Street Fighter

Behind Bars

For the next three days that dreaded piece of paper stayed in my pocket and I did no more than glance at it from time to time. I couldn't bring myself to read what was on it, and have to acknowledge it as well.
Ash did not know about the single piece of paper which managed to fill my days with anguish. I walked the hallways between my classrooms with my head down avoiding eye contact with everybody, which was not part of my regular behaviour.
To be completely honest, for the first time in my life I felt completely in over my head and I was terrified of not being able to handle it on my own.
My regular morning and evening training session were completed in silence and much to the shock of my neighbour across the hall, Bec, I was in bed before curfew every night.
On one particular night I found myself tossing and turning around in my bed and unable to sleep, since it was a warm night I decided to escape for a while.
Opening my large window and pushing the curtain aside slightly it caught the breeze and gently flowed out behind me. Taking that as my cue I stepped through the window and with one foot on the sill I swung myself up and out of my room.
Finding handholds was relatively easy and within virtually no time at all I was sitting comfortably on top of the roof of the large house. It was just after midnight and the stars shone brightly above me.
This was my place of refuge, it calmed me when I needed a release and in those moments everything seemed right with the world. The first time I ever found myself up here was just after I had been admitted into the house.

I had just come from the Juvenile detention centre where I had been sent after my 'parents' had made an appeal to the judge saying I was extremely violent and uncontrollable.
Upon declaring the sentence passed I was dragged from the room and into the waiting arms of a couple of guards. Even in that momentary glance I got back at my family I could see there was no remorse in their eyes, not even a glimmer.
I was handcuffed and thrown, none to gently, into the back of a paddy wagon of sorts and the door slammed shut behind me. In the back along with me were two other rough looking characters.
They looked surprised to see a youngster of my age in with them, and a girl at that but once I had told them my story I managed to earn their respect and it was thanks to them that I survived my time in the detention centre.
I was by far the youngest in the holding cell of about twenty five even though it was only the juvenile facility. Most looked like seasoned criminals and many were soon to be transferred to finish their sentence in the maximum security centre for adults.
Within the first couple of days I had to show my mettle and thereby get my ranking in the pecking order. This would determine my food rations and protection from other inmates.
In this, I couldn't hide behind my 'bodyguards' I had to do this by myself. Most cells have their own way of determining rank, but in ours I would fight my way from the bottom up, when I lost I would stay there.

It happened one morning when I was least suspecting it. I had been sleeping peacefully until I was awoken by two pairs of hands reaching in, and dragging me off of the bed and dropping me onto the floor.
Being dropped from that height and landing on the cement floor winded me and I was not ready for my first attacker who managed to get in a few hits and kicks before I actually realised what was going on.
Rolling to the side I managed to scramble to my feet before my opponent could get another blow in. It was only then that I realised the fight for my ranking had started.
The ferocity of my first opponent was enough to know that they would be desperate to move up in ranking and weren't scared of getting hurt, or hurting in the process.
My stomach turned at the thought of the possible outcomes of this tournament of sorts. I knew I didn't have the strength to beat them, so I knew I would have to outsmart them and keep it quick.
With this in mind I kept my eyes open and looked for any openings I could find. The next punch came hard and fast and I wasn't able to avoid it as it connected with my shoulder.
The next couple of times I was able to stay far enough away and it was then that I noticed that right before she threw a punch her eye would twitch.
I watched and confirmed it in the her next attack and formulated how to end this fast. I wasn't entirely sure what they counted as beating her but there wasn't many other options.
A split second before the next punch came I managed to slip to the side and using her momentum against her, push the oncoming arm to the side across her body.
As her body followed the trajectory of her punch and her being unable to stop the movement I came in behind her and with a swift kick in the back of her knee her leg gave out and she collapsed onto the floor.
The whole time I was moving it felt as if it was all going in slow motion and it took me a couple of seconds to realise it had worked. Quickly straddling her I managed to hold both of us down by grabbing onto the bed directly next to me and hooking a foot around the bottom since I knew that my weight alone would not be enough.

Looking around the room at the crowd that had gathered and judging by the serious nodding of their heads I knew that I had won my first fight, I was relieved to know that I would not be at the bottom of this food chain.
Leaning down I put out my hand to help the other girl up but she pushed it away and sulked off to her corner, I did feel kind of bad for her. Who knows how long she had been stuck in here, at the bottom for.
I only survived my next four fights. After that I had to be helped limp away to a small mattress, if you could even call it that, to lay down before I passed out.
My next opponent had been a scrawny guy who looked not too much older than me and ducked and dodged like his life depended on it, not getting any hits in at all. I scored a lucky strike straight to his nose and he didn't want to fight anymore.
The next three got considerably harder though and I came out sustaining more injuries every time. I could see some people in the crowd rooting for me and that boosted my spirit.
I now lay on the mattress staring at the graffitied ceiling, my head is spinning, my ankle is more than likely sprained and my wrist is not much better.
The amount of blood on me and not inside of me is making my head spin, I think I might just take a nap now.

When I next woke up I had been cleaned up to some degree and my ankle was strapped. As I thought back to my fights and how I was now ranked in the top twenty made me feel excited.
I loved the adrenaline rush I got when I was fighting and it almost felt like second nature when I was doing it. Even despite all of my injuries I almost wanted to get back in there again, as stupid as that sounds to any sane person.
Then again in this cell, most people didn't even know the definition of being sane.
Twice a week we were allowed out of our cells and were free to play around outside for an hour. Although I wouldn't really call it freedom, there were strict guards constantly patrolling the area.
Any troublemakers or supposed troublemakers or even if the guards were just especially bored that day and randomly picked some people they would all get thrown in a holding cell for the rest of the day and potentially overnight too.
I have only had the misfortune of getting picked on once and let me tell you it was the worst night of my life. Being put in a tiny cell that stinks of waste and rotten goodness knows what, with rats running over you all night and the guards pounding on the doors intermittently throughout the night to make sure you are miserable.

I learnt a lot during my time in the detention centre, most stuff I thought I would never use again. Such as how to fight like a street fighter, with no particular technique and using whatever part of your body you felt like.
How to throw a knife, shave with a knife, and pick your nose with a knife. I had both my ears pierced by the cells ear piercer/ tattoo artist of sorts, and learnt how to effectively cheat in pretty much any  card game.
What can I say? They were rough folks, they knew how to cheat, steal and kill if they needed to. Good news is, I got out alive and generally in one piece. Eventually...
A guard came through one morning and pulled me out, gave me a second hand set of clothes and a worn out pair of shoes and told me to get dressed ready to meet the folks who were picking me up.
The Mackenzie's were paid by the government to take in kids like me who they thought they could remedy before I went crazy like the rest of my inmates.
And thats how I ended up here.

My first night though felt lonely and much too nice and quiet, which is an odd feeling to have. I missed the connection that I had formed with the brothers and sisters in the centre with me.
It was the closest thing I had to family, once they had decided not to kill me I found a small group who I hung out with. They taught me everything, and we looked out for each other.
Once you get to know them, there is so much more to their story. Not everybody in that place is a psycho or a murderer. In keeping with my promise to Mark and Brett, the two men I first met in the back of the paddy wagon, I had sent their mother a letter once I had been released.
They had asked me to let her know that they loved her and hoped they were getting out soon. I placed the small photo they had given me in there as well and then placed it in the big red post box.
As I tossed and turned that night I decided to climb onto the roof to the same spot I was sitting in now, from there I could see the stars and it was like I was tasting freedom. I was never going back there again.