Spitfire - Eric Coulter

Chapter V

The roof has been cleared out and my brother was cleaning up.

"Theresa."

"Oh my, oh my, my full name. What did I do?"

"What were you thinking?! Eric could have killed you."

"Almost did. These ten laps, holy guacamole."

"This isn't something to joke about!", my brother scolds.

"Sorry, my humour has kept my will to live alive the past years, I should probably dial it down a bit."

My brother grimaces.

"Listen, Eric is dangerous. You need to stay away from him."

"I don't plan on having a gun pressed against my temple again anytime soon. Now, teach me how to use one correctly."

I pick up one of the guns again, control the ammunition and take my stance and shoot, again hitting a little way away from the centre.

"You need to bend your knees a little and your hip needs to be aligned with your stance. Your arm up just a little bit more..."

I try to follow his instructions but fail miserably. About ten times.

"Come on, just, your hip, a little...my gosh, here", he says, grabs my hip and twists it into position.

"Now, arm up."

He moves behind me and supports my arm.

"Now shoot."

And I hit the centre. I squeal, turn around and hug Tobias, who gives me a little spin.

"See, not that hard. Also, you smell."

"Initiate!"

My brother drops me to the ground and we turn around, even though we know exactly who is standing there.

"Thanks for the help. Sorry for the...overly joyful bullseye. Won't happen again", I say, loud enough for Eric to hear.

"Yeah, just...go get something to eat. Training will continue soon."

I brush past Eric and return to the big hall in which most of the younger members of the faction sit and eat. Marlene yells my name and all heads turn towards me while I make my way over to them.

"You, my darling, have a death wish", Sammy says as I sit down.

"What?"

"Word travels fast here. Challenging Eric? Come on girl...", Lynn explains and looks me up and down.

"You look like shit."

"Yeah, ten laps around the compound do that to a newbie."

Collective laughter.

I pile salad and rice onto my plate and some of the chicken in a yellowish sauce which, Marlene explains, is Curry.

It tastes amazing. I talk about shooting practice and my ability to hit the centre, while they smile since most of them were able to do that already.

"Well, I am gonna take a quick shower, 'cause I smell, so...see you at dinner."

I take a five-minute shower and try my best to keep my hair dry, but fail, then put on a fresh T-Shirt and braid my brown hair into two side braids.

I enter the training room just in time, my legs threatening to give out with every step I take.

Heavy orange punching bags line the two walls left and right of me, mats laid together to form squares on the ground in between. There is a running track around the room and human-shaped targets make up the wall in front, the wall behind me is filled with other sports equipment.