The Numbers on Her Wrist

2

It is the last fight of the night.

I step in an imperfect circle with the man across from me, both my fists and his held tightly to our faces. His nose is bleeding, but he does not move to wipe it away, his stare trained on my movements. We are almost equally matched, but he has the slightest of advantages; he is a foot taller. I'm smaller than him, but I'm quicker on my feet.

Even though he looks tired, I feel tired.

He takes a step forward and I step back, allowing him to advance a few more times. By the time he makes his mistake, I'm close enough to the crowd that I feel a man's breath on my neck. Then, his mistake; his hands drop for a mere millisecond.

I take my only chance. I swing my right fist towards him, a swift uppercut enough to sending him falling backwards. He must be as tired as he looks; he lies still, barely breathing. The shouts are silenced for the moment as a man, who is calling the wins and loses, walks to my opponent and leans close to his ear, whispering if he can get up.

The fallen man only waves a limp arm, gasping out, "Red wins."

I smile and my scabbed fist is grabbed and held high.

"Another win for Miss Reyes!"

Screams and shouts tear through the warehouse's walls and roof, men stomping their feet and yelling their victories. Money is exchanged between the spectators as my opponent is carried away, a half-stifled groan escaping his lips.

As a man approaches me, I retrieve my coat and satchel from the floor, opening the latter to allow him to pour the money inside; the bag is already bulging at the seams. I smile my thanks to him and fade into the crowd, a dozen or so wandering to the table in the back that serves drinks.

I make my way across the room and towards the back door, hoping to be the first one out; if the police do show up, it's always the last ones who get caught.

"Nice fighting."

I reach the rear exit and turn around to see a man in black pants and a gray hoodie standing a few feet away. His shoulder rests against the wall. I nod my thanks, gesturing to both my side and stomach, then flicking my red hair away from a cut on my cheekbone. "They put up a good fight, too."

He chuckles, moving closer to me, and I get a better look at him. His eyes are dark and his skin is pale, the hair on his head the color of ravens. He is thin and tall, but I can see the muscles on his upper arms cause his coat to fit snugly there.

He is handsome.

I clear my throat.

He speaks again. "Where did you learn to fight like that? You seemed to know when and where they were going to hit you and you could easily maneuver around their advances. You took down men triple your size." I tilt my head, his voice not holding the usual awe that the others, who meet me after a fight, have. His tone is filled with genuine curiosity.

But this subject isn't something I would reveal to a stranger.

This isn't something I would reveal to the closest friend.

"I had a teacher, just like everyone else here." I begin to move away, zipping my jacket up and pulling on the strap of my satchel, but he steps in front of me, his long black hair flopping over his right eye. "I didn't have a teacher."

I smirk, shifting my weight to one leg, and shake my head at him. "Am I supposed to be attracted to you because of that?" The stranger grins wider, winking at me. "Sort of." I scoff and roll my eyes, "I don't even know your name. How could I like you?"

"Samuel." He holds out a hand, "Samuel Hicks, but just Sam to my friends."

I take his hand warily, shaking it firmly. "Amelia Reyes... Am I a friend?"

A roguish look appears in his eyes. "Would you like to be?" I open my mouth to respond, a snide remark on the edge of my lips, but I'm interrupted. Actually, I'm interrupted three times.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

The door, that I entered through almost four hours ago, is pounded on from the outside. The clatter and din from the crowd begins to subside at the knocking, but the sounds in the small warehouse continue- at a lower tone. Then, the door is banged again, ten times over.

It becomes silent, the only sound now coming from the door.

I notice Samuel furrow his brow, his fingers grabbing mine. "We should go," he whispers, brushing my shoulder as he walks us to the door. I pull my hand away, "I can follow just find without you holding my hand!" I say quietly.

As he pulls the door open, the other one is broken down, ten policemen promptly hurrying inside, many more following. "Come on!" Samuel yells, grabbing my arm this time and prying me outside and into a run. The sounds of blue collars yelling and street fighters screaming as they scramble to get away fills my ears.

He leads me around a large shipping container, around two dozen police cars with glaring lights surrounding the warehouse we were in only moments before. As the men race to escape, many are brought down my tasers, and other brought down by the police.

Almost twenty people are caught.

"Come on, we need to go!" Samuel pulls me within the shadows, away from the sights of the city's protectors. I run with him to the metal fence, raising my eyebrows as I see a small section of the bottom of the wire cut out to allow a person to slip through.

"Really? Can you not climb?"

He slides under, dust and dirt sticking to the back of his jacket as he stands back up, taking the fence and lifting it higher as I crawl through. "I can climb just fine. I don't care for heights, though."

I smile and begin to run towards the city, where my apartment is.

Samuel follows.

"Where do you think you're going?" I ask, halting as we reach an alleyway not far from the warehouse. He smiles, "To my place. We just happen to live in the same direction, I guess."

I shake my head, "No way. You aren't running with me, boy. There's police swarming around here. It's hard enough going alone, but two people dressed in what we are wearing and carrying wads of cash... Tell me that doesn't scream street fighter."

Samuel chuckles, "Alright. I'll go the long way... You going to the next street fight?"

I begin to jog, "Why do you care?"

"Cause I might want to see you again!"

I roll my eyes and pick up the pace, "I don't even know you, Samuel! Stop flirting with me!" I hear him laugh again and his footsteps fade into the opposite direction.

A/N Hey guys! Thanks for reading! I would love it if you could vote, comment and share! I'll try and update 1-3 times a week, depending on my homework and school schedule!

Again, thanks so much for reading/ even clicking on my little story!

And Happy New Year!!!!