The city welcomed the night with grace. It was the slow flickering on of bulbs and lights at first and then the horizon descended, a variation of dark hues taking its place. The stars yawned and twinkled, getting up from their quite literal day dream. The sound of gasps and grunts however was what disrupted the peaceful rhythm of the sequence of everything.
The weather however boded no difference to Lysandra whose pair of dark eyes flitted back and forth the two men in the ring, her palms fisted and her lips set into a firm line. She did not let her focus waver as she calculated the next moves of both the fighters, planning a formula of her own in her head.
Just as she had expected, the man in red vest swung his fist from the bottom, ramming it into the chin of his shirtless opponent. He fell onto the ground with a thud and the victor raised both of his hands up in the air, shouting along with the others.
"And the hero wins yet again!" announced the commentator, his voice booming through the microphone amidst the cheering and howling of the spectators. "That's right, cheer for Skeletor!"
"Who's next?" challenged he, curling his index with his hand moving and pointing towards the crowd in a circular motion.
Lysandra, who had been observing the whole thing from the very beginning, stepped up and pulled the hood of her jumper down. The crowd gasped looking at her while the man, Skeletor, chuckled roaming his eyes up her body, sizing her up. Putting his expectations to shame, she held his haze with nothing but confidence shining through her hazel orbs.
"Where you get your gall from, I wonder. Do you really believe that you can fight me?" he tried, but failed miserably, to scare her off.
She simply nodded and signalled for the commentator who then finalised the bets. As soon as his whistle was blown, she got into her form, defending every strike of her opponent with a stronger one of hers. He stepped back, panting while she stood unfazed, circling him.
Being the stalwart that he was, Skeletor grunted and bulldozed his way towards her, punching her face with his fist slamming right into her cheek and then knocked her down with his head lodged into her middle. The crowd cheered as he confided that she would never get up but, she threw water onto the fire they had lit up by getting to her feet within no time and yanking the bulky man down, with her hand clamped on his ankle. Taken by utter surprise, he fell down on the ground, reaching out with his hands to reduce the impact of his fall.
Lysandra smirked down at him, dusting her hands and challenged him to get up. Skeletor growled and charged towards her while she simply dodged him by stepping aside. She was riling him up, making him see red and lose all of his control, his concentration shifting away from his determination to win the match. Clever moves and almost lethal tricks were the reason why she was still in the ring, almost on the verge of snatching the victory.
It took a couple more minutes of her relentless defence, tactical mind games and gasps from the people for her to confirm that Skeletor was finally exhausted. She took this as a chance to pack a powerful punch right at his face and he stumbled back holding onto his nose, shooting daggers at her.
It was clear that after a really long time, as it seemed, the almighty Skeletor was losing against a frail teenager who used her intellect against his strength. One last blow against his stomach was all it took for her to win, amassing yet another win into her brilliant track record of street fighting.
"And today is the day for a revolution!" the commentator hollered handing her a wad of cash. "Skeletor is defeated!"
Inquiring about her name in an embarrassed whisper, he smiled down at her before turning back to the road and declaring, "Calypso is our new hero!"
Once again, the tranquil twilight was smothered with the howls and whistles of the mundane folks. She shook her head, scowling at how quick they were to change sides, to give up on their beloved hero, Skeletor. A teenager whooping his ass once, was all it took for them to push him aside and lift her to the throne.
Making her way out of the misty street, she sauntered onto the main street, pulling her hood up and tucking her hands into the pockets of her jeans. Her feet lead her to a modest but, wealthy-looking house not to far away from the centre of the city.
The keys jingled in her palm as she pushed the door open and closed it behind her back. Once she was in, she bent down and untied the lace of her Doc Martens to hold them up and walk to her room without waking the other occupants.
But, before she could even pass the foyer, a voice stopped her journey and she turned back, cursing at the wrong timing.
"Where were you?"
"Somewhere," she said, "doing my own thing."
"I'm afraid that is not the answer I would like to hear, Lysandra," the woman who seemed to be in her thirties quipped, her brown eyes sparkling with disappointment.
When Lysandra did not answer, the lady stepped forward, grabbing her chin and lifting her face up. She gasped at the wounds colouring her cheekbones and at her busted lips which were lightly bleeding.
