❝ Sure the fight was fixed. I fixed it with a right hand. ❞
– George Foreman
“Hello, Delaney,” she whispers, winding her arms around my neck.
“It’s Lane.” I pull away, but I’m too weak. What’s she doing? Trying to strangle me? “Let go, Karen.”
She cackles, her head thrown back.
“You have all the wrong names, Delaney.”
“Let go, Karen, please!”
Her eyes burn a fiery red, as if she’s the devil herself.
“No.”
I’m squirming, pulling her arms off of me, but every time I get one off, another seems to appear. More, more, until she’s got be wrapped up in a rope of arms. One of my arms, though, is free.
“I love you! Why don’t you love me?”
“Karen, I love you, but-”
“Don’t call me Karen!”
“Let me go!”
I take my hand, and slam it into her satanic face. The arms release me, and her body disappears in a single poof.
I hear her whisper.
You’re no family of mine.
*********
I wake up breathing heavily, surrounded by a pool of sweat. My throat’s raw, and I think I have a fever.
And I’ve just had a terrible dream. There’s only one cure for me: boxing.
I have a bag in the basement, I throw on sports bra and head downstairs to throw a few punches. It may not be the best way to treat a cold, but it’ll make the time pass.
I begin with a few soft hits, slowly getting harder and harder.
Hello, Delaney.
Hit. Hit. Hit.
“It’s Lane.”
But Delaney is such a pretty name....
Hit. Hit.
“M-maybe I don’t want to be pretty. Maybe I want to be Lane.”
Hit.
Lane…
Hit. Hit.
“Yeah. Just…” Hit. “Lane.”
Lane…
Hit.
“Lane! Lane!” I feel arms on my shoulders, and before I can shriek, I spin around to see Dad. “Lane, what are you doing?”
“Practicing.”
“Did you dream about her again?”
“No.” He grabs my hands. They’re covered in blood- I’ve punched too hard without wrap or gloves.
Dad walks me to the bathroom, placing my hands under cold water.
“Lane, you’ve got to stop doing this. When you have a dream, just take a night pill and try to read a book or something. Sleep boxing isn’t going to get you anywhere.”
I nod.
“Sorry, Dad.” He wraps up my hands in gauze, and places a hand to my forehead.
“Jesus, Lane. You’re burning up. No school tomorrow.”
“But I have practice.”
He chuckles.
“Sorry, sweetheart. No school for sick kiddos. Back to bed, with you!” He gives me an aspirin, which I take back to my bedroom and take with a gulp from my water bottle.
I fall asleep again, and when I wake up, Dad’s already home from work.
I suppose I needed some rest.
AN: it's short. but meaningful. any guesses on who Karen is? and what happened? correct guesser/closest gets next chapter dedicated to them!
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Fight Like a Girl
Historia CortaLane has a list of everything she loves most hanging over her bed, and it goes a little like this: "1. My dad 2. Boxing 3. Feminism" If Lane wants to stick to what she loves, she may just have to fight, well, like a girl for it- because girls fight...
