The Scars on Her Back (Prequel to The Numbers on Her Wrist)

21

A/N I am so so so late! I am so sorry! Writer's block coupled with a long trip to Georgia to visit my sister and her husband (and back!), I just couldn't get the chapter finished. I hope you enjoy and I will try to update again soon. Love you all! 😘☺️☺️❤️

"Have you seen 571?" I ask 521 as I lean against him heavily, nursing what I suspect to be a broken rib. We weave through the congregation and I wipe my arm across my face to clean away some of the blood that is dripping from the several scrapes on my cheeks and forehead.

I don't care about my injuries though; I won.

521 shakes his head and shifts slightly so he can reposition his hold on me, wrapping my arm around his shoulders and placing his hand against the small of my back for further support. "No... I lost track of her during your fight. Although, before you panic, I should mention that I'm pretty sure I saw 590 standing with her, so she should be just fine." He takes a deep breath and dodges us around another approaching crowd. When we reach the edge of the building, we stop. "I'm actually more worried about 514." I look up in surprise as he explains. "I haven't seen him since my go in the ring."

I grunt softly as he releases his hold on me and I slide to the ground, sitting crisscrossed in front of him. I accept my satchel from him with a smile. "Do you mind going and looking for them? Including 590? I just want to make sure they are alright."

521 pulls out a half-drank water bottle from out of his bag after he sees me search through mine unsuccessfully; I accept it with another small grin of gratitude.

"Yeah, I don't mind." He gestures to me loosely. "Don't move around too much- if you plan on going more times tonight, then you need to rest that side as much as you can... I will help you wrap it with something later on. I'll be back when I find them." I nod to him and he turns away, heading off to look for the others.

I watch the current fight without much interest. The two men are the stereotypical street fighters- tall, built broad, and decorated with an array of tattoos. Each of them is of average skill, neither of them paying much attention to their form; by the time one of them gets the upper hand, I have already seen three weaknesses that I could have used to win already. The brawl continues for a few long minutes, the offensive side trading every once in a while, before one of them finally throws a good hit and knocks the other unconscious.

Even with all my experience in the ring, I wouldn't have been able to call that fight; it was too closely matched.

I mess with a few loose strings on my jacket's sleeve as I wait for 521 to return, contemplating the pros and cons of getting up and searching for something else to drink. I dismiss the thought after a minute of watching the crowds; there is nothing other than alcohol to buy here.

"Hello..."

I look up at a young woman who stands over me, her hands clasped around a bag. She is tall and thin, making the clothing she wears seem far too large for her frame. Her hair is short, even more than 521's, and is halfway hidden by a black hat. The stranger has almond-colored skin which allows her green eyes to stand out. She smiles at me, but although I notice that there is a trace of concern hidden within it, she conceals it well.

"Hello," I whisper back to her, sitting forward to rest my elbows on my knees.

"May I sit with you?" She asks me gently, gesturing towards my side.

I lift my shoulders, pausing a moment to think of a suitable answer, but she doesn't wait. The woman takes a seat next to me, forcing me to scoot over slightly to avoid brushing against her. I tuck my arm closer to my chest, hiding the numbers on my wrist from her. I clear my throat gently, uncomfortably, and begin to bite on my thumbnail.