Lost Again [Revised]

~+~ Three ~+~

Chapter 3 - Tate

Tate winced once again as the ice made contact with the bandaged cut on her cheek. It had only been two years since her last incident with any form of fighting that didn't add a death to her numerous others. Two years, and she's already lost her touch. Fighting was the only thing she had left after them and she let it go too. To think, she used to cause so much damage, and now, she was nothing.

Images flashed through her head of a brown haired girl with face paint masking her. How skilled she was in battle; how natural she appeared in front of the other competitors. Tate wondered if the girl was there and had been there for the same reason as her. She wondered if Cerise too fought for the adrenaline that would pounce through her veins, bringing her to a whole new reality.

Tate fought for the tranquility it provided. It brought a sense of calmness even though she were hanging her life over a thin wire. Fighting was exciting, yet it was relaxing. It calmed her nerves bottling up inside of her. The idea of being in the ring even caused a small laugh to escape her cut lip.

There was nothing better than releasing all of the stress being contained inside of her by fighting someone else. Tate began to think that's why Cerise was there too. Tate noticed her vicious gleam, the power hungry look one has when they're angry; when they're breaking apart with all of the emotions they've been bottling up.

Tate sighed, not understanding why she was dumb enough to actually care about why Cerise fought. She shouldn't start caring, not when she was about to run off again. Caring was for the strong, and being strong was something Tate had given up doing for quite awhile.

A knock interrupted her from her inner thoughts. "Come in," she answered hoarsely, weakly. Great, I'm not only weak in the ring but in my voice too. What a fantastic day this has been. Could I at least be able to talk properly without sounding pathetic? Tate growled inwardly, clearing her throat.

The person who knocked entered the room. Tate looked up to see someone she had never met before. He was a tall man around her age with black curls and sparkling dark brown eyes. His skin was kissed with the Sun's rays; Tate was suddenly intrigued by the stranger. How he held himself so arrogantly, as if he owned the place. It reminded her of Kendrick. However, he wasn't apart of her life. She had pushed him away like everyone else.

Tate felt a sense of familiarity around the man, despite being positive she had never seen the man before. He pointed to the door leading towards the ring, words starting to form in his mouth.

"I saw you out there," he mentioned, glancing at her with concern. Tate hissed through her teeth in embarrassment. She hid her bandaged cheek from him. Of course he did, she thought sourly.

"You did?" She responded quietly.

"You made a stupid move fighting Cerise, Tate. I know you're broken but you didn't have to do that." Tate raised her eyebrow in question, wondering how the man knew her. He stepped forward, moving closer to the edge of the bed and sitting down. "What were you thinking before you challenged her? You could've gotten yourself killed," he questioned, his eyes gleaming with a cold, emotionless tone to the point where Tate had goosebumps running down her arms and legs.

She used to be like that, cold and emotionless. However, she had been beaten by the people she loved even though she pushed them away before they could help her. Now, she lost that ability, showing all of her emotions resting on her sleeve.

"I don't have to tell you. I don't even know you," she retorted stubbornly. His eyes filled with hurt before they turned back to being emotionless. She bit back another reply along the lines of 'You're not my mother.'