Creatures

THIRTY-TWO

I guess he didn't plan for a fair fight. Chrissy thought.

That's okay, because she didn't plan for one either.

"Don't play a coward now!" She shouted.

He shot her a look and continued talking urgently and quietly. Finally, he turned and stepped into the ring. He spat on the ground, approaching his spot.

The bell rung.

Chrissy took a few steps forward while James charged her.

*

A little boy, maybe four, was playing with a ratty patchwork bear on the floor of his parents' apartment. His mother was beside him, using a metal washboard. She had a good stack of clothes beside her, and the ironing board set up.

Her hair was falling out of it's updo, into her face.

The little boy could hear yelling and traffic from outside the small apartment.

The mother checked an old leather watch on her wrist. "James, it's time for bed."

He quickly stood, clutching his bear.

"Go." She ordered.

The little boy changed and got ready for bed, crawling under his covers. It took a long time with all the light and the noise, but he finally drifted off.

A noise woke him early in the morning. He kept his eyes closed and listened. He heard concern, and arguing. Groans of pain.

He opened his eyes, hearing more quiet voices, panic. More groans of agony. Silently, James slipped from his bed. He crawled across the floor, and peeked into the next room.

His father was curled up on the carpet where James had been playing earlier.

His young eyes couldn't comprehend what he was seeing. It was just all red and blood and black.

That image was burned into James's mind forever. He learned later in life that his father had tried to get into a lykan pack, claiming he was full blooded, rather than turned. He'd gotten a large tattoo on his back to help further his fraud. They'd burned the tattoo off, permanently branding him. Being a part of a pack would have guaranteed him a job and a home. Less than a month later, they had to move out of the tenement to the outer city Hoovervilles. James slept on a dirt floor well into his teens, surrounded by scrap metal.

That image burned into his mind as he ran.

*

James launched himself at Christine. She was little, he could defeat her with sheer strength.

But the little girl was stronger than he thought. She blocked his fists, barely moving an inch. It felt like striking a boulder. She got enough leverage to kick him in the stomach, sending him back.

It felt like a fire was burning in her chest. She swung and swung and hit her mark again and again. He never landed a punch to her body. She felt his bones crack against her knuckles. She took steps forward while he took steps back.

All she could see was Tristan's scared, pained expression, his bruised face, the burn marks on his hands, on his chest. Her aim was to kill him, nothing less. Nothing hurt. He could strike all he wanted but he would never hurt her family again.

She couldn't hear anything besides the blood in her ears and the chanting in her head.

I've. Lost. Too. Much. I've. Seen. Too. Much. You. Will. Not. Take. This. From. ME!

Blood covered the dirt, mixing with it. She was furious. How dare you hurt him? How dare you take this from me?

"Who gave you the right?!"

She hadn't even noticed that she was kneeling over him, ruthlessly sending her fists into his face over and over. Blood stained the white wraps around her hands, coating her fingers.

I've lost too much. I've seen too much. You. Will. Not. Take. This. From. Me.

She didn't want him even recognizable.

Something escaped his mouth, along with more blood.

The bell rang.

"Christine Heroux has won the title of queen."

She was still kneeling on his chest, heaving in breaths. She took her knee off of his sternum, noticing it was caved in.

He didn't draw breath.

She stared emotionlessly down at his body. It looked more like a brutalized bloody pulp.

Chrissy stood over him for several more moments before she realized he wasn't going to draw another breath. One of his eyes still stared at her. Crouching, she took her first and middle finger over his eyes, closing them. She rose and turned, using her teeth to rip up the edge of the tape on her hands. She unwound it, returning back to her side of the ring.

She got close enough to Tristan, and broke into a run, throwing her arms around his neck and sinking into his warmth and embrace.

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Sorry for the short chapter, but I thought it was a good stopping point for this one.