay on her back, clutching her sprained foot, her back arching in pain. I could see her grit her teeth. She pushed up onto her hands and got up with jerky movements. Falling into the last chorus, she redid the spin. Damn.

Kat could move. I could see her lean muscle. She was a dancer. Of course! It explained Kat's grace. The song finished and she folded her legs with a single twist, and sat cross legged on the floor. Her shoulders hunched and she berried her face in her hands. Sighing, I walked out toward my car. I looked longingly back at the studio. I wanted to be inside there, holding her, coaxing her. Letting her know everything would just be all right. But I couldn't.

I drove way.

****

Kat

The previous day:

(Conclusion to end of chapter seven)

He smirked at me. "Hello, Katrina."

He said it so simply. As if, the last time he saw me, he hadn't worked with my mom and abusing and lying to me. I narrowed my eyes, ignoring the sting in my shins from where the exploding glass had cut into my legs.

"Get out." I'd snarled.

"Come on, Kitty. Lets play." he said with a smirk. He grabbed my waist and threw me against a wall. Suddenly, his mouth was on mine, trying to kiss me. I kicked him as hard as physically possible in the cheap shot. His eyes watered and he made a high pitched squeak, falling to the side. I pounced on him, two minutes later, he had a fractured skull, four broken and two cracked ribs, broken fingers, broken nose, and fractured knuckle.

I picked up my cell phone and called my father.

"One of her goons found us." I snapped in greeting.

"Are YOU alright?" he asked.

"I'm fine."

"Is he alright?"

"He will never be able to have children."

"I'll have the police over in a second."

We hung up. I walked over to the goon on the floor, one of my ex-boyfriends, and working for my mother.

I slapped him, and said "You work for the wrong bitch."

I kicked him in the ribs, and felt sadistic pleasure at hearing another two snaps. He began screaming. I went to my bedroom, and drowned out his screams with my ipod.

****

I'd applied thick makeup to hide the bruises from Thursdays fight. My father had let me stay home on Friday to help him with police profiling. It got boring after a while.

Here's the story....

My mother got into some dangerous men after my father. One of which was a gang-lord who took her in an arranged marriage. When he died, she took over the gang.

I really dislike talking about it. Hence why I was so vague before.

Hey. I have my reasons.

I was going over to the dance studio to teach some Latin.

The whole time I was wondering about why my mother would send an adolescent moron to my house. She would have known he wouldn't get the job done.

And why did she want me? I had shunned her and wanted nothing to do with her and her miserable little gang.

Why was this so complicated. She never wanted me as a doughter. She always tried to get rid of me.

Was Alex okay?

Was James okay?

Was Evil Twin rotting in hell?(I hope)

And, most of all; What Am I Gonna Do About It?

Crap. Here comes along day.

*****

I spent two hours beating a bag in gym, and another hour showering. I had nothing to do and no better was to spend my day that throw on boxers, a tee, and lay on my bed, flat on my back, staring at the ceiling. And I did this happily for four hours strait.

Oh, God. What's wrong with me?

Well, my mind replied.

You were shunned as a child, treated like dirt, a divorcee child, moved to small town with your dads new girlfriend (who I STILL haven't met) and your life just sucks.

As I was thinking this, I felt a warm nudge on my ankle. I sat up, and looked at my foot to see Sheila with her forehead against it. "Yea, and you! Some guard dog you are. Where were you when a dumb ass attacker walked in? Oh, no! You got yourself stuck in the pantry." I said in a nasal voice.

She cocked her head at me.

I groaned and fell back onto the covers. A few moments later the bed bounced a bit and I felt a cold nose on my forehead. I reached up and scratched at the fur behind her ear. She barked quietly, but happily, her tail wagging. I narrowed my eyes, and tried to sleep.

***