"It's barely been two days since we moved here. How do you even find these fighting rinks?"
Lysandra still said nothing but flicked her eyes downwards onto the ground, her hands entwined with each other. The woman sighed and lightly dragged the girl into the kitchen, pushing her onto the stool of the breakfast bar.
"Jay, trust me, this is not necessary. They'll heal soon enough," the teenager spoke up, earning a glare and a motherly smack on her head from the older woman.
That shut her up and she sat still as cotton swabs were dabbed onto her wounds, cleaning her skin. Satisfied after placing a bandaid on her forehead and having one last look at her lips which looked a little better without the blood, Jade held out an ice pack for her to take. Lysandra spared her a grateful glance and grabbed it, rounding the counter to get out of the kitchen towards the stairs. But, before she could actually go up to her room, Jade padded out of the kitchen, calling for her.
"William and I have been worried about you, darling."
"Don't be! I am perfectly alright," she promised. "Well, I'll be off. Goodnight!"
The woman sighed, knowing that Lysandra was never the one to live under a certain set of rules. She made her own principles and did whatever her heart asked her to.
"Take care of yourself, child," Jade said and offered her a small smile. "William wanted me to let you know that you start school tomorrow."
She nodded, ascending up the stairs to her room. Opening the door with a danger sign pasted onto it, she stepped through the mess that she had made on the floor along with the unopened cardboard boxes lying beside the study desk. Papers and pencils rolled around as she switched the fan on. She paid them no heed as she fell atop the duvet and let sleep consume her.
It was the roar of Lysandra's motorbike moving rapidly on the asphalt street, leaving a whoosh of wind in its wake that grabbed the attention of the teenagers going into the campus. As she pulled into the parking lot, students stared at her without even blinking, as if afraid that they'd miss something important. Her eyes stared up at the fluttering flag adorned with the autumn leaf standing on a pedestal, just outside the entrance.
Paying no attention to the boys staring at her as if she was cut straight from a movie and to the girls who conveyed mixed emotions towards her, she moved with a baleful sort of confidence lacing her features. Slinging the bag across her back and adjusting the strap properly, she got down from the bike freeing her wild hair from the shackles of the helmet.
Running her fingers through the dark auburn locks that barely reached her shoulders, she made her way straight to the office.
"Here you go! This is your schedule, Miss Verlice. Welcome to Mantisdor High," said the woman at the main office table, sparing her a friendly glance.
"Thank you."
"Make sure to collect your books by the end of the day," another voice chimed in and Lysandra looked to her right to see another woman in the room, looking at her attire and her face with judgement shining clear in her obsidian eyes.
"Right," she said. "Thanks again, Miss."
She briefly skimmed her eyes over the schedule and then the school map given to her, looking around for her locker. Sighing when she finally reached it, she pulled it open and dumped her extra notebooks into it before skipping down the hallway to her first class.
To her utter relief, she was not asked to make introductions or to familiarise herself with her classmates. Psychology class was quite interesting and she successfully managed to pull herself through Advanced Calculus and Physical sciences, in both of which, she vexed absolutely no interest in.
"Hello, I'm Jessamine," said a petite girl, holding her hand out. Lysandra was in the lunch room, munching on her pasta with her head facing her lap. One of her hands was immersed into seriously scribbling away in the hardback notebook sitting on her ripped jean clad legs.
"Lysandra," she said simply, turning back to her to food. She didn't want to make friends and that was the end of it. Jessamine gasped looking at her face, and noticing the bruises that littered her skin.
"So, you're new to town?" she tried again.
Lysandra simply nodded not even lifting her head up to look at the brown haired girl. Jessamine, as she introduced herself as, huffed and scampered away leaving her alone.
Murmurs arose and people began pointing towards her, actually noticing the cuts, her busted lips and all of the eerie things about her appearance and behaviour. Lysandra simply couldn't care less about what people thought of her. It didn't matter. The clusterfuck occurrences she had to go through in every school that she went to made no difference with her having gotten habituated to it all.
Evening had come by faster than she has expected and her sore limbs begged for some release. The engine of the bike came to life as she inserted the key and turned the ignition button on. She made her way home, against the wind with her hair left open to kiss the fingertips of the warm breeze dancing in the air.
In search of freedom, she was.
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P L E A S E V O T